“Oh... it truly looks like you have completely settled into... all of this,” Ivan commented, casually gesturing to the castle's festive decorations while keeping a measuring eye locked on Miller.
“Yes. Not just myself, but Miller as well,” Francesca replied smoothly, navigating the stone ramp with her cane in hand and Miller providing steady, solid support by her side.
“Hmm,” Ivan offered a thin smile, walking alongside them down the long corridor.
Now what is he plotting? Francesca thought, inwardly annoyed by his presence.
Ivan suddenly paused, snapping his fingers. “Ah... I completely forgot. Albert, you did manage to retrieve it, correct?” Albert, who had been marching quietly behind the three, quickly stepped forward. “The sunflower, young Lord? I did bring it along, but...”
Ivan raised his hand with a smooth smile, cutting his knight off to continue. “You see, dear sister, I thought that since you must miss our childhood home in the capital, I should bring you some fresh sunflowers so you can cultivate them here, you know.”
“Sunflowers? In the frozen North?” Miller muttered, his brow furrowing as he heard the absurd suggestion.
Francesca maintained her flawless, icy smile. Of course... you did.
“Ah... that’s right. The North doesn’t exactly get much sunlight, does it?” Ivan chuckled softly, tilting his head. “Oh well. It’s not like the Ironwood Viscounty will wither away like the sunflowers. I suppose I will simply have to find you a different, more fitting gift later.”
Miller didn’t quite know how to respond to such a veiled insult, while Francesca simply turned, subtly nudging Miller to support her as they moved forward. “I would certainly appreciate that...” she replied sweetly, leading the way toward the grand dining hall.
Once they settled down to eat their meal, Francesca fired back her own elegant counter-attack. “You know, they say that even the stray dogs of the Capital are perfectly capable of telling the difference between the quality of food they find in the streets. Because of that, I am confident you won't face any trouble adjusting to Ironwood’s superior local cuisine.”
“Y-yeah! After all, it is very difficult to find fresh moringa anywhere else easily, after all,” Miller chimed in, trying his absolute best to support Francesca. He spoke awkwardly, clearly not well-versed in the intricate, passive-aggressive trash-talking of the high nobility.
“Don’t worry, sister. I am rather advanced enough to know exactly how rare it is to be able to eat fresh Moringa,” Ivan replied instantly, his smile never wavering. “After all, it is one of the very few things the North actually has going for it.”
As the evening progressed, the chatter continued down the same exhausting road, filled with sharp back-and-forth barbs hidden behind polite smiles. The heavy drinks flowed until the conversation eventually ground to a halt, right before the brilliant full moon became fully visible through the grand window.
“Now, now, we should definitely stop here for the night... We can’t have you hungover for tomorrow morning’s chapel sermon,” Francesca declared, setting her glass down.
Ivan simply scoffed, draining the remainder of his drink. Wiping his hands elegantly on a linen napkin, he rose to his feet. “I have never been late to a single appointment in my entire life after my childhood,” he stated flatly.
“I know,” Francesca said softly.
Suddenly, her golden eyes flashed with a deep, crushing expression of guilt and profound sadness. The atmosphere in the dining room instantly froze into an awkward, heavy silence between the two siblings.
Tsk.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Ivan turned on his heel and abruptly left the room. Miller opened his mouth, wanting to ask about the sudden, intense wave of tension that had just passed, but looking at the pained, strained look on Francesca's face as she stared at the empty doorway, he decided against pushing her for answers tonight.
“Do I really need to travel out to the lakeside tonight, Francesca?” Miller asked, his voice filled with concern. “I know how critically important it is to personally oversee the secret manufacturing of the cable carts, but still...”
Francesca reached up, planting a gentle, reassuring kiss on his cheek. “You worry far too much, Miller. I lived in the Leoncraft Estate my entire life surrounded by my brothers and a father who openly despised me. Nothing is going to happen to me here.”
“You have to go. I will be perfectly alright tonight alone,” Francesca insisted gently. “We absolutely need those cable carts fully operational before whatever political lobbying Ivan is doing with the neighboring lords comes to fruition.”
Nodding his head reluctantly, Miller gave her a tender kiss on the forehead and walked out of the dining hall, leaving her alone in the quiet room.
Francesca sat there in the stillness, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as the castle staff quietly cleaned up the table around her.
“Father and Brother are traitors! I am not like them, Francesca! You are my little sister, and I will protect you with my life!” The long-forgotten image of a young, silver-haired boy fiercely holding her childhood hand replayed vividly in her mind.
But it was instantly shattered, followed by a sudden, cruel echo.
“They were right, Francesca. You are nothing but a crippled curse who exists only to make everyone around you completely miserable.” The cold, biting contempt of that exact same silver-haired boy stung her heart even now, leaving a bitter ache in her chest.
“Your Ladyship...”
“Your Ladyship...”
“Your Ladyship...!”
Francesca woke up with a sudden start, shaken gently by one of the remaining maids in the dining room. “It is getting late, your Ladyship... The kitchen staff’s shift is ending soon, and it would be much better for you to retire to your chambers.”
Francesca nodded dazedly, gripping the handle of her cane to pull herself up. “I really managed to doze off right in my seat, huh...”
Forcing a faint smile for the maid, she began walking down the dimly lit corridor, relying heavily on the support of her cane. Stella must have already headed home for the night... she muttered to herself as she moved along the quiet stone path.
“♪ Like everything in this world has lost its light... ♪”
Francesca suddenly froze. The faint, melodic chords of a guitar and a soft, melancholic singing voice carried over from the nearby terrace.
Slowly turning her steps toward the sound, she pushed the heavy terrace door open. Standing in the crisp winter air, her expression a fragile mixture of a soft smile and a deeply pained ache, she spoke into the moonlight.
“I thought I would find you up here... You still sing for her on full moon nights, don't you?”