Chapter 72

Valentin looked around. Her real guests wouldn’t arrive for at least five more minutes.

The servants were all busy with the final preparations for the party, and Nellusion was supposed to come from the student council room…

If she had anything to say, now was the time. Confirming that no one could overhear her conversation with Nerys, Valentin hissed,

“You’d better behave while I’m being generous. Don’t overstep.”

Nerys smiled gently.

“Oh Valentin, when have you ever been generous with me?”

Thirty-year-old Nerys had once begged to be forgotten now that she was no longer of use. Pleaded, at the very least, to be allowed to run away. But even that had been too much for those cruel people, who said they had to confirm her death because it was too hard to look at what remained of her.

Since returning to her twelve-year-old self and beginning a new life, Nerys had come to realize she should’ve done the same.

There was no need to be generous. In front of people like these, who tried to take everything the moment they saw a sliver of weakness.

She had done countless terrible things to others already. Nerys knew very well that when she set her mind to someone’s ruin, she spared no means.

So why should she hesitate with people who, even in ignorance, tried to destroy her again?

In that sense, it could be said that now, finally, she had returned.

To her stage.

Driving a wedge between Valentin and Megara so they couldn’t join forces.

Moving Nellusion so Valentin wouldn’t dare act carelessly.

All of it had been part of Nerys’s calculations.

Valentin couldn’t understand Nerys’s meaningful smile. She simply thought Nerys was mocking her.

Grinding her teeth and ready to lash out, Valentin turned away sharply instead, realizing that no matter what she said, Nerys’s calm expression wouldn’t falter.

Moments later, a footman approached and bowed to Valentin.

“Milady, the Grunehals family has arrived.”

“Got it. Bring them in.”

Valentin replied sulkily and headed for the drawing room.

Nerys followed her, and before Valentin could offer her a seat, she sat in the innermost of the luxurious chairs placed in the drawing room.

According to Bistor customs, invited guests usually sat on long sofas for two or more people, while the host sat on a single-seat chair.

Nerys had chosen the finest of the host’s single-seat chairs.

‘Did she just take the seat of honor? Does she not know her place?’

Valentin growled, annoyed.

“That’s my seat. I guess you wouldn’t know, since you’ve never hosted important guests before.”

“Oh, our little Valen must still be in her first year if she doesn’t know this.”

Nerys used the exact same phrasing as Valentin, but her tone was much calmer—making it feel even more humiliating for Valentin.

Her lovely silver eyebrows shot up in fury.

“What did you say?”

“Welcoming guests together means I’m being recognized as part of the family. Since I’m older than you, it’s only right I take the seat of honor.”

Technically, Nerys wasn’t wrong. In parties, the ones who received guests alongside the host were considered close family, and in such cases, age often dictated who was treated with greater respect.

However… that etiquette only applied in ‘normal’ circumstances.

If a high-ranking noble hosted a party and chose someone outside the direct family to greet guests with them, that ‘someone’ was typically a legal family member.

At the very least, a future wife, daughter-in-law, or son-in-law.

What noble in their right mind would seat a distant relative of practically commoner status in the seat of honor and act like they were family?

Valentin was boiling with rage and embarrassment. But before she could erupt and hurl abuse at Nerys, the first guest entered the drawing room.

“Valentin.”

Since she had come not as a student council secretary but as a noble, Natasha Grunehals called out to Valentin in a familiar tone. Valentin quickly composed herself and smiled sweetly.

“Welcome, Sister Natasha. And Brother Eustace.”

Natasha’s younger brother, Eustace, wasn’t as dazzlingly beautiful as his sister but was still a decently handsome boy. With poise, he followed his sister and bowed politely to Valentin.

“Miss Valentin.”

“And over there?”

Natasha glanced toward Nerys, who was seated in the place of honor, and gave a curious smile. Nerys smiled back without a hint of concern.

“Thank you for coming, senior.”

With her fluent speech and relaxed demeanor, Nerys appeared more like the true host of the party than Valentin herself.

Natasha could guess the situation. It seemed Nellusion had pulled some strings. That blond brat was really fond of her.

Well, scenes like this were always amusing. Since it had nothing to do with her, Natasha decided to simply enjoy the show.

“Nice seeing you here.”

Valentin could already feel her stomach turning for the rest of the party as she discreetly glared at Nerys from behind the Grunehals siblings’ backs.

* * *

The quiet library felt like a different world.

The start of a new school year was always noisy. It was early autumn, a season as beautiful as heaven, and the students, not yet buried in assignments and exams, roamed the campus.

They filled the courtyards with loud chatter, recounting the joys of their recent vacations. But even their high-pitched laughter sounded distant, like waves on a far-off sea, inside the book-lined library.

‘The sea.’

Cledwyn found it amusing that he had thought of such a metaphor.

The vast land of Maindulante bordered the cold northern sea. Yet the first time he, heir to that territory, had ever seen the ocean was about a month ago—when he went to hunt down those damned rebels.

