Chapter 19
Only Me
2023.08.19.
I was foolish, lost in memories.
Lowell’s shoe struck the lifeless garden. She watched from beyond the shadows as the garden lost its life in an instant. Her memories, the proof that someone had loved her, disappearing completely.
The whole time she watched, Lowell felt her breath catch.
Why? Why recall the Hesse fire here?
“It’s just a memory.”
A memory that had been preserved, one that should have disappeared ten years ago, finally reaching its proper end.
Yes, that’s all it was…
But why did that truth make her heart ache as if it were being torn apart?
A few steps forward, and a red petal caught her toe. Lowell bent down and picked it up.
In a garden drained of color, only this single petal remained red. Soon, even this would succumb to the same fate as the garden. Yet, because it had fallen earlier, it survived the garden’s demise.
Just like her.
Only this petal would prove that once, red roses had bloomed here.
Only this would prove that life had once existed in this space, now withered and turned to ash.
Only…
“…me alone.”
Tears slid down Lowell’s cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, yet her cheeks were wet again moments later. Feeling the endless tears, she laughed.
It was laughable—she was crying just because the garden had died. Laughable—she felt a kinship with a single petal she had plucked.
Even passing through the brutal Operta hadn’t shaken her, yet the thought of a garden dying so easily unsettled her. That lingering affection within her, the fact that she had reconsidered vengeance over such a shallow feeling, was absurdly foolish and ridiculous!
“Yes, I was foolish.”
Peter’s thoughts didn’t matter. The reasons the Hesse estate burned, the mistakes her father had made, the true circumstances—none of that mattered. To dwell on them now was absurd!
Why should Lowell understand the motives of the perpetrators, or the reasons they acted as they did?
“Even if I knew, the dead wouldn’t come back.”
The lives lost unjustly wouldn’t become trivial, nor would the ten years she had lived disappear!
Whenever she faced the burned house from ten years ago, Lowell felt unbearably ashamed. No matter how she thought about it, if anyone deserved to die, it should have been her—not the people of the Hesse estate.
The years she lived waiting for death were humiliating. Everyone else had died, and she alone survived miserably, clinging to life.
How would her family, who died unjustly, mock her if they saw her?
Wouldn’t they point fingers at her, the one who bore all the world’s suffering as if she were about to die tomorrow, only to see her survive?
Every day, Lowell prayed in her dreams. To her family, to the servants who had died, kneeling before the burned estate, she prayed.
I’m sorry I’m the only one alive.
Yet she never chose death. Unable to summon the courage to think of her family, she clung to memories of Peter and survived pitifully.
And Peter—the boy in her memories who had allowed her to live—was now the very target of her revenge.
Just that fact made Lowell a sinner once more.
Before, surviving alone was a sin. Now, every moment she recalled Peter to survive became a sin.
Peter, by existing, could so easily make her feel guilty.
And she knew it.
“I… again…”
Unable to abandon such shallow hope, she became a sinner once more.
Hesitation had been foolish.
Even the faint laugh that escaped her face sharpened it, making it colder than before.
Emerging from René’s shadow into the open, she spoke.
“René, I have a request.”
The black cat was now stepping on Lowell’s shadow. She thought its golden eyes seemed to be smiling. But when she thought of René, a smiling face always came to mind, so perhaps it wasn’t unusual.
She lightly dropped the petal she held, as if brushing it off, and continued.
“Bring me an item. Not to Ruben, but to Devona.”
There aren’t enough attendants. At her explanation of the “item” and the words she added afterward, the cat’s black tail slowly swished.
There was no reply, but none was needed. In the blink of an eye, the shadow familiar had disappeared, and Lowell could read that as confirmation.
Exiting from a shadow familiar always brought a similar sensation.
A displeasing feeling, as if pulling herself free from a sticky quagmire.
As magic dissipated, René’s vision instantly shifted from the imperial palace to the Martinek estate.
The silver-haired gentleman leaned back in his chair, a faint smile spreading as he realized he was fully back. The servant by his side spoke.
“You seem in good spirits, master.”
“Ah, Ruben. I was rather lucky today. Days like this are rare.”
With a face that could have been humming a tune, he stood, buttoned the vest he had loosened while sitting, put on leather gloves, and rang a small silver bell—a sequence so elegant it seemed the epitome of nobility.
Soon, there was a knock at the door. It was a woman with short, pale lavender hair.
“Did you call, master?”
Her name was Devona. She had followed Anet from Operta after Anet saved her life. Now, with Anet at the palace, she was out of work.
“Devona, Anet requests you. She seems to need someone to serve her.”
“Really? Immediately…?”
“Ah, enthusiasm is good, but there’s an item you must take. Anet specifically asked for it to be sent to her.”
Anet’s description of the item was simple: location and a single caution.
“The red case in the third drawer on the right under the desk. Do not open it.”
“Understood. May I depart immediately with your permission?”
“Of course. Give Anet my regards.”
With René’s approval, Devona bowed deeply and left the room. Judging by her excitement, if she hadn’t received permission, she would have been craning her neck toward the palace all night.
Watching her leave, a faint, unreadable smile touched René’s face.
Above the closed door, the image of Anet she had just seen replayed in his mind.
[…Peter.]
That helpless expression. Tears streaking down her face endlessly. Shocked, as if she would collapse and never rise again. Unable to scream or cry out, she had laughed like a lunatic.
In the end, she returned to her usual emotionless expression, but René saw clearly the chaotic emotions that had filled her face in that fleeting moment. How brilliantly despairing it had been.
“Haha.”
René laughed aloud, though it was a dry sound, nothing more. The smile on his face was habitual, his eyes, his hand on the desk, all followed well-trained etiquette. Everything was perfectly ordinary.
Perhaps, in a lifetime, he could never fully laugh or cry with all his emotions like Anet did.
Thus, he must assist Anet.
Only she could show genuine emotion in his bleak world.
“…”
After a moment of thought, René withdrew his hand from the desk, smiling like a child recalling a prank.
“Ruben, send a conduit to Grotear.”
He would need to meet someone there.
A few days later, the former Empress’ palace.
“Lord Grotear! What did I tell you? You should trust me!”
Bang! The usually quiet, high-quality teacup slammed loudly onto the saucer.
Normally, even a clatter like that would barely be audible on the tea table, but today was different.
Sitting across from her, unusually excited, was Monique.
“What has happened, Your Imperial Highness?”
The middle-aged man across from her was Karim Grotear. One of Monique’s few connections, he was the head of the Grotear family and the inheritor of the marquis title.
Others often wondered why Karim supported Monique, but she found him useful. With just a little trust, he would spill everything he knew. Though bothersome at times, it wasn’t entirely bad.
Today was no different.
“I came as you urgently requested, but I must remind you not to believe rumors. As for Lowell Hesse—”
“No! This is not a rumor. I’m not an idiot to waste your time with nonsense. I’ve found the real one, the true one!”
Monique was so excited that her flushed face showed beneath her makeup. She gestured to the attendant behind her to bring something—a velvet case, luxurious in appearance. Too big to be jewelry, too small to be clothing.
Seeing Karim’s suspicious gaze, Monique laughed and waved her hand.
“Don’t dawdle, open it already!”
