Chapter 34

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: The Count's Declaration
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But now, I understand. I understand just how useful these meals, where everyone is gathered, can be.

Mother was a frail woman, but she was capable of surprising resolve when faced with a catalyst that stirred a sense of duty within her. This was most evident when it concerned me, or when it was a matter of her own treatment.

Dinner, when everyone was gathered—especially tonight with Madame de La Vallière—was more solemn and quiet than usual. No one was bold enough to let their silverware clatter in her presence. An occasional clink could be heard as food was served, but the room was otherwise nearly silent; even the sound of chewing was barely audible. Everyone, save for Roena, cut their meat with impassive faces.

“Sister.”

At my stepfather’s call, Madame de La Vallière turned her head. Her brow was slightly furrowed, her wide eyes trembling in disbelief. For my stepfather to address her during a meal was exceedingly rare—it was a shocking breach of decorum.

But my stepfather’s face was filled with gravity as he looked at her. His expression was hard, set, as if he had made a firm resolution.

“You know how much I respect you, Sister. Your brilliant intellect, elegant grace, and beautifully noble conduct are an inspiration to others. That is true for my two daughters as well. It is a joyous thing to have a perfect role model to look up to.”

“If you began speaking only to sing my praises, could it not wait until later? I do not see the need for such haste.”

“It is because this must be said while everyone is present. Sister, the head of House Vischwartz is me. You are aware of that, are you not?”

“Of course. Is that not an exceedingly obvious fact?”

“And my wife, this lovely woman sitting next to me, is the lady of House Vischwartz. You are aware of that as well, are you not?”

Madame de La Vallière lifted her napkin to dab at her lips—a clear sign she would eat no more. Instead of answering my stepfather, she merely wet her lips with wine. The slight furrow of her brow clearly betrayed her displeasure.

I lifted my gaze to Mother. Her face held a mixture of fear and an unspeakable, firm resolve. It was the pride of a noblewoman, dwelling within the heart of a lovely lady.

I realized then that Mother would no longer retreat or remain a bystander. She would boldly confront all the injustices heaped upon her. It was a decision both courageous and befitting a lady.

Madame de La Vallière spoke in a low, sharp tone. Her voice, as cold and heavy as a winter frost, made everyone flinch.

“This is hardly a conversation to be had here.”

“No, this is precisely the place for this conversation. Absolutely. Therefore, until I have finished, no one shall rise from their seat. That includes you, Sister.”

“Good heavens! How utterly preposterous. No one—save for the sovereign who rules this empire and my own husband—has ever dared to command me so forcefully. If you truly respected me as your sister, you would not behave in such a manner.”

“But I am the Count of Vischwartz. Though your name is now La Vallière, we are still siblings by blood, and as such, you must respect and heed my words. I have a duty to put my own house in order. And above all, Sister, you must understand one thing: I have never once considered you a guest here.”

“Very well. What is it you wish to say to me?”

My stepfather declared in a resolute tone.

“Show respect to my wife, the lady of House Vischwartz. If you love me—no, if you love this house—then I trust you are more than capable of doing so. I am not unaware that timely counsel can enlighten the foolish and reform the indulgent. But there is a time and place for everything! A woman as wise as yourself must surely know that, Sister?”

Madame de La Vallière’s face flushed crimson, as if it might burst. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her rigidly raised chin trembled with humiliation and fury.

It was not difficult, then, to imagine the blue veins bulging on the fists she kept hidden beneath the tablecloth. Madame de La Vallière ought to be grateful that the dress she wore today was made of silk.

Otherwise, she would have left unsightly creases in the fabric, making herself a laughingstock for all to see.

“Is that the opinion of your wife, the Countess? Did *that woman* ask you to say this?”

“No. This is my opinion, and mine alone. It is something I should have done long ago; my only regret is that I have waited this long.”

Was this the calm before the storm, or a moment where a single spark could ignite a blaze? Madame de La Vallière placed a hand on her chest as if to suppress a gasp, her lips twitching.

All eyes were on her. My stepfather tried to stoically endure the volatile atmosphere. Mother, though visibly terrified and trembling, did not look away. Only Roena glanced about, her face on the verge of tears. As for me, I quietly savored the delicious tension.

After a moment of silence, Madame de La Vallière spoke. Her face was still flushed with anger, but her voice was as gentle as ever. Or rather, she seemed to be striving for it. She appeared to believe that raising her voice against my stepfather would only wound them both.

“It seems I have been discourteous to the Countess. I hope you can find it in your heart to be generous. I am not sure what misunderstanding I may have caused, but please know it was never my intent. You can forgive me, can you not?”

