‘I could not believe that someone as rational as yourself would make such a mistake.’
Jean left in a carriage. Once he was out of the capital, he traveled on a horse. One would have to ride day and night for a month to reach the southern border of the Empire Joachim. Had it not been that the lady was already on her way northward, Jean would have likely thought twice about his journey. It was most fortunate that Cornell had sent a message ahead.
‘All nobles learn the craft of such a handwriting. And the path from which he had come to know you, he had explained it to you himself, and neither do the words he had said sound so particular to my ear.’
Jean had arranged to meet with the lady in an area in the midland province. He was told that the lady had been severely ill when their correspondence stopped. The marquess had also been sick, which had caused the House of Baden to wane. The handwriting of the letter she had sent was perfectly identical to that of the Little Pearl.
‘Most of all... He is the Crown Prince.’
Jean stopped his horse in a small town in the middle region. It was a territory under the governance of the Count of Francis, and Chantelle, upon hearing the circumstance, showed grace by hosting the lady in the residence of the House of Francis. Jean entered the mansion, having announced his identity and status at the gates. He had ridden for a week without any rest, but strangely, he was not fatigued.
‘He is all but the greatest enemy to our cause. How could he possibly be your most treasured one?’
A servant ran to greet Jean and led the way in. He marched upward the stairs. There was a time when the mere imagining, picturing of meeting the Little Pearl, bewitched him into feeling that he was walking down a path where lights dripped from the chandelier. On the contrary, Jean was so very lucid. He stopped his steps before the chamber, where he was told his Petite Perle was awaiting him. While the servant knocked on the door, Jean waited patiently. The sensation was akin to standing before the ephemeral door of life, where mortals lived every moment despite their knowledge of certain and inescapable demise.
“Pray, enter.”
There came a calm voice from inside. It was almost at the same time that the door had opened. Jean slightly lowered his face. He could see the red rug on the floor. The color of it seemed like that of a certain someone’s hair, weaved and braided.
“Jean?”
The lady was seated, her gown elaborate yet neither crude nor ostentatious, a detail Jean noticed. Upon the table, where one might expect to find steaming cups of tea, rested an open book and a pen with its ink. Jean forced himself to a smile, despite it being quite an awkward one.
“I have aged considerably myself, but I can see that you, my lord, have also grown into a man. I would have found it quite challenging to recognize you had I met you outside.”
‘I wonder how many are there who would remember a boy from a decade ago. I wonder who would remember a boy who wasn’t even in their own household, or recognize the man he had grown to become...’
Jean saw the shadow of a certain someone’s subtle smile cross the lady’s delicate features. He could not even bring himself to show courtesy before her. Only after a long while had passed was he able to take the lady’s hand and kiss the back of it.
“I am Ariel Baden, the eldest daughter of the Count of Baden.”
“...’Tis Jean, my lady. Your...”
“You have always addressed yourself as such in writing, my lord. Your Jean. A sweetness which you must have offered in exchange for my pearls, but I have found it quite to my liking.”
“...”
Jean could not bring himself to respond. Ariel’s smile was tender, yet Jean stood still, frozen in his spot. Your Jean. It was, indeed, the way he had always addressed himself, the way he had always signed his letters.
“You have always written that you would like to meet me in person, but I have not anticipated for you to have truly been in search of me.”
Lady Ariel said, closing her book. The title on the leather-bound cover revealed itself—『Equality』. It was the book Jean had read a long time ago, it was the book that Jean had spoken to the Little Pearl about for a long time, and now, a symbol of significance. Jean stared at the letters with an inexplicable sentiment of misery arising in him.
“You have said that you would wait...”
Jean was only able to speak after a long pause. Despite his knowledge that the lady was staring at him at length, with much curiosity in her gaze, he simply couldn’t bring his lips to part, to speak.
“You have said that you would wait... And so I hastened, concerned I might keep you waiting.”
“Ah.”
“Did you... not seek to see me?”
There came no response. She merely grinned. Jean slowly brushed the corner of the table with the tip of his finger, and the sensation of the wood felt so real that it scared Jean.
“I have not been in good health for a while, my lord.”
Ariel slowly spoke. Jean took notice of her cheeks, whose hues were rosy like a ripe peach, and of her lush golden locks. Ariel added in a voice soft yet full of life that her health had greatly improved since then.
“It was quite evident what your opinion of me was, and I could not summon the courage to face you. Not in such a state, not knowing your sentiments toward me. And afterwards... Well, were you not in a delicate situation if I were to become acquainted with you, Lord Jean Erhardt?”
“I have not anticipated that you would be aware of my inclusion in high society.”
“I was aware of it. I may not have seen you, but it does not mean I have not looked after you. I was not content with merely perusing your letters whenever opportunity allowed—have sent people to bring your tidings to me, for I, too, cherish you much.”
Ariel took out a bundle of letters from a small chest and showed them to Jean. Every one of them had been sent by him. They were tattered and worn out. The ragged corners of the letters told Jean that they had been read just as much as he had read the letters sent to him by the Little Pearl, treasured in his own chest. Here and there in the letters, Jean discerned notably irregular patches, as if the hand that had grasped them had exerted undue pressure. These spots appeared darker in hue as well.