Chapter 93
“I found him collapsed in an alley, injured. He claimed it was just from a fall, but to me it looked like a graze from something sharp—like an arrow.”
In the original story, Edwin had endured relentless harassment from his half-brother.
The day he met Summer, he had been used as a human target, dodging arrows before barely escaping.
“That kind of wound would have left a scar.”
“It probably did. It was quite deep.”
Even knowing Edwin was lying, Summer treated it with care and doodled on the bandage:
[The heart does not scar
So it wounds easily
Without even knowing the pain]
It was an excerpt from a poem by the poet Win.
A verse that cautioned those accustomed to wounding their own hearts: because the heart does not scar, one should not inflict hurt so carelessly.
Summer had been gently telling him—indirectly—that he needed to cherish himself.
That if he ever found himself in danger, blindly enduring wasn’t the answer; he needed to find the courage to act.
The moment Edwin read those lines, he burst into tears.
For someone so used to hurting himself, the words struck deep.
‘In fact, they moved him so profoundly that he eventually had them tattooed on his arm.’
That day, Edwin fell in love.
The feverish love lasted until Summer left the capital.
Afterward, Edwin searched everywhere for the girl who had vanished without a word, only to sink into despair.
The limits of his status as an illegitimate son.
The constant torment from his family.
That was when it began—his resolve to gain power.
Once he had it, the first thing he did was wipe out the entire Range family and seize the house for himself.
Revenge, yes, but also the result of a thirst for the affection he had never received and a love twisted beyond recognition.
For Summer—who had been forced to flee in the night to escape debtors—it was an emotion she could never have imagined.
‘If Summer had stayed in the capital, would his life have turned out even a little differently?’
Whenever I thought of his dark past, hidden behind that carefree facade of endless flight practice, my heart grew heavy.
‘At the very least, if she had remembered him, things might have changed.’
Her indifference had only driven him further into madness.
I broached the subject carefully.
“How’s the spot you hurt last time? You scraped your knee pretty badly when you fell.”
“It’s fine now—the scab’s formed.”
“It looked like it might scar. What did the physician say?”
“He said it might leave a mark, but it won’t be too noticeable.”
When Summer brushed it off, I slipped in a subtle hint.
“Still, it would be a shame if it did scar. Oh—come to think of it, these days people get tattoos over scars. Something they like—a favorite flower, or lines from a poem.”
“That could work.”
“Do you have a favorite poem, Miss Summer?”
“I love the poems of the poet Win.”
“Oh! I know that poet. I only recently discovered him through a club member. The one that begins ‘The heart does not scar’ left a real impression on me.”
“I know that one too. I loved it so much as a child I memorized it. …Oh! Now that I think about it, that boy’s name was Win, too. I remember being surprised they shared a name. That’s why I doodled lines from Win on his bandage.”
In the original story, this was the crucial clue that eventually allowed her to recognize Edwin.
As a child, Edwin had introduced himself to Summer as “Win.”
His mother, a maid, had always called him that.
Because it was the same as the great poet Win.
So when he saw the doodle, he recognized it instantly.
It was the poet his mother had loved most.
As memories began to return one by one, Summer continued.
“A few days later he came back with a tattoo over the scar. It was those lines from Win.”
I clapped my hands as though astonished by the coincidence.
“Really? One of my club members has the exact same tattoo in the same place. And he has jet-black eyes, too.”
At the mention of black eyes, Summer visibly wavered.
“Is that so? What an odd coincidence.”
“Isn’t it? It would be shocking if they turned out to be the same person. Actually, I only learned about Win’s poetry because of him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Edwin Range. I think I heard once that he was called ‘Win’ when he was little. Now that you mention it, it’s similar to the poet’s name.”
I let the details from the original story slip out naturally while watching her reaction.
After his mother’s death, Edwin had never told anyone else about the nickname “Win.”
It reminded him too much of her.
‘Right now, Summer is the only one who knows—but what harm is there in her finding out?’
Preventing Edwin’s descent into darkness was far preferable to guarding the original story’s secrets.
At the mention of the similar name, Summer seemed almost certain they were the same person.
She began piecing together more memories of Edwin.
“Now that I think about it, he said he was the illegitimate son of some noble house.”
“Oh my—really? Edwin’s an illegitimate son too. The entire Range family died of an epidemic, so he’s the head of the house now.”
“I see.”
Summer’s expression grew thoughtful. All the circumstances pointed to her childhood friend, yet she seemed oddly cautious.
“But he’s probably forgotten me. If you hadn’t been there, I might not even have remembered his name.”
“I’m not so sure. He can seem aloof, but he has an excellent memory.”
If any Magia club member heard that, they’d call it nonsense—but I said it with a straight face.
“I bet he’d remember you the moment he saw you. Your name’s easy to remember, after all.”
In the original story, Summer was the only person whose name Edwin ever said properly, so I could say it with confidence.
“Why don’t you come visit the club sometime when you’re free? I can even help you join if you’d like.”
At my invitation, Summer blinked.
“But hasn’t the membership period already ended?”
“Current members can recommend someone for admission anytime.”
“I see. But I have to return home once my research is finished.”
Summer rolled her eyes and politely declined.
She seemed frightened after what Nanael’s group had done to her last time.
But I wasn’t about to back down.
“You said earlier you don’t have any friends here. This is a perfect chance to make some.”
I could say that because Lotti was in Magia.
The two of them would become friends the moment they met.
“And aren’t you curious whether Edwin really is that boy?”
“Well… yes.”
As Summer began to waver, I pulled out a club card.
“It’s actually quite close by. And it’s near the Genus club, so you might even run into my brother if you’re lucky.”
I was shamelessly using Adrian as bait.
But at the mention of Adrian, Summer’s face suddenly darkened.
“Ah…”
She looked strangely uncomfortable, and I tilted my head.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen with my brother?”
“Um…”
“It’s all right—tell me. I’m usually not on his side anyway.”
It already sounded like I was taking my future sister-in-law’s side, but Summer’s expression remained troubled.
She fidgeted with her cup before speaking.
“I think it would be best if I avoided Lord Adrian for a while.”
“What? Why?”
I thought things were going well between them.
I was utterly bewildered by Summer’s sudden change of attitude.
“Did my brother do something wrong? Want me to scold him for you?”
“No, no! He didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, it feels like he’s getting unnecessary misunderstandings because of me…”
My brother would probably say it wasn’t a misunderstanding but a lucky break.
“What happened?”
“Someone must have seen me visit the Peris estate last time. Lately, letters keep arriving at the magic tower.”
Summer looked dejected as she rummaged in her bag and pulled something out.
Even from the outside, the envelopes were unmistakably sinister—written in vivid red ink. I didn’t need to read the contents to know what they were.
“What on earth are all these…?”
