Once properly dressed, Liliana followed the handmaiden into the parlor, where she found the young Clyde looking nervous.
Brother...
Liliana stared at him. He was eleven years old, his still-growing body strangely disproportionate, and his face only faintly resembled his appearance in the game. There was sense in his ashen eyes, and his platinum blond hair evoked an angel.
He hasn’t started wearing his signature glasses yet, I suppose.
In the game, Clyde had been the intellectual type—talented from a young age and a strong candidate to become the next premier, all while hiding an ulterior motive. But the boy before Liliana now couldn’t even fully mask his emotions. He must have thought he appeared calm, yet he clearly didn’t know what to say to his sister, whom he hadn’t seen alone in years.
Liliana wanted to be on good terms with Clyde. And if that proved impossible, she was content with the second-best option—having nothing to do with him at all. In the game, if the protagonist chose his route, Liliana ended up either confined or dead from poison.
“It’s been a while, Lily. Sorry for the late-night visit.”
He had spoken barely above a whisper, but the nickname “Lily” carried a deep sense of nostalgia. Clyde had come in secret, as their mother was also in the manor. If she discovered that the son she adored had sought out the daughter she went to such great lengths to avoid, she would almost certainly throw a tantrum.
Liliana lowered herself onto the couch. Clyde glanced around, then shyly followed suit.
“Sorry that your chambers were moved without your permission, even though you came all this way,” he said, eyes cast down—whether from shame at his powerlessness or simple awkwardness. “There was nothing I could do.”
Oh? He really seems to mean it.
Liliana wondered if he was putting on an act to win her over, though perhaps she was making too many assumptions based on the Clyde from the game. She continued to watch him closely, a distant look in her eyes.
He must be speaking sincerely. An eleven-year-old could never be this convincing an actor.
Liliana didn’t know how, but in a few years, her sweet young brother would transform into a cunning schemer.
Clyde seemed momentarily confused, struggling to comprehend his sister’s silence. Then a look of understanding crossed his face. “Oh, right. Your voice hasn’t returned yet, has it? How are you feeling?”
Liliana smiled, nodded, and reached for the pen and paper on the table. Marianne, now waiting in another room out of consideration, had prepared everything her lady would need to communicate.
“It’s been a while. I’m pleased to see you, brother.”
Clyde was slightly taken aback by the elegance of his sister’s handwriting, but his surprise soon gave way to a smile. “I feel the same. I only recently learned about your fever and what happened to your voice. Father knew, but the news didn’t reach me right away.”
There was a note of self-deprecation in Clyde’s voice. He had purposefully avoided mentioning their mother, knowing she loved him more, though his guilt about being the favorite showed even when he spoke of their father. Liliana wasn’t sure how to interpret his true feelings.
“That’s quite all right. It’s nice that you care enough to worry.”
Clyde stared at her, nonplussed, before his sheepish smile returned.
Was he always like this?
Liliana racked her brain for the last time they had seen each other. It had been during dinner, and they hadn’t spoken in private. She had been too young to remember it fully, but she knew he had made a cold, uncaring impression.
Clyde spent most of his days at the estate, receiving an heir’s education. Liliana had heard from Marianne and other servants that he had recently begun staying at the family house in central Hudore, where their father personally instructed him and he had opportunities to meet boys from other ducal and marquesal families.
“You’ve met Austin Ealdred, right?” Clyde asked, a slight blush coloring his cheeks—perhaps from Liliana’s accepting attitude. “I was surprised when he told me about your voice. It was the first I’d heard of it.”
Riley and Austin were the same age, but Clyde was older than them both. Liliana hadn’t known her brother and Austin had spoken before, but once she got past her initial surprise, she concluded it would have been stranger if the heir of one of the three most prominent ducal families hadn’t made such a connection.
Clyde seemed unaware of what was running through his sister’s mind. He stirred anxiously in his seat, bashful about what he had just said, and added, “Well, this is fine too, of course. You’ll be here for ten days, right? You’re bound to encounter things that might make you uncomfortable. Feel free to rely on me when you do.”
“Thank you, brother.”
The uncomfortable encounters in question were clearly related to their parents. Clyde nodded in satisfaction upon seeing Liliana’s gratitude—he looked pleased that his sister was relying on him.
For a moment, Clyde’s ashen eyes wandered. Then he said, “It must be hard not having a voice. If you’d like, I can help with that too. There’s a talented mage coming to the banquet.” He surely meant well, but it wasn’t an offer that appealed to Liliana; she already assumed that either magic or a hex had taken her voice.
“A mage? But my doctor advised me to wait and see if my voice recovers naturally. Maybe I should just be patient.”
Liliana looked over her response and was relieved to see that her handwriting remained steady. She must have put up a good front. She brought her left hand to her forehead, wiping the sweat from her brow carefully so her brother wouldn’t notice.
Clyde read the note with a troubled expression. “But Lily, you’re a candidate for the crown prince’s fiancée. Isn’t it bad not to have your voice?”
“Yes, but I’m still only a candidate.”
Liliana was too flustered to come up with a convincing excuse. As she wondered whether to devise another, the emotion faded from her brother’s handsome face, leaving him particularly doll-like. Liliana braced for further attempts at persuasion.
“Fair enough. I’ll respect your wishes, then.” Clyde nodded warmly, though the light in his eyes betrayed a twinge of pain. He tried to suppress the emotion before his sister could notice. “We’ll see each other around. Let’s speak like this again if we find the time.”
It was too late for Clyde to stay. He rose from the couch, gave Liliana a reserved pat on the head, and began to leave. Liliana followed, leaving her pen and paper on the table. Marianne waited outside for them both.
Before stepping into the hallway, Clyde turned to his sister. “If you change your mind at any point, let me know. I can put in a good word with father. Good night.”
With a gentle smile, he took his leave. Marianne found the scene slightly odd but said nothing as she closed the door behind him.
“Are you going to bed now, my lady?”
Liliana nodded, returned the blouse to Marianne, and retired to the innermost section of her chambers. Once the handmaiden left and she was finally alone, she heaved a heavy sigh.
I see now. Father must have admonished him for something. I nearly fell for it.
Clyde’s parting look had almost perfectly matched the smile he’d so often given in the game. Young though he was, his beauty, calm words, and pleasant expressions were disarmingly effective. If Liliana treated the game as entirely separate from reality, she could find herself on a path of ruin from which there was no return.
He didn’t really seem to want to be father’s pawn, but I should remain wary nonetheless.
Exhausted from the unexpected visit, Liliana went into her closet and took one of the juice bottles Petra had given her from a bag she kept inside. She would cool it with magic in the hope it would invigorate her. In truth, she wanted to climb straight into bed, but she wouldn’t be able to explore the manor freely once her father and grandparents arrived.
I should save some of the juice.
Leaving half the bottle for later, she returned the juice to its bag in the closet and shut the door. Then, after casting the necessary spells on herself and the chambers, she teleported.