Bertia, gazing downward, failed to notice my expression. The phrase “growing tired” was all too familiar to me. Whether regarding objects or people, I became bored easily. Even things I once found somewhat interesting or enjoyable quickly turned dull as they failed to meet my expectations, making them lose their appeal.
Once that occurred, my enthusiasm would fade as quickly as it had appeared, and even things that once felt unique would seem indistinguishable from a stone by the road. I had experienced it many times before. Yet, for the first time, I truly felt the fear of being “used up.”
Due to my deep familiarity with ennui, I could readily sense when others grew “weary” of something. That sharp foresight seized my heart like a claw and sent a shiver through me.
… No, what ridiculous thoughts am I entertaining?
Her eyes mourned the idea of parting from me—of being hurt by me. Her hand, tightly gripping mine as though holding on for dear life, revealed her genuine emotions. Though her words indicated the opposite, her entire presence radiated love for me.
It was impossible to mistake such an overwhelming surge of emotion.
—It seemed impossible, yet my heart was uneasy despite my mind’s reasoning. There was a nearly invisible “possibility,” and the mere fact that it wasn’t zero terrified me.
When I asked if she had grown tired of yellow, Bertia hesitated before responding, “I love yellow… especially a soothing, milky tea-like shade. And I also adore the clear, night-sky blue.”
With one hand, she gently caressed her dress and the necklace hanging around her neck. The dress matched the color of my hair, while the necklace—given to her by me—held a liquid resembling the color of my eyes, encased in a glass vial adorned with an ivy design.
Ah, she still…
As soon as I instinctively let go of the breath I had been holding—
“But that’s exactly why I don’t want to wear them at the event. I don’t want to tarnish those precious colors… Colors filled with cherished memories… I don’t want them to be overshadowed by sadness.”
—A chill ran deep into my stomach.
A question surfaced in my mind.
… Why are you so stubbornly trying to distance yourself from me?
I brought her hand, which was tracing the necklace, nearer and laid it over my other hand. Then, softly enveloping both her hands in mine, I spoke with careful tenderness.
“Hey, Tia. If it makes you so sad, why don’t we just end this ‘defeat’ event?”
She glanced back at me, surprised, her eyes trembling with disturbance. Nevertheless, the determination deep within those eyes showed no signs of wavering.
“I can’t do that because I want you, Lord Cecil, to be content as well. I wish for everyone else to find happiness too.”
“If you think that, why do you believe we can’t find happiness unless we achieve this ‘defeat’? Can you explain?”
Despite Bertia’s strong academic skills, her ability to scheme or devise plans was alarmingly poor. Any strategies she formulates were usually so simplistic that they hardly qualify as strategies. In terms of capability, she could be seen as rather foolish.
Fortunately, she is surrounded by supportive people and enjoys a good reputation. This leads me to believe that with my consistent support, she could effectively navigate her future role as queen. If only she would share the information she’s keeping to herself, I would be able to help her.
Sadly, Bertia remained stubbornly silent. That’s why I decided not to press her. Spending time on unproductive efforts was wasteful, and I thought it best to concentrate on what I could handle.
… But for some reason, I can’t hold back my impulse right now.
“Even if the only solution you have discovered is to confront ‘defeat,’ maybe we can uncover a better option together, right?” Before I realized it, I had posed this question to her.
The chances of her discussing this issue were very slim. Nevertheless, a strong desire for her to trust me and share her thoughts grew within me. While I can think logically, my emotions disrupted my reasoning.
Ah, how foolish. How completely foolish. Have I unknowingly embraced some of Bertia’s silliness?
Bertia reacted promptly to my inquiry, her lips parting. “That’s not possible because…”
She started to speak but then suddenly clamped her mouth shut.
“Why?” I asked softly, leaning closer to inspire her to elaborate, clinging to a glimmer of hope.
… But as expected, my wish stayed unfulfilled.
Bertia’s voice trembled with genuine emotion. “I care deeply for everyone here. That’s why I want to protect them from harm. The only ones who deserve to suffer are my father, who has done wrong, and myself.”
Crimes? He hasn’t actually committed any, though. I nearly let that slip but held back. Bertia mistakenly believes her father is engaged in corruption, but in truth, he is gathering intelligence on corrupt nobles. He is overseeing Kulgan, who has penetrated the Uradil family.
Disclosing this may put them at risk, particularly because Bertia lacks any skill in deception or subterfuge. This is information I need to keep to myself for the time being.
Still, why does she appear so troubled? After all, she was the one who urged the Marquis of Noches to take this dark path, wasn’t she? Asserting it was essential for the “otome game” scenario. If it causes her such distress, she shouldn’t have advocated for it.
“Do you feel remorse for encouraging the Marquis of Noches down this ominous path?” I couldn’t help but inquire.
Bertia shook her head. “No, I don’t. It was essential. Without it, a far worse future awaited. It’s an inescapable fate!” Her fists tightened, reinforcing her determination.