Chapter 38

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 38

Chapter Title: The Viscountess's Passing

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"Did you... see something?"

Viscount Arlen's words nailed down his conviction.

Aden's eyes narrowed in displeasure.

His aversion to Ilrin's precognitive dream ability was laid bare in his tone.

Ilrin did not avoid Viscount Arlen's gaze.

"Yes. That's why I came."

"My lord!"

At that moment, a maid appeared from around the corner at the end of the corridor.

She naturally remembered Ilrin. She had been in charge of cleaning around the mansion when Ilrin had stayed there.

"Madam is... gasp."

She forgot to report to her master and swallowed a sharp breath.

It was only natural, since she had thought she would never see that person again.

And that wasn't all.

Having seen Ilrin up close—no, having monitored her closely—she knew it well.

Ilrin's eyes were alive, as if she were a different person.

They were the eyes of someone standing firm.

Not the eyes of someone who simply yielded to the changes around her.

It might have been even more so because she was wearing ornate clothing unlike her usual plain attire.

Under the bright lights of the fourth floor, always lit for the patient, her long, vibrant silver hair and decorations sparkled even more.

"Mother called for me."

Ilrin intended to enter even if the viscount tried to stop her.

Her violet eyes gleamed with determination.

What on earth could make that frail person shine so brightly? For a moment, the maid doubted her own eyes, feeling as if she were seeing someone else.

Aden, standing behind Ilrin, placed a hand on her shoulder.

His gaze turned toward the end of the corridor from which the maid had emerged.

"It's already getting noisy."

After a brief silence, he spoke.

"It seems the event you already foresaw... is approaching."

How? How do you know?

Ilrin recalled how she had wanted to ask before coming here but stopped herself.

How does Aden know about a precognitive dream I never even told him about?

"...I'll explain the details later."

His face had darkened somewhat.

While watching Ilrin's face on the way here, he had hoped her ability would prove false this time.

She had looked so troubled and conflicted.

But it was real.

Then that meant he had foreseen what would happen after seeing the viscountess but hadn't told Ilrin.

Ilrin had foreseen his ambush, but he had instead let her be ambushed by this unexpected event.

While Ilrin looked ahead, Aden pressed his lips into a firm line.

It was too grave a sin to wrap up with a mere word like "mistake."

"Then."

Ilrin turned her gaze from Viscount Arlen, who had forgotten to speak.

She felt his sticky stare clinging to her side before shifting to follow behind as they passed.

Cold sweat broke out all over her body, as if someone were targeting her.

No need to be afraid.

Without realizing it, Ilrin reached out and grabbed Aden's arm.

He gently stroked her hand and naturally escorted her.

"Gasp."

The mansion's servants, encountering Ilrin, each swallowed sharp breaths in their own voices.

Their reactions were all similar.

How did she get here?

"...Everyone, withdraw to your rooms."

Her words carried authority the maids had never sensed from her before.

The maids unwittingly stopped what they were doing.

And so, Ilrin entered the viscountess's room with swift steps, just as in her precognitive dream.

The ceiling was the same as in the dream.

A full moon, identical to the one in the dream, hung in the sky outside the window.

Ilrin's gaze turned to Viscountess Arlen.

It was just as in the dream.

Her face held almost no sign of life.

Pale silver hair damp with cold sweat framed her ashen face.

The hair on the bed lay scattered without strength.

Her dry, bloodless lips called out to Ilrin.

"Ilrin."

What was different from the dream was that Viscountess Arlen's gaze was directed toward Ilrin as she entered the room.

Ilrin slowly approached the bedside.

She felt it more vividly than in the dream.

That her mother had no more time left.

That the dream from last night was not a nightmare, but a true precognition.

That she had foreseen the death of family once again.

I hate futures that can't be stopped.

Ilrin thought as she looked at her mother lying there.

She felt she could somewhat understand the reaction her mother had shown when she foresaw Syd's death at age seven.

The avalanche that had tried to bury Delroz's knights in Biplten had somehow been averted.

No, precisely, the avalanche itself couldn't be stopped.

But they had avoided injury.

How nice it would be if all precognitions were like that.

"...".

Ilrin gazed at her mother, whose breathing was growing fainter.

Aden, at her side, also watched Viscountess Arlen.

In his eyes, it was far clearer than earlier in the day.

The viscountess's muscles were already beginning to lose their strength.

It was a harbinger of death.

Her respiratory muscles would gradually weaken, speaking would become difficult, and her vision would blur.

She was still fixing her gaze on Ilrin with astonishing mental fortitude, but that was all—her view of them was already fading.

Her breathing was shallow.

The sound of life was dimming.

Truly, not much time remained.

Soon, even that labored breathing would cease.

"Ilrin."

The viscountess's voice echoed softly in the room once more.

Ilrin listened at the bedside.

"Yes, I'm here."

After hesitating, Ilrin added,

"...As you called for me."

