Chloe collapsed right where she was and began reading the letters.
Right now, her dignity as a marchioness didn’t matter.
“…What is this…”
And soon—
She couldn’t stop crying.
She had already known that Gerard once loved Leila.
She had read about his desperate love countless times in the “book” she saw in her dreams.
She had even witnessed it herself.
But reading the letters—
written in his own hand,
carefully filled with his emotions—
was something else entirely.
[Forget what others say, Leila. You shine the brightest when you hold a sword. Surely my words matter more than theirs, right?]
[Are you sure Frederick Anata is a good man? I know we shouldn’t judge by rumors… but I’m worried.]
[Congratulations, Leila! Your diplomatic response was perfect. No wonder Her Majesty praised you. I’m so proud of you!
There was no “I love you” written anywhere.
But everything else was there.
Affection.
Care.
Jealousy.
Every line overflowed with love.
As Chloe read the letters—
filled with the fresh scent of young love—
Tears streamed down her face.
It was miserable.
Standing here,
digging through someone else’s letters—
and comparing herself
to the one who received such love.
“…I really hate this…”
Why am I seeing this?
Why am I reading this?
Why are you making me feel so miserable?
“…I hate it.”
Wiping her blurred vision again and again,
She kept reading.
But soon—
Her eyes couldn’t focus.
“Haah…”
She forced herself to breathe steadily.
Everything was a mess.
Her friend is sleeping behind her.
Her tears that wouldn’t stop.
Her mind was dizzy from alcohol.
Still—
She found it.
The letter.
It stood out immediately.
Short.
Rough.
Almost scribbled in irritation.
Knock knock.
Someone knocked.
Chloe flinched.
She hurriedly shut the box
and put it back.
In her rush,
she hit her finger—
but didn’t even feel the pain.
Knock knock knock!
“C-come in.”
The door opened.
It was Frederick.
“You didn’t come out, no matter how long I waited.”
He glanced at his wife.
asleep on the sofa—
and Chloe, standing awkwardly nearby.
The atmosphere felt… strange.
“My wife is completely drunk, yet you seem fine, Marchioness.”
“…Ah, I just woke up.”
Chloe avoided his gaze.
“Hm. Seems you’ve talked enough.”
He looked at the empty bottles.
(Though most were Leila’s.)
Frederick gently shook Leila.
“Leila, let’s go to bed.”
“Mmm… Derek?”
“Yes, it’s me. You can’t even handle alcohol—why drink so much?”
“Hehe… Derek… carry me.”
Frederick smiled faintly—
and lifted her up.
“You should rest as well, Marchioness.”
“…Yes.”
Chloe followed them out.
The palace at night felt quiet—
almost eerie.
They walked in silence.
At a fork—
They stopped.
Their rooms were in different directions.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
As Chloe turned—
Frederick suddenly spoke.
“Marchioness.”
“Yes?”
“…Have you been crying?”
She froze.
“…Ah—yawning! I must have yawned.”
A weak excuse.
Frederick could tell she was lying.
But—
He didn’t press further.
“I see.”
He turned away.
Chloe exhaled in relief.
“…Thank goodness.”
She touched her pocket—
feeling the crumpled letter she had hidden.
Her steps quickened.
Soon—
She was running.
She reached her room.
The knight at the door looked startled.
But she didn’t care.
She quietly entered.
Abel was asleep.
She walked to the dim lamp—
and collapsed again.
With trembling hands,
She unfolded the letter.
[To Leila Anata,
I understand your wishes. If that is truly what you want…
From your longtime friend, Gerard.]
A tear fell.
It smudged the ink.
And with it—
Her last hope disappeared.
The next day,
Both women fell ill.
Leila’s stomach hurt.
Chloe’s heart hurt.
The picnic was postponed.
The children were disappointed—
but endured it.
Still—
A child’s patience doesn’t last long.
“Mom… when will you wake up?”
Chloe slowly opened her eyes.
Her swollen eyes stung in the afternoon light.
“Mom… Mom…”
Abel had spent the morning
reading and training.
But as time passed—
He grew anxious.
Even though everyone was kind—
This place was unfamiliar.
After lunch,
he stayed by her side—
touching her face and hand,
trying to wake her.
“Young master, shall we go eat snacks?”
Jane tried to coax him.
“No! I’ll stay with Mom!”
His trembling voice—
finally woke her.
“…My son.”
“Mom! Are you okay? Are you sick?”
He looked like he might cry.
“I think… I’ll feel better if you hug me.”
She opened her arms.
He rushed into them.
“Don’t be sick, Mom…”
His blue eyes were teary.
She held him tightly.
She gave Jane a grateful glance.
“Would you like something to eat, ma’am?”
“…Yes.”
Jane left.
“Were you worried?”
He nodded.
She kissed his forehead.
“I’m sorry. And about the picnic too.”
“…Yeah…”
“I promise we’ll go tomorrow.”
“Okay… You can’t get sick. I promised Dad I’d protect you.”
That word—
Dad—
hurt.
But still—
She smiled faintly.
“…Mom too…”
Her voice broke.
“…would do anything to protect you.”
Because of you… I don’t regret it.
Even if I go back—
I would choose him again… just to have you.
Abel tried to look at her—
But she held him tighter.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
His small voice—
was enough
to make her strong again.