When had Madame de La Vallière ever spoken to Mother with such courtesy? All she had ever shown her was contempt, loathing, and a cold disdain laced with scorn.

Strictly speaking, her tone was not nearly as gentle as the one she used with Roena.

It was nothing but a superficial pretense, nothing more. Yet both my stepfather and Mother seemed greatly satisfied with it.

Mother, especially. She—though it was through my stepfather’s power—was so pleased to receive an apology from Madame de La Vallière in front of everyone that her eyes glistened with tears.

“Oh, of course. Of course. It is only natural that I would.”

Ah, you naive woman! Why can you not read the wretched fury coiled in her eyes?

I was appalled by Mother’s attitude. I was disappointed in my stepfather for not pressing his advantage. If it had been me, if only it had been me…!

In truth, if one decides to confront an enemy, to stand against them, one must push harder. Fierce as a wolf, swift as a fox, and cunning as a serpent.

A response like that was worse than making no attempt at all. Ah, why do they not understand that a naive, lamb-like reaction is not the only elegant way for a noble to act?

Above all, Madame de La Vallière was not a woman to be trifled with. She was not one to endure such an insult with a smile.

But my stepfather's clumsy response only served to provoke Madame de La Vallière's animosity. Now, what did that signify?

“I shall take my leave now. I am not feeling well.”

Madame de La Vallière rose from her seat as if she could bear it no longer. My stepfather and Mother did not stop her.

I had lost my appetite as well, so I excused myself and rose. I had barely left the room when I heard a voice call my name from behind. It was Roena.

Did she follow me out to talk about what just happened?

“Cisse, um… could we talk for a moment?”

Her flushed cheeks, her eyes sparkling with excitement. A shy voice, as bright and clear as a songbird. Things I could never have. But soon, things I will.

I responded with a smile.

“Of course.”

***

I had no desire for a long conversation with Roena, so I didn't suggest we go elsewhere. There was nothing more trying than having to sit and talk with her for any length of time.

Besides, I had just been enjoying a delicious meal. It would be utterly mortifying if I couldn't stomach my disgust and ended up vomiting.

She had called out to me with such spirit, yet now that it was time to speak, she hesitated, watching my face. Her lips moved silently, betraying her inner turmoil.

Hadn’t she come to talk about Mother and Madame de La Vallière?

I waited patiently for her to speak.

We were standing in a well-trafficked corridor, so I needed to maintain an appearance just as gentle as Roena's. It was exhausting, but I bore it with composure.

After a moment, Roena gave a firm nod as if she had made up her mind. She looked at me, and I had to suppress a derisive laugh at the anxiety—and something more—on her face. The thought *surely not* crossed my mind.

“Cisse, I'm sorry. You were very disappointed in me, weren't you?”

Ah, just as I suspected. So she came to talk about *that*.

But why today? She should have done it on the day it happened. What more could she possibly say now, after hiding behind Madame de La Vallière and Mother? It was just grating. In the end, she only ever did as she pleased.

I forced my lips, which threatened to twist into a sneer, into a neutral line. Then, as if I had no idea what she meant, I asked gently.

“Whatever do you mean? Why would I be disappointed in you?”

“The time I forgave that servant without asking you first. But please, don’t misunderstand. It was only because you said you weren’t used to the way nobles speak. I just wanted to help. Our aunt is teaching you, but it hasn’t been very long, has it? That’s why I did it.”

“Oh, I see.”

I beamed. I reached out and took both of Roena’s hands in mine. If I hadn't, I might have slapped her across the face. Instinctive urges can be terrifying.

Roena looked deeply moved that I had taken her hands. Her anxious expression vanished, replaced by a beaming smile that looked not just simple, but foolish.

Ah, yes. *Foolish*. Had I ever thought of her as foolish before? For some reason, my mood began to lift. I spoke in a soft, gentle voice.

“It’s alright. It means you were thinking of me. I wasn’t bothered in the slightest.”

“That’s such a relief. I was so afraid you were terribly disappointed in me, Cisse.”

“Not at all. Since it was you, Roena, it’s fine. It always is.”

I have no intention of offering her any advice; I will only ever praise her, even when she is in the wrong. I only want her to stay exactly as she is now. To appear strange in the eyes of others, to make them question her… yes, just like that.

Had I not learned from the past that, given the chance, Roena would grow and soar?

Therefore, I desperately want Roena never to grow. I want her to remain a child, sobbing in Mago’s arms. Matters of etiquette and common sense are of secondary importance.

I intend to suffocate her with social blunders and innocent malice, all built upon the foundation of a single phrase: ‘Since it was you, it’s fine.’