Chapter 76
The Road That Cannot Be Returned To

“I heard about Mr. Remmer.”

The long silence was broken first by Kyle.

“Mm.”

Layla still stared down at the edge of the table, her reply short and quiet.

Kyle studied her more closely, his gaze deepening. Since they’d entered the café and sat across from each other, she hadn’t once looked at him.

“I’m sorry, Layla.”

“…Why you?”

At his heavy words of apology, Layla finally raised her head. Behind her glasses, her eyes were full of bewilderment. Seeing that shine again made Kyle feel relief, as though he’d finally found the real Layla before him.

“For not being any help. For not knowing what was happening and just sending those foolish letters over and over.”

“No, Kyle. Don’t say that. You did nothing wrong. This isn’t about you—it’s between Uncle and me.”

Layla shook her head firmly, the gesture decisive.

“It was just an unfortunate accident. It’s all… settled now.”

“Settled? You’re really all right?”

“Yes.”

She lowered her lashes again. The cuffs of her sweater, tugged down and down, now covered the backs of her hands.

“If something’s going on, tell me honestly, Layla. I’ll help you. I’ll do anything to help.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

“Because you don’t look all right. Not at all.”

Kyle’s voice tightened with urgency. Layla froze mid-motion, her hands disappearing under the table. Her breath came slow and heavy.

“Layla, don’t I know you?”

Now Kyle was sure. His uneasy hunch had been right. Seeing her up close, she was even less like herself.

Mr. Remmer had loved her, yes, but he wasn’t delicate enough to notice everything she left unsaid. And Layla… Layla was foolishly good at hiding her heart. Too proud, too stubborn to admit she hurt, too hesitant to reach out and ask for help.

That was when Kyle had made it a habit to watch her more carefully. The brighter she smiled, the more deeply he looked. Of course, Layla was better at hiding than he was at finding. But even so, he could always sense faint hints. Like now.

“Tell me, Layla. Please. Months of ignoring my letters, and now this coldness—this isn’t you.”

“People change, Kyle.”

She opened her eyes again, meeting his gaze head-on. Her calm expression carried a cool edge, almost cold.

“Just because I’m not the same girl you remember doesn’t mean this isn’t me. This is who I am now.”

“In only two seasons? You, of all people?”

“It hasn’t been so short a time as you think. And besides—we can never be the same as before.”

“Layla!”

“Not answering your letters—that was my answer. Kyle, we’re finished. Nothing can be undone now. Nothing.”

Looking straight at him, she drove each word like a nail.

“I don’t love you anymore. Even if Mrs. Etman gave her blessing, I don’t want it. And the thought of running away with you, leaving home behind to marry… I can’t even imagine it.”

She rose from her seat, leaving Kyle stunned.

“I never wanted to say this to you. I wanted our friendship to remain a precious memory, so I avoided replying at all. But… this is where we’ve ended up.”

“Don’t lie. How could you…”

“This is the only answer I can give you. So if you care about me at all, please—let’s never see each other again. I don’t even want our names spoken together anymore. Please, Kyle.”

Kyle felt as if he were dreaming with his eyes open. By the time his thoughts snapped back, the bell above the door was chiming.

“Wait! Layla!”

He rushed out just as she was about to mount her bicycle. Grabbing her shoulder, he turned her toward him. Her eyes were already red, brimming with tears. That was why. He couldn’t say another word. She looked so fragile—like a cracked pane of glass—that one more push might shatter her completely.

Shaking off his hand, Layla mounted her bicycle and rode off down the road. Kyle stood there long after she’d disappeared from sight.

He was certain now: something had happened. And whatever it was, he would find it out.

“Well. This is quite the mess, isn’t it?”

Riette spoke as though amused, gazing around the half-ruined greenhouse. Claudine shot him a glare, but he only chuckled under his breath.

“To laugh in the face of such tragedy… I didn’t know my brother could be so heartless.”

“I’m only astonished. Who could have guessed? That paradise of Arvis, reduced to this in a single day.”

Riette’s eyes swept over the place.

Once, it had been a flawless vision of Eden. Now it was barren, a wasteland. Beds of earth, stripped of their frozen, dead plants, gaped like craters after a bombing.

“And to pardon the gardener who caused this, allowing him to keep his position? Truly fitting of a house so respected across the Empire.”

“Perhaps his mistress serves him well enough to earn such mercy.”

“You, Lady Brandt? Speaking words like that?”

