Chapter 48

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 48

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Nils and Ivonne's feelings toward their mother were slightly different in nature from those they harbored toward Hayden.

If Hayden was the perpetrator who had wounded them, then the countess, conversely, was the object of their guilt.

The countess that Iona remembered was the epitome of an elegant noblewoman. Anyone who had known her would agree without hesitation.

Having entered into a political marriage with Hayden, she hadn't loved her husband, but she remained steadfastly faithful to him with unwavering composure.

Even up until the moment he brought home his illegitimate child from outside and demanded to register her in the family.

"She had to maintain her dignity as the countess, so she lived a suppressed life out of necessity. But what woman could welcome a child born from her husband's infidelity? She eventually accepted me, but from then on, she said life no longer felt like living."

"Why would Mother say something like that only to you...?"

"Nils, your mother despised me. But thankfully, she never tormented me directly or tried to cast me out. She always wanted to be a good wife and a good mother."

The countess treated Iona as if she didn't exist at all.

She never initiated conversation first, and if someone brought up Iona, she would simply smile quietly and wait for the topic to change.

By denying Iona's very existence, she paradoxically became the kindest person to Iona in that household—or at least, that's how Iona remembered her.

To a child accustomed to violence, indifference felt like a sweet mercy.

"But even a woman like that reached her breaking point in the very end. She wanted to let her husband's loathsome illegitimate child know just how deeply she had been hurt. Asking to speak with me one last time was her first chance to resent me as a human being. In that moment, her anger overpowered her love for her own children."

"So what exactly are you trying to say? If you're trying to blame Mother...!"

"You still don't get the point of the story?"

Iona coldly swatted away his hand gripping her collar.

She glared at Nils and enunciated each word deliberately.

"Nils, your mother suffered because of your father right up until her dying breath. And yet here you are, siding with the man who ruined her, all for your own peace of mind."

"......"

"Keep scavenging the scraps the count tosses your way. That's what suits you."

Iona spat the words with contemptuous scorn.

Nils was already breathing heavily.

Iona turned her back on him without a shred of lingering attachment.

Nils couldn't bring himself to grab the departing Iona. He seemed afraid that even worse words might pour from her mouth.

It was a cowardly choice, but in the end, a rather wise one. There was still more shocking truth she hadn't revealed.

As she reached the central staircase, Iona recalled the day she had gone to see the countess at her summons.

Walking the same path she tread now, she had perhaps been a little excited back then.

It was a hope she couldn't share with anyone, but Iona had longed to hear something like, "It wasn't your fault."

Even up until she entered the countess's room and greeted her, things had unfolded much like her long-held imaginings.

The countess silently stroked the back of Iona's hand for a long while, then beckoned her closer with a small gesture.

Breathing raggedly with fever, she pressed her lips to Iona's forehead for the first time.

Then, with a satisfied smile, she said,

"Next, it will be your turn."

Iona didn't understand her words right away.

As she blinked in confusion, the countess brushed Iona's hair behind her ear.

It was a tender touch, but the intent behind it was utterly at odds with its gentle facade.

"But we'll never meet again in this world. Isn't that fortunate? You'll be going to hell."

"......"

"Don't block my children's path any longer. Let's end our ill-fated tie here."

Only then did she realize.

Why the countess had chosen her as the recipient of her final words.

The countess believed her illness was contagious.

Around that time, a plague with similar symptoms had been sweeping the capital.

The doctor had revised his initial diagnosis based on her progress, but the patient herself—half-delirious from persistent high fever—remained unaware.

Facing the countess, who sincerely wished for her own death, Iona couldn't bring herself to speak.

Whether to heaven or hell, the only one leaving this place was her, so the countess's wish could never come true.

In that moment, Iona presumptuously felt pity for the countess's life. She couldn't help picturing the peaceful days the woman might have enjoyed if only she hadn't existed.

I had ruined her so thoroughly that even the ever-gentle woman uttered such horrific words and laughed in relief.

Iona opened her mouth to respond, then quietly clenched her teeth.

It was only after a brief silence that she finally found her voice.

"You will go to heaven, Madam. As you said, I might end up in hell."

So I'll cling to life a little more tenaciously, Iona murmured inwardly, chewing over the words.

"Please rest easy and close your eyes."

That was the end.

Soon after, she passed with a serene expression.

Had she confided her plan to infect someone, the countess would have realized it was impossible, but she was not the type to reveal such inner thoughts to others.

For a woman who had spent her life striving to be an elegant noblewoman, her posthumous reputation mattered greatly as well.

In that way, she lost even the chance to tell her own children one last time that she loved them.

By keeping the countess's final words secret, Iona ensured she would be remembered forever as a noble woman.

No matter how deeply she had hated Iona in her heart—more than anyone—she truly deserved that much.

That night, when Hayden returned home late, he heard the news of Fleur's visit belatedly and couldn't hide his bewilderment.

The woman he had kept close and doted on for a time had brazenly come to his house and caused a scene. And today of all days wasn't even the anniversary of his late wife's death?

Furious at such unreasonable behavior, Hayden even felt wronged. His children would undoubtedly blame their father blindly, even though this wasn't something he had intended.

The account he heard from the servants went something like this:

Upon seeing Fleur arrive, Nils and Ivonne flew into a rage. Ivonne had even tried to get into a physical altercation with her, but Iona stepped in, defused the situation, and sent Fleur away...

Around then, feeling a twinge of doubt, Hayden muttered to himself.

"Why did that girl step forward?"

"It seemed she was concerned for your reputation, my lord. She told Lady Ivonne that she understood the anger but to consider your position as well."

Hayden subtly gauged the maid who had spoken up.

Seeing that she was one of Ivonne's servants yet defending Iona, it seemed the words rang true.

The other servants weren't contradicting her either; they simply bowed their heads meekly.

Hayden glanced at the butler.

The butler's response only bolstered his conviction.

"...It's true. She even asked Lady Fleur not to put you in a more difficult spot and to please leave. Upon hearing that, Lady Fleur promptly agreed and turned back."

Hayden felt a strange mix of emotions. He had never imagined Iona would step up and take his side.

Of course, since Iona had no reason to miss the countess, she could maintain her rationality—but precisely because of that, Hayden now found her more comfortable than his other children.

After all, she was the only one who had considered his dignity today, which made him feel a twinge of gratitude.

Hayden first dismissed the gathered servants and ordered Iona to be summoned.

In the now-quiet room, emptied like the receding tide, he sank into deep thought.