Chapter 6
Clarissa pressed her lips tightly together. God was truly fair—damnably so.
Her mind began to race.
If she forced the engagement to go ahead in this state, her relationship with Aryan would remain twisted and strained forever.
Aryan kept flicking his anxious gaze back and forth between Clarissa’s cheek and the tops of his own shoes.
For no reason at all, Clarissa felt as though even the tips of her fingers hurt, and she pressed down hard on her innocent fingers.
“I’m sorry. I think I’ve only been thinking about myself this whole time.”
Clarissa lowered her long eyelashes slightly.
The gentle morning sunlight cast thin shadows across her cheeks.
“I’m sorry for always doing only the things you dislike, Aryan.”
“I don’t dis—!”
“Ah, it’s all right. I’ve grown up a little now.”
“That’s n—”
At Clarissa’s self-reproachful words, Aryan jumped up.
He had to say it wasn’t true—but as always, it was hard for him to speak properly.
Moisture gathered at the corners of Aryan’s eyes.
If I cry, Clarissa might hate it.
She might look at him again with those tired, fed-up eyes.
His heart grew restless.
It seemed the countess’s scolding—telling him that every word he said only angered people—had been entirely correct.
Overwhelmed by anxiety, Aryan’s hand jerked forward onto the table.
The fingertips that had wanted to reach Clarissa stopped short, resting awkwardly on the tabletop.
Above them, birds welcomed the morning with song.
Unlike his mood, which felt as though it were sinking into deep water, the sound was refreshingly bright.
As the birdsong faded, Clarissa’s long, white hand came to rest atop Aryan’s hand, which looked a little large for his frame.
In the span of a few days, this was the fourth time their hands had met.
While Aryan always hesitated, Clarissa confidently led his hand each time.
The thought made Aryan inexplicably happy, and he blinked several times in quick succession. It felt as though breathing itself had become difficult.
He held his breath for a moment and stared at Clarissa’s lovely fingers.
After today… she won’t hold my hand anymore, will she?
In his panic, he had made Clarissa misunderstand.
In truth, her question had been wrong from the very premise. There was no need to talk about liking or disliking.
What mattered most to Aryan was whether he was needed by Clarissa—or not.
While Aryan was tearing himself apart with such thoughts, Clarissa opened her mouth in a sweet voice.
“Won’t you give me a chance to make it up to you?”
“M-make it up…?”
“Yes!”
Wasn’t she upset?
As Aryan tilted his head in confusion, Clarissa gave him a smile whose meaning he couldn’t read.
That smile resembled both a priest praying to God and a merchant measuring his purse before a major deal.
Two utterly different images overlapped on her face.
As that smile etched itself deeply into Aryan’s mind, Clarissa parted her red lips once more.
“Shall we… start as friends first?”
One leisurely noon,
three people with completely different airs sat facing one another in the reception room of Marquis Vestas von Lisette.
The man with the most solemn expression spoke first.
“So, you have something to say about Clarissa?”
He was the master of the marquisate and the great chancellor of the Asgard Empire—Marquis Vestas von Lisette.
“And what kind of trouble has she caused this time? She didn’t get hurt, did she?”
The woman speaking sternly yet anxiously, with a delicate expression, was the rising powerhouse of high society, Marchioness Eclea von Lisette.
And seated before the two people who possessed power and wealth unrivaled not only in this household but throughout the empire, wearing an extremely serious expression, was—
“Hmm? Marie, go on and tell us.”
—the beautiful flower of the Lisette household and its one and only rascal, Clarissa’s sole confidante maid.
“Y-yes…”
Marie clasped her hands tightly together, unaware that her neck was bending inward. Her lips dried out, and blood rushed repeatedly to her eyes.
“Lady Clarissa is…”
Gulp. At Marie’s unsteady voice, the others swallowed reflexively.
“Lady Clarissa has…”
In the end, Marie couldn’t finish her sentence and began shedding clear tears one after another.
Anyone watching might have thought she was frightened by the couple’s intensity, but the truth was entirely different.
“Marie! What has Clarissa done again?”
“Hurry up and tell us!”
Seeing Marie with her head bowed, Eclea’s eyes reddened as well.
Unable to bear it any longer, even Vestas began trembling, raising his voice urgently.
“Lady Clarissa is acting strangely!”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Marie blurted out the words in a rush, shocking everyone present.
The summary of events that Marie presented as proof of Clarissa’s strange condition went as follows.
It all began a week ago—on the day after Clarissa brought back young Lord Aryan, with whom she had declared the engagement broken just the day before.
“A healthy body!”
It was early dawn when Marie woke to a bizarre shout coming from outside the window.
Rubbing her still-sleepy eyes, she opened the window—and immediately began doubting her own sanity.
“In a healthy body, a healthy mind!”
There stood her mistress, who normally slept an average of fourteen hours a day, shouting while making strange movements.
Have I been too tired lately?
A sharp pain stabbed through her head.
Marie hurriedly threw herself back onto the bed. Even after pulling the blanket over her head, it felt as though Clarissa’s voice still echoed in her ears.
“A healthy body! A healthy mind!”
In the end, Marie couldn’t get even a wink of sleep.
“Oh, Marie, you’re here?”
Marie’s bizarre day didn’t end there.
With swollen eyes, she was on her way to wake Clarissa when she spotted her young mistress—who absolutely should not have been there—right before her eyes.
“I was just about to call for you, so this works out.”
As Marie pinched her own cheek hard, wondering if she was still dreaming, Clarissa thrust something heavy-looking toward her.
It looked exactly like a jewelry box…
“Get rid of this.”
Marie’s eyes flew open.
She stared dumbly at the small girl before her and the jewelry box in her hands.
“What’s wrong? Why are you just standing there? My arm’s starting to hurt.”
“Ah! I-I’m sorry!”
Snapping to attention at the sharp rebuke, Marie hastily accepted the box and peeked inside.
Within lay an exquisitely cut, eye-shaped gem: a deep aquamarine set alongside a one-hundred-carat diamond.
“This is—!”
Marie cried out in shock.
“It’s your favorite, Lady Clarissa!”
“I’m sick of it. Sell it and bring back the money. Take one-tenth of it here.”
Dazed, Marie accepted the document that was handed to her along with it.
“What… Asello Orphan—an orphanage?”
“Is there a problem?”
Yes. A very big one.
The Clarissa von Lisette who wouldn’t even give leftover food to others was now planning to donate one-tenth of a one-hundred-carat diamond to an orphanage. Even if the world turned upside down and split in half, such a thing should have been impossible.
Meanwhile, the Clarissa who had caused such an enormous shock looked at Marie with perfectly ordinary eyes.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you going?”
Marie wanted to drop to her knees and beg Clarissa to explain what on earth was going on.
But pressed by Clarissa’s repeated urging, she swallowed her tears and moved to carry out the task entrusted to her.
If Clarissa’s bizarre behavior had ended there, it might have been bearable.
On her way back after safely completing the errand, Marie saw the kitchen maids hopping anxiously outside, like puppies desperate to relieve themselves.
“What are you all doing here?”
“W-well…”
One of the maids trailed off. A chill ran down Marie’s spine.
Her nose caught a sharp, acrid smell.
“Lady Clarissa is—”
Before the maid could finish her sentence, Marie dashed straight into the kitchen.