Chapter 62
Empty and Powerless
When asked what on earth he meant by “myth,” Damion replied:
“I wanted to see if it could be exchanged.”
Exchanged? Love?
Henet kindly informed him that love was not something that could be bought with money. Not that Damion ever listened.
But today, it seemed like his friend no longer needed that lesson. He finally understood.
After placing the last document atop the pile, Damion stood up with a bright smile.
“I’ve decided to devote myself more to family than business now.”
“You’ve always been devoted.”
“This time, I mean it.”
“Truly?”
Damion nodded. The cheerful grin on his face made him look almost like a shy boy in love.
Henet opened his mouth. It was great that Damion had found love, but… to fall this deeply? At this rate, Hopri might be right—he’d soon be a man completely tied down by his wife, never leaving the house.
“I should head to the club.”
…Or not?
Henet crossed his arms and asked, “You haven’t been going for a while. What’s the occasion?”
“Hopri’s been nagging, wondering why I never show up.”
“Isn’t your wife waiting for you at home?”
“Ansi said she had plans too.”
“…So you’re saying you’ll spend the time without her at the club?”
“Want to come with me or not?”
Damion grinned mischievously. Henet, who had been about to scold him, ended up chuckling and shaking his head.
“Henet, you asked me something last time.”
“What?”
Damion’s lips curved into a smooth arc, his voice cool and composed.
“You asked if this marriage was really a plus for me.”
“Right.”
“It is. No doubt about it.”
He sounded confident—completely certain now. Henet raised his brows and asked:
“What about your wife? Is it a plus for her too?”
“Not yet. But I’ll make sure it is. No matter what.”
His answer carried unexpected determination. The conviction in his voice reassured Henet.
They left the office together.
Even under the blazing summer sun, Damion walked without a hint of discomfort. It almost seemed like the sunlight was avoiding him.
Or perhaps it was the gentle smile of happiness that made it feel as though he had blended into the sunlight itself.
Henet sincerely wished that the light surrounding his friend would stay with him for a long, long time.
“Have fun, Mom. Say hi to Madam Märchen for me!”
The station platform buzzed with heat and noise from the recently arrived train. Amid the crowd, Ansi raised her voice.
Sophia smiled wryly and nodded.
“If only you were coming too. I feel bad thinking about seeing beautiful places and eating delicious food without you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be resting just fine in the North.”
“Going to the in-laws isn’t a vacation—it’s work.”
“But Damion came all this way just to see you. Did he look like he was working?”
Sophia hesitated, then burst into laughter.
“Okay. I’ll think of it as a vacation too.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself and remember your medicine.”
“I will. I’ll bring you a souvenir from Brigada, so you have to bring one from Chelsa too, okay?”
“Okay.”
Ansi nodded. But deep down, she knew—she wouldn’t be receiving a souvenir from Brigada, nor would she be giving one from Chelsa.
Using summer as a convenient excuse, she had sent Sophia on a brief trip abroad, to Brigada. Madam Märchen, who had once been close with Sophia during the time they lived in hiding, accompanied her.
Ansi had sent a telegram to Madam Märchen with a request: after the week-long trip, take Sophia to the South.
A new home had been prepared for her there—where she could spend the rest of her life in peace.
Ansi had arranged enough money to ensure Sophia would never have to work again. She had even pre-ordered several months’ worth of medication from the pharmacy. With the treatments Sophia had been receiving in the capital, her condition had improved significantly. Her medication was now taken far less frequently.
It would be okay.
Even without Ansi, Sophia would live on just fine.
“Train to West Port departs in three minutes!”
The conductor shouted as he walked along the train, prompting people to board quickly.
It was time to say goodbye.
“Travel safely.”
“Mm. Let’s see each other when I get back.”
Sophia turned to board the train, her steps light and excited. Ansi watched her, wondering what kind of expression she was wearing.
“Mom!”
Ansi called out before she realized it. Sophia turned around, puzzled.