Maindulante was nominally part of the Bistor Empire, but in reality, it functioned like a completely separate nation.

Due to its geographical position, foreign influence barely reached it, and by the time it was annexed into the empire, it already had an established internal system.

Among the vassal noble houses that had pledged loyalty to the Duke of Maindulante and governed parts of the duchy, some traced their lineage back nearly as far as the ducal line itself.

‘They’ve got pride, those bastards.’

So when the heir, who they thought they could control, tried to take the reins, the backlash was intense.

Toward the end of the former duke’s rule—Cledwyn’s father—the duchy was in disarray. The elders of the ducal house, used to unchecked power without a commanding figure, ran wild.

No one knew exactly when it started, but at some point, two of them conspired with Marquess Tipien—Cledwyn’s maternal grandfather—to carve up Maindulante for themselves.

Whether they made that decision early or late didn’t matter. The fact remained: traitors couldn’t be forgiven.

And since the two elders who had started the rebellion this summer held significant power, Cledwyn led only a few of his most trusted men to suppress the uprising.

The place where he was locked in a standoff with one of the rebels for over a week was a harbor on the northeastern border of Maindulante.

There, amidst fierce battle with enemies holed up in the castle, Cledwyn listened to the sound of the waves all day.

Relentless, like a heartbeat.

Fierce, like breathing.

At the time, he had been sick of the sea. But now, surrounded by the golden, timeworn dust of the library, the sea took on a different feel—like a painted landscape.

And Cledwyn knew exactly who had brought such a strange and new feeling into his world.

Behind a pillar on the fifth floor of the pharmacology library—a small spot hidden from view, which one had to search for intentionally not to be seen.

The moment the girl sitting there came into sight, everything in the world seemed to shift.

Even though this place was clearly his territory, the presence of Nerys Truydd felt oddly natural.

As if she had always sat there, reading or looking up at the sky.

So comfortable that one could fall asleep right there.

Her gently closed eyelids were smooth and ivory-toned. Her golden lashes, like sunlight, cast long, clear shadows on her cheeks.

Motionless soft cheeks and a petite, sharp nose hinted unmistakably that she would grow into a beauty.

Her platinum blonde hair, bright like the earliest sunlight of dawn, draped over her face like a curtain.

She really was asleep. Judging by the open book on her lap, she must’ve dozed off while reading.

Cledwyn didn’t have a habit of waking sleeping people. Normally, he would have quietly left. But for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off her face.

…Salvation.

A place where he belonged, tossed into a life with no time for amusement.

Perhaps it was because, while gazing at her face, Cledwyn unconsciously quieted his breathing. Or maybe it was the shadow he cast over the light that roused her.

Nerys slowly opened her eyes.

The face, so downy and soft in the sunlight, was suddenly filled with clarity and intellect. One of Cledwyn’s more excitable subordinates would’ve started rambling if he saw that—saying she was no ordinary child.

But what did it matter if she wasn’t ordinary?

Cledwyn wanted something not ordinary. In this boring and dogged life, the only things that could reach him were the strange and unusual.

“When did you get here?”

Her eyes were sharp, but her voice was still faintly hoarse from sleep. Cledwyn chuckled.

“Just now.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Nerys gave him a mild glare. But if he said he had just arrived, there was nothing she could say. Cledwyn sat down on the floor and looked up at her.

Thinking that this position had become far too familiar, Nerys brought up the reason she had waited for him here today.

She had thought through many ways to say it, but in the end, nothing seemed quite right. The words came out casually, almost thrown.

“Protect my mother.”

Cledwyn paused.

Nerys was aware she might have spoken rashly. She couldn’t trust anyone. She shouldn’t trust anyone.

What had those she trusted done to her? How thoroughly they had betrayed her…

But even after all those betrayals, she had come to understand one thing.

Somewhere out there, there were people she didn’t need to hate.

In the past and now, there were those who were noble in spirit, who believed in others, and despite facing grave threats as a result, remained sincere.

Diane, who nearly died at the hands of her own family but still gave affection to her friends.

And Cledwyn, who also nearly died by his family’s hand, yet was willing to offer everything to a subordinate who had done nothing for him.

They were, perhaps, just a little… different.

Nerys thought it had now been exactly one year since she met Cledwyn.

In her previous life, she had known him, and he probably knew her—but it was no different than a person claiming to know the sun.

They had no idea what each other lived for.

Over the past year, he had shared jokes with her, helped her, received help from her, yet never once strayed from his principles.

He was nothing like the cruel monster Abelus described him as, nor like the distant impression people often had of him.

That’s why… she wanted to believe it was okay to say something like this.

– ‘You’ll be betrayed again.’

The sudden voice made Nerys freeze. Even though it was a secret place with only her and Cledwyn, a voice rang in her ear from somewhere.

A voice full of venom and curses. Thinking about whose voice it was, she soon realized—

– ‘You’ll be torn apart. Even after paying such a brutal price, you dared to trust again! You’ll be punished for such foolishness!’