“Ivel will be pleased to hear that.”
Brushing back his black hair, Victor dismounted his horse.
The safe house had been built with security in mind, its walls thick and soundproof. There was no way of knowing what Ivel was doing inside.
It hasn't been that long since I last saw her, yet it feels as though much more time has passed.
Standing at the front door, he reached for the handle—then paused.
A faint melody of a violin drifted from within.
Since when did she know how to play the violin?
It was unexpected.
Yet the violin’s melancholy notes and delicate vibrations suited her surprisingly well.
“Oh my! Your Grace, we've been waiting for you!”
“Grandma Vanya.”
“And Conrad, it's been a while.”
Grandma Vanya and Colonel Conrad naturally knew each other. Conrad happened to be the son of one of her distant relatives.
Having grown up frequently visiting family, Conrad treated Vanya almost like his own mother.
She had helped raise him, after all.
“Come now, gentlemen. Listen to the young lady's performance properly. And don't forget to applaud. I've never seen anyone who isn't a professional musician play the violin so beautifully.”
Tightening the strings of her apron, Vanya hummed cheerfully and headed toward the kitchen.
With dinner still some time away, Victor and Conrad made their way to the drawing room.
Partly because they were genuinely curious about Ivel's performance.
“She truly is talented in many things.”
Before peeking through the half-open door, Conrad turned to Victor with a grin.
Lowering his voice, Victor replied,
“Why don't you accompany her with a reed whistle? She'd probably like that.”
“Hah! How could I dare add a whistle to such magnificent playing?”
“She'd be delighted, actually.”
The Ivel Victor knew was not someone who openly displayed her emotions.
But if one watched her long enough, carefully enough, they became visible.
The slight tremble at the corner of her eyes when she was happy.
The subtle twist of her lips when she was displeased.
She was a far more transparent person than she realized, and Victor found that strangely comforting.
Others never noticed her innocence beneath her reserved exterior.
Perhaps this was what it felt like to earn a small piece of a proud cat's trust.
Silently, he remained at the doorway.
He didn't want to interrupt.
The golden glow of sunset bathed her round face.
As her fingers moved faster across the strings, her long hair swayed with the motion.
Unfortunately, they had arrived near the end of the performance.
When she finally lowered the violin, Victor stepped forward, applauding.
“Chopin's Nocturne No. 2. A wonderful performance.”
“Your Grace.”
“Allow me to introduce someone. This is Colonel Conrad von Eberstein.”
Ivel's shoulders trembled.
Only slightly.
So slightly that anyone less observant would have missed it.
Then she rose and approached them with careful steps.
“...It's a pleasure... to meet you. My name is Ivel.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
Straightening from her greeting, Ivel studied Conrad quietly.
Just before he could question her gaze, she smoothly looked away.
“Grandma Vanya said dinner will take a while. If you don't mind, would you allow me to play another piece? My skills are still lacking, but...”
“Lacking? Not at all. I doubt there's another young lady your age who isn't a professional violinist and can play at your level.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
People often said that one's true nature revealed itself through music.
The melody carried the performer's soul.
Conrad, born a nobleman and educated in the arts, had listened to countless performances throughout his life.
His ear was well trained.
And so, when the elegant young lady lifted her bow once more, he found himself captivated by her wit and thoughtfulness.
No—
Enchanted would be a more accurate word.
“Schubert's Military March! My wife and I absolutely adore this piece.”
He lowered his voice as much as possible, not wanting to disturb the performance.
Even so, his shoulders were already bouncing with excitement.
The lively composition was often played at festivals.
Many soldiers taught it to their children as their very first piece.
Moreover, performing Military March in front of a soldier was considered one of the highest expressions of respect.
“She must be delighted to meet you, Colonel.”
“Yes, I can feel it. She played this because I'm a soldier, didn't she?”
Laughing heartily, Conrad gazed at the woman who would soon become his adopted daughter with undisguised affection.
Even now, he continued addressing her formally.
After all, regardless of her status as his future daughter, she would also become the Grand Duchess.
I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been worried. But I trusted His Grace's judgment. My wife recovered from her melancholy the moment she heard she'd be gaining a daughter.
But this young lady...
She's far beyond anything I expected.
How is she so perfectly composed? That posture is straighter than some soldiers I've commanded.
Ironically, Conrad had stumbled remarkably close to the truth.
But since the thought remained entirely inside his head, there was nobody around to answer him.
After enjoying the brief performance, he sat down for dinner with a contented smile.
Thank goodness. Everything went according to plan.
The atmosphere throughout dinner remained warm and cheerful.
While gracefully maintaining the flow of conversation, Ivel found herself quietly observing the living, breathing Conrad.
A wave of nostalgia washed over her.
Military March was always your favorite.
You used to play it for me on your whistle all the time.
That was why she had spent an entire month preparing it.
She had wanted to offer that piece the moment he arrived.
She wasn't good at saying sentimental things.
Expressing her feelings through music was the best she could manage.
I think he understood.
The corners of Conrad's wrinkled eyes never stopped crinkling with delight.
His face glowed with happiness.
Eventually, after the colonel drank himself into a cheerful stupor, it fell to Victor to escort him to bed.
Later that night, Victor stepped into the garden, where Ivel stood cooling herself in the evening air.
“Are you prepared?”
“More than enough.”
“Then again, there doesn't seem to be much you can't do.”
“True enough. I pretended to be a man and went to war, didn't I?”
Taking care of one troublesome boy would hardly be a challenge.
And if it truly became impossible...
Well.
She could always ask the Grand Duke for help.
The Victor she knew would listen seriously and offer a solution.
She trusted him that much.
After all, she was about to become his wife.
What was there to fear?
Yes, her life was about to change completely.
But she wasn't giving up her dream of practicing medicine.
Nor was she marrying some aging old man with a sagging belly.
And she certainly wasn't going to lose financial security.
So, as far as Ivel was concerned, everything was acceptable.
“Speaking of earlier,” Victor said.
“The answer you gave regarding your favorite color and flowers.”
“Ah. Yes.”
“Were they all truthful?”
Even in the darkness, his blue eyes stood out vividly.
Perhaps it was because there was a strength in them unlike anything ordinary.
Lost in the thought, she nodded.
“I like dark navy blue the most. And orange jasmine.”
“Did you grow orange jasmine at home?”
“There was a tree.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“I loved it dearly. Then one day it withered and died.”
Her expression remained utterly calm.
Emotionless.
Watching her profile, Victor carefully asked,
“Did someone kill it deliberately?”
“My brother Abel.”
“I see.”
The conversation ended there.
After exchanging a few more words, they parted for the night.
At least, Ivel did.
Victor, however, still had agents he could summon even in the dead of night.
And whatever orders he gave them...
She would likely learn the answer within two days.
The carriage journey to Bavaria was far less awkward than Ivel had feared.
Colonel Conrad, Grandma Vanya, and Matthias the aide would travel separately.
That left only Victor and Ivel inside the spacious carriage.
Fortunately, it was luxurious enough that the ride remained comfortable.
For the most part, they sat in silence.
But whenever conversation arose, it almost always centered around their shared memories of the war.
The differences between her perspective and his made for surprisingly engaging discussions.
“In the end, that war will happen, won't it?”
“No.”
Victor's answer came immediately.
“I intend to stop it.”
“Can you really prevent the King of France from insulting our king?”