Ansi ran up and threw herself into her mother’s arms.
“Oh?”
Sophia’s eyes widened in surprise at her daughter’s uncharacteristic behavior. She set down her bag and stroked Ansi’s head.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“I just… won’t see you for a while.”
“You never did this even when you were little.”
Despite her words, Sophia chuckled and hugged her daughter tightly.
In her mother’s arms, Ansi closed her eyes and carved the moment into her heart.
The warmth that might be the last she ever felt didn’t mingle with the summer heat—it was distinct and real. Her mother’s love wrapped around her completely.
And that was enough.
She would remember this until the end of her life.
“Go now. And take care of yourself.”
Ansi stepped back and smiled faintly. Tears threatened to fall, but she held them back.
Thankfully, the train was just about to depart. Reluctantly, Sophia boarded. She waved from the window, and Ansi waved back with both hands.
“Be well, Mom.”
Ansi’s farewell was drowned out by the sharp, loud whistle of the departing train.
Just like in the dream where she watched Damion die.
Empty.
And powerless.
“Last year, you scoffed at the idea of attending the hunting event. What’s changed?”
Duke Orphe, Bashirof, lounged on the sofa flipping through a newspaper, raising an eyebrow.
Across from him, Marianne fanned herself with a satisfied smile.
“Maybe he’s finally grown up.”
“Hmm.”
Bashirof rubbed his chin, clearly pleased.
The annual bird hunt held in the vast forests behind Sobelvio had a long-standing tradition.
It served as a declaration that the future of the empire would still be led by Orphe—by gathering high-ranking nobles on their land.
They even invited journalists, providing lodging, so that the grandeur of Sobelvio could be reported across the empire and the results of the hunt used to elevate Orphe’s prestige.
“At any rate, Damion will be a great asset this time. Five years as a soldier should’ve made him a fine shot.”
“Ansi is doing well. I’m sure she persuaded him to attend this time.”
“That worries me a little. He even handed over company shares for her. A man shouldn’t be so whipped.”
“….”
Bashirof, having spoken without filter, suddenly sensed the chill and looked up.
Marianne was staring at him quietly.
“He’s your son. Must take after you.”
A man consumed by a woman. Her words had weight.
Bashirof fell silent, pretending not to hear, and turned a page. The rustling paper filled the room.
Marianne sipped her cool chamomile tea and spoke again.
“At least he didn’t fall for a lowly maid like you did. He staggered a bit, but he brought home a refined and well-bred young lady.”
“I didn’t fall for—! Marianne, I’ve told you, that was just a brief mistake—”
“Then Damion will be better than you. He won’t suddenly bring home a child from a fleeting affair after eight years.”
“That was—! His mother took her own life! I had no choice! You said you understood!”
“Then why go to the South and cause such a mess? You should’ve just let Damion stay with her.”
“What was I supposed to do when the boy was clearly mine? If Rizelle hadn’t died, maybe—but she’s already—”
“I told you not to say her name in front of me.”
“Ah… Did I say it just now?”
Seeing the frost in her eyes, Bashirof wilted.
Both Damion and Marianne hated hearing Rizelle’s name spoken aloud. But then—who would remember the poor woman?
He sighed internally, but now wasn’t the time. Marianne’s icy gaze bore into him, and he raised his newspaper higher. Yet the words blurred before him.
His throat felt dry, so he reached for his glass.
Through it, Marianne was still staring.
Splutter—!
Bashirof choked and coughed. Marianne sighed and calmly took another sip of tea.
Both of them thought the same thing:
They say chamomile tea soothes the nerves, but clearly, that’s a lie.
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. The butler entered.
“Young Master Damion and his wife have departed from Chelsa Station. They’ll be arriving shortly.”
“Hmph. Then I’d better change before they get here.”
Bashirof stood up as if he had been waiting for this moment. Marianne closed her fan with a snap and followed suit.