Aden, who had been watching the viscountess, turned his gaze to Ilrin.

Ilrin had indeed seen the future.

Ilrin didn't like Viscount Arlen either.

In the stories she shared bit by bit each night, the viscount was always a poor father—no, one utterly useless to her life.

At seven, the incident with her brother must have shocked Ilrin greatly.

But she hadn't even properly processed those feelings before having to live under scrutiny from the man who was her father.

Being brainwashed—no, indoctrinated—that her precognitive dream ability must never be spoken of or shown.

And separated from Viscountess Arlen, who had cared for her childhood in the viscount's stead.

"...".

Viscount Arlen was the one responsible for ending Ilrin's childhood at age seven.

But what of Viscountess Arlen?

In Ilrin's stories, she was a warm mother.

Until Syd's death.

Afterward, driven mad by shock, she had hurled harsh words at Ilrin, but even when recounting that, Ilrin never wore as dark an expression as when speaking of the viscount.

What was Viscountess Arlen to Ilrin?

Coming to Biplten had meant separation from her mother for Ilrin.

No matter how natural it was for a married woman to move to her husband's territory, even by noble standards, if it left Ilrin with a sense of loss, that was Aden's own sin.

He had always thought so.

That was why it was his top priority order to Crimson Delroz.

She must not feel lonely in this unfamiliar, frightening distant Winter Lands.

But no matter how hard Delroz tried, they couldn't perfectly fill the void left by Viscountess Arlen, who had been with Ilrin in her childhood.

That fact seemed reflected in Ilrin's expression, heavier than ever before.

"You've married a fine man."

The viscountess's voice was faint.

But in the quiet room, it reached Ilrin's ears clearly.

Ilrin glanced briefly at Aden.

She gave him a small smile before answering.

"Yes."

No further explanation was needed.

Ilrin knew the viscountess had precognitive dreams too.

It had been hard to face her mother properly since age seven.

They lived in the same mansion, so they crossed paths, but as the viscountess's mania worsened, her lucid moments were rare.

So it had been a very long time.

Since they had faced each other like this.

Yet they knew everything about each other, as if they had met yesterday.

Aden briefly wondered if it was the bond between those with precognitive abilities.

If so, the viscountess's absence would be a loss Delroz could never fill.

"Even though it's not a dream, the mobile is here."

Ilrin turned her gaze to the bedside table.

As if the mobile in the precognitive dream had been mere coincidence without meaning, a familiar one sat there.

A mobile decorated with ten colors of fabric.

The one always in her dreams.

"It's yours."

The viscountess said softly.

Ilrin's eyes widened.

'Don't stop the baby from coming.'

'I have something to give.'

Was that what she had meant?

Aden's gaze returned to the mobile.

Ilrin couldn't tear her eyes away, as if trying to take in every bit of her living mother.

A mother whose absence she hadn't felt until now.

She had known her health was poor.

But she never imagined she would pass so suddenly.

Even for those with precognitive abilities, death came abruptly.

After Syd's death, she dreaded every precognitive dream, fearing another death.

And sometimes, she had vain thoughts that preparing from the moment of foresight might soften the shock.

But no.

Ilrin recalled her mother's anxiety when she foretold Syd's death.

"Mother knew this fear."

It was rare for an adult noble to use the word "mother."

Aden glanced at Ilrin once.

But he didn't want to interfere with her farewell to the viscountess.

He simply rested his hand lightly on her shoulder.

A gesture of comfort.

Ilrin held his hand as she spoke.

"You should have never said it aloud."

She recalled the words she'd heard at seven, etched into her mind like blood ever since.

That must have been what they meant.

Once you know of death, everything focuses on it, and all else loses its light.

That was why her grandmother and mother hated the precognitive ability so much.

Suddenly, the ability felt even heavier.

Unable to escape the approaching future was frightening.

All the more if the foreseen future itself was fearsome.

Ilrin's hand trembled.

Aden watched her, then quietly pulled her into an embrace.

He had much to say, but he wouldn't interrupt their parting.

Ilrin watched the viscountess until the room grew even quieter.

Aden noticed her breathing stop before Ilrin did, but he didn't say it.

When the viscountess's movements ceased, Ilrin cautiously placed her hand on her cheek.

"...".

The cheek, still warm, held no color.

It felt strange that she would never see her mother again.

No matter where or when, even in distant Winter Lands, she believed her mother lived somewhere and thought no more.

Adapting to winter was more pressing.

Even now, it was the same.

She wished she could pretend it was a dream, wake up in winter, and endure.

Then it would feel like her mother lived on in this distant Arlen mansion, and she could bear it.

But this was reality.

Reality, even with the mobile there.

The only comfort in this reality was Aden.

"Ilrin."

Aden took her trembling hand.

He kissed her forehead and said,

"Don't worry about me."

Then came the words she most longed for, most desperately wanted to hear.

"Believe in the power of winter."

In your dream, there will be no event where I die.