IWAPUF 59

“Oh my!”
“As a refined lady, I can’t just bathe anywhere outside, so I’m in quite a predicament.”
“Goodness, what to do about this?”
Madame Miela continued the conversation as if she had witnessed the incident herself, speaking on my behalf with ease. The Baroness of Bizdel’s expressions shifted vividly with her words.
As expected, Madame Miela was perfect for this role. She was naturally talkative, her words often laced with a touch of exaggeration—not out of malice, but simply her innate character.
Thanks to her chattiness, the Marchioness of Engrail and the Baroness of Bizdel naturally learned that this was red dye, not blood. Having achieved my goal, I gave them an embarrassed look to match Madame Miela’s chatter.
“I’m mortified to be seen like this.”
“Mortified? Don’t worry about us, my lady,” the Marchioness of Engrail reassured.
“Indeed, you must have been the one startled,” the Baroness of Bizdel added.
Both women comforted me simultaneously. Perhaps due to the gifts, their demeanor was even friendlier than at the hunting tournament.
“But how do you plan to return home looking like this?”
“I have a carriage waiting at the back.”
“I see.”
While the Marchioness of Engrail nodded gracefully and stepped back, the Baroness of Bizdel, with a reluctant expression, reached out toward me.
Reacting quickly, I dodged her hand. If the dye got on her and the spies realized it wasn’t blood, it would ruin everything. I smiled at the flustered Baroness to show it wasn’t a rejection.
“The dye will stain, Baroness.”
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
As the Baroness flushed with embarrassment, the Marchioness stepped forward.
“She meant to thank you, my lady, but got carried away. She’s quite emotional and sometimes acts impulsively. Please understand.”
“It’s fine. I’m the one sorry for not being able to stay and talk longer in this state.”
“I understand completely, my lady. We’ll continue our conversation another time. I’ll express my gratitude for the gift then.”
The Marchioness gracefully made way. Though a princess born of a concubine, her refined manners befitted her former royal status.
The Baroness followed suit, stepping back slightly but still casting lingering glances my way.
“Let’s meet again soon, my lady,” she said earnestly.
I nodded with a smile, and the Marchioness’s gentle voice followed.
“I’ll send an invitation to the Eliant household soon. I’d be delighted if you’d accept.”
“I’d be honored to accept your invitation. Until then, Marchioness, Baroness.”
After parting with them, Madame Miela handed me the cloak. With a hood and long enough to reach my feet, it was perfect for my purpose.
“It’s a bit thick.”
“Winter’s coming. It’s my latest creation, set to be the trend this season,” Madame Miela said proudly.
I donned the cloak with her help. As expected, it covered me entirely from head to toe. However, as I moved, the slit in the cloak revealed glimpses of my dye-stained skirt, which I noted with a satisfied smile.
“No one’s around, my lady,” Madame Miela said, gesturing after checking outside.
Following her lead, I left the building carefully, cloaked. The carriage waited a few steps away, as planned. The door opened, and I hurried inside.
Thud!
The moment the door closed, the horses began to move. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Relief washed over me after clearing one hurdle, but my body, tense despite my calm facade, betrayed me.
For a while, only the sound of the carriage moving filled the space.
“What’s the situation outside?” I asked.
Anasha, who had been silent in the carriage, finally spoke.
“I spotted several watchful eyes where the carriage was waiting.”
“Did they see clearly?”
“I wore a light blue dress to make the red stand out. Unless they’re colorblind, they saw it well.”
Anasha chuckled softly.
As she said, I had deliberately chosen a pale sky-blue dress to make the red dye pop. It would be troublesome if they didn’t notice.
“Now the real show begins.”
* * *
Upon arriving at the mansion, I was greeted by my father’s stern face, fresh from the palace. I removed the hood, revealing my dye-stained hair.
Father merely furrowed his brow at my appearance, showing no surprise or panic. He gave me an inscrutable look, then turned away with a single sentence.
“Come to the study when you’re ready.”
I had braced myself for his reaction during the ride, so his usual demeanor left me oddly deflated.
“Miss, what in the world happened?” Mari and the maids waiting in the main hall rushed toward me in a frenzy. Some, mistaking the dye for blood, staggered or collapsed in a faint.
The head maid, the most experienced, was the first to regain composure and began sternly managing the others. I dismissed the rest and instructed only the head maid to follow me, ensuring no one realized the dye wasn’t blood.
No matter how carefully we managed, spies always slipped through. I had long noticed that some servants were others’ eyes and ears. I’d left them be for moments like this.
“First, to the bath, miss,” the head maid said.
I handed her the cloak. Though surely curious, she asked no questions, silently following with the cloak in hand.
She had served the Eliant family for years. Even when the household was in disarray after my nursemaid left, she remained steadfast, doing her duty. Her discretion and gravity made her one of my trusted people.
“Burn the cloak and dress yourself. Report anyone acting suspiciously without fail.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Where’s Rant?”
“By the master’s orders, he’s studying in his room. Shall I fetch him?”
“No, I’ll visit him later.”
I found it odd that Rant, who usually rushed to greet me, was absent. I was relieved, as I didn’t want him to see me looking blood-soaked. I hadn’t considered that his absence was due to Father’s orders, not his own choice.
I knew Father had shadows watching me. Reports must have reached him before I even arrived. His consideration brought an involuntary smile to my lips.
Clink.
In the quiet study, only the sound of tea being poured into a cup broke the silence. The steaming tea radiated heat even without touching it.
Father didn’t speak until the butler prepared my tea. An empty teacup sat before him.
Even without Father’s instruction, the butler filled his empty cup with practiced ease, as if it were routine.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of my nails hitting the smooth wooden armrest of the sofa filled the space, replacing the sound of pouring tea. Father’s face remained impassive, but his fingers moved rhythmically, as if reflecting complex thoughts.
His blue eyes, deep in thought, were shadowed. He seemed unaware of his own actions.
I realized another unexpected similarity between us. A ticklish feeling stirred in my chest.
My eyes met the butler’s, standing silently behind Father. He gave me a knowing smile, as if he understood my thoughts. I avoided his gaze, lifting my teacup.
“You…” Father finally spoke after a long silence.
I set down the teacup I’d raised to drink, straightening to listen. He paused briefly before continuing.
“You were never a demanding child.”
With just one sentence, he lifted his teacup, drinking the steaming tea as if his throat were parched. He set it down carefully, without a sound, as etiquette demanded. Only half the tea remained.
“You never begged or threw tantrums. That was admirable, but…”
He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing noticeably.
“It felt… lacking.”
His gaze fixed on me. His face remained expressionless, but his eyes held a multitude of emotions.
“Even now, you don’t ask for my help.”
His blue eyes, which I always thought held cool detachment, flickered with faint pain.
“It must all be my fault.”
A bitter, self-mocking smile broke through his impassive mask.
I knew I should say something, but my throat felt blocked, no words coming out. Whatever he read in my silence, the dark emotions—grief or regret—deepened on his face.
“Bionne.”
“Yes.”
I could only respond after he called my name.
“You are my daughter.”
“I know.”
“Yes. I see.”