Episode 26

Clara Edwell went through countless maids before meeting Sonnet Posa.

As few desired to tend to an ill noblewoman, the maids were replaced with alarming frequency.

It was similar to the amount of times her physicians had changed with every collapse.

'From now on, I shall be serving Madam….'

Clara turned away, not bothering to listen.

The person would leave in a few days anyhow.

No one was willing to withstand Clara's sensitivity as she reacted to every small touch and sound.

Even her husband only occasionally glanced into Clara's bedroom.

'This time will be the same.'

Forming attachments, giving and receiving affection, having normal conversation.

She had long abandoned such pursuits.

'She'll be gone soon.'

Clara dismissed it cynically.

However, the new maid remained by her side.

Even after witnessing Clara breaking dishes and tearing at her hair.

Until the season changed once more.

The maid quietly tended to the Countess from dawn till dusk.

'Are you not going to quit?'

'If there is something you are dissatisfied with, please let me know. I will fix it.'

'No, that's not it... I am not an easy person to serve.'

'Work is never easy.'

The maid's eyes were puzzled, as if Clara was explaining how the sun disappeared at night.

'Aren't you bothered that you have to take care of a sick person? You could move to a more comfortable place.'

'I was hired to serve you, Madam. Please don’t speak of such things.'

Clear eyes.

Straight lilac hair.

Strong, sturdy hands.

'I will not quit on my own.'

For the first time, Clara directly faced the person who had remained by her side for months.

Her resolute eyes were as clear as the sea of Clara’s hometown.

'What is your name?'

'Sonnet Posa.'

The conversation didn’t progress further.

Even if she was dying, as a noblewoman, forming close bonds with a mere servant was taboo.

Even if she was bedridden all day.

Even if no one else cared for her...

'Madam, would you like something to eat?'

'Take it away, I can’t swallow anything…!'

Her weakly flailing arm froze abruptly.

The slightly burnt caramel surface and the cool glass touch. White strawberries.

Clara's favorite dessert from her childhood.

'The texture is soft, so it should be easy to swallow.'

Clara blinked slowly as she received the glass and silver spoon.

Sonnet was right.

The dessert from her childhood went down effortlessly.

The burning pain in her esophagus dulled as if it were a lie.

'Ah…'

'If you’d like, I can prepare it again next time.'

What did she reply then?

Clara couldn’t remember precisely.

She just resolved.

'I will say thank you tomorrow.'

But Clara's determination could not be fulfilled.

She became too ill to even open her mouth from that day onwards.

'I really am dying.'

Her husband, who rarely visited, stayed by her bedside every day.

It was a clearer judgment than any diagnosis.

Clara caught sight of the lilac hair standing quietly behind her husband.

She couldn't discern her expression well, but...

Until the very end, Sonnet Posa was there.

“Madam?”

Her silver eyelashes fluttered slowly once more.

The blue eyes she faced were filled with pure concern.

'I can trust Sonnet.'

To be precise, she could only trust Sonnet.

The child had kept faith even beside a dying woman who possessed no power.

'At least with her...'

The young Sonnet asked in a softer tone than during their first encounter.

“Is something the matter?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t look well.”

“Ah.”

A soft palm gently pressed Clara’s cheek.

'Was I that obvious?'

Sonnet’s rough palm lightly covered Clara’s hand.

“What’s the matter?”

“Well…”

Sonnet was reliable.

After a brief hesitation, Clara began to speak.

“Actually, I heard the count and Lady Evangeline had breakfast together.”

“...”

“Of course, that’s possible. As the head of the family, he has to maintain connections with other nobles. However, I…”

The more she spoke, the more embarrassed she felt.

The reason for her embarrassment was clear.

'It makes me sound like I’m jealous of Lady Evangeline!'

Jealousy in an arranged marriage.

'I heard there were cases when the husband takes in a mistress.'

It wasn’t a love marriage.

Caring about such a thing felt very immature.

As she was considering whether to dismiss it, a cheerful voice rang out.

“Well, it would’ve been better if he at least let Madam know he was arriving.”

“Well, he’s busy—”

“No matter how busy he is, how could he come to see Madam at dawn and leave without saying anything? Not even a simple greeting.”

“...Huh?”

Madam?

Me?

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“At dawn, the Count came straight to your bedroom from the carriage. He must have missed you very much.”

“How do you know, why would he...”

‘Lady Evangeline’ was quickly pushed to the back of her mind.

The new information overwhelmed Clara’s mind.

“Sonnet, how do you know that?”

“Well, I am your personal maid.”

“Huh?”

“I went to check on you because you were tossing and turning from a nightmare—and the Count was already there!”

“...”

“So I stepped back. The atmosphere was such that I couldn’t interrupt.”

“So, the Count came to see me...?”

“Yes!”

“Why...?”

“Why else? He must have felt he’d die if he didn’t see you, even though you were sleeping."

Her words were spoken naturally, with a hint of a smile.

Sonnet whispered while still holding Clara’s hand.

“Isn’t that what love is? You miss them no matter how much you are with them, and you feel like you’ll die if you don’t see them.”

“Ah…”

“I told you before. The Count—”

"Yes."

“...loves me.”

How could she be so sure?

Clara looked at her most trustworthy person in the world.

“Then why... did he just leave after looking?”

“Well, he might have felt too shy to wake a sleeping person just to look.”

“...”

“The Count also left behind flowers.”

“Flowers?”

The maid's gaze peered over Clara’s shoulder.

Clara followed her gaze to witness fresh white summer flowers in full bloom.

Her pink eyes widened like two full moons.

“I-I never left flowers there?”

“Those are the ones the Count replaced.”

“Replaced? But I never placed any flowers there.”

“Well, of course, I did that!”

“...Huh?”

Before Clara could fully understand, Sonnet explained quickly.

"Madam, you cherished the flower the Count picked for you very much.”

“Cherished? I, well, I did treasure it…”

It was the first flower she received after getting married.

“I thought even a plucked flower should at least see some sunlight, so I moved it over the table.”

“When?”

“...Was it four days ago?”

“Really? I didn't notice...”

“Then, the Count happened to see it and replaced it with a new batch!”

“...”

"He must be quite shy."

“Is that... so?”

Now that she thought about it, it did seem to be the case.

A woman whose body age and true age did not match gazed at the white summer flowers.

'He left without saying a word...'

She still didn’t understand her husband’s feelings.

Before or now, Clara always found the Count difficult.

'He doesn’t seem to like me... nor dislike me.'

The white petals tickled her heart.

“Where is the Count now?”

“At this time, he’s probably in the study.”

“Let’s go. Since he’s returned from a long journey, I should greet him as his wife.”

“Yes!”

Sonnet’s cheerful voice eased her slight tension.

Clara Edwell headed to the study without delay.

Coincidentally, she ran into a ‘guest’ on the way.

“Did you have a good night?"

“Good morning, Madam.”

Lady Evangeline spoke elegantly, a smile plastered on her face.

“The food here is excellent, no matter what is presented."

“I’m glad it suits your taste.”

“Yes. Especially the salad the count recommended. It was delicious.”

“...”

“Ah, I had breakfast with the Count this morning.”

Her intention was obvious.

The woman continued to speak gently.

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