Riette’s eyes widened in mild surprise. Claudine pressed her lips tight, then quickly composed herself again.

“Forgive me, brother. That was careless.”

“No need. I rather enjoyed it. The jealous Lady Brandt—how refreshingly human you sound.”

“Jealous? Hah…”

Claudine shook her head, leaving the greenhouse ahead of him.

She’d brought Riette here hoping for comfort, perhaps even a little indulgence. Instead, he only teased. And yet the strangest thing was that his mockery had comforted her all the same.

The two made their way toward the small drawing room where a tea service awaited. The rest of the family was gathered there, everyone but the Duke, and the atmosphere was lively and warm.

Claudine and Riette played their parts. The Duke’s fiancée and the Duke’s cousin, smiling, flawless, fitting neatly into place.

Now and then, their eyes met across the table, and Claudine found herself wondering: What if my parents had chosen Lindmann instead of Herhardt? But even then, she knew. Their decision had been right.

The world was changing fast, and the noble houses of old would be the ones most mercilessly tested. But the Brandts, one of the Empire’s great banking families, had sharp eyes for the currents of change. And so did Claudine. Though she’d never been formally trained as an heir, she’d learned much through instinct and observation.

And so—it had to be Herhardt.

Names that once shone brilliantly would be swept away by the tide of transformation. But Herhardt would endure. Herhardt would thrive in the new age. Claudine’s future lay in that name. A glory not of the past, but of the eternal present.

“By Claudine’s wedding, the greenhouse must be restored.”

Conversation had drifted to her upcoming marriage next summer.

Amid approving smiles, Claudine lowered her gaze with modest shyness. When she looked up again, Riette’s soft brown eyes met hers—playful, gentle. She had always liked that gaze. Since childhood. Perhaps always.

But they had come too far to turn back.

Smiling faintly, Claudine straightened her posture. She would not look back. She would not regret. Her future had to unfold exactly as planned, complete and unblemished, in exchange for the happiness she had given up.

After her wedding was discussed, the topic naturally shifted to Riette von Lindmann’s own marriage prospects. Claudine knew the lady in question—born of a fine family, beautiful and kind. A good match.

Later, Claudine excused herself with a feigned headache and returned to her guest room. Alone by the fire, she stared into the flames.

Layla Llewellyn, as she remembered her, was clever—and proud, far prouder than her station allowed. Such a woman could never remain hidden forever in a man’s shadow as a mistress. In time, she would vanish on her own.

But there was always the danger of what if.

Claudine would never face such a risk unguarded. She’d decided that firmly.

Just then, her maid returned with the medicine. Hurrying across the room, the girl tripped on the edge of the carpet and fell hard. A clatter of tray, glass, and bottle rang out along with her cry.

“Are you hurt?”

Claudine frowned as she approached. The maid scrambled to her feet, face scarlet.

“N-no, my lady! Forgive me, I’m so sorry!”

“You don’t look unhurt to me.”

Claudine’s eyes settled on the girl’s hand. A shard of glass had cut across her skin, blood welling.

“It’s nothing. Just a scratch. I’ll be fine, my lady—”

“No.”

Claudine cut her off with a smile.

“You’ve injured your right hand. You can’t attend me like this.”

“My lady, this really isn’t—”

“Isn’t that so, Marie?”

“…Yes. Yes, my lady.”

The maid bowed her head quickly. Marie had served Claudine faithfully since childhood, loyal and discreet, always her shadow.

Before long, Marie’s hand was bandaged. Together, they returned to the parlor where Elise von Herhardt and the other ladies were chatting. As Claudine expected, Elise’s reaction was immediate.

“Oh dear, Claudine, how inconvenient. We’ll assign you one of our maids for the time being.”

“No, please. With all of Arvis in chaos preparing for the Crown Prince, I couldn’t take away anyone’s hands.”

Elise’s eyes widened.

“But Claudine, a young lady must have an attendant. We wouldn’t rest easy otherwise.”

“In that case… might I ask for Layla?”

“Layla? You mean the gardener’s foster daughter?”

“Yes. We’ve known each other since childhood, and she has time during the school holidays. If you would allow it, I’d like to keep her by me for a few days.”

Countess Brandt’s eyes flashed disapproval, but Claudine went on politely.

“She needn’t serve in every duty. Only to help Marie in small ways while her hand heals. To be honest, I’d simply like her company.”

“Well… since she’s been close to you since childhood, perhaps she is the most suitable.”

Elise nodded and rang the bell.

“Fetch Layla for us.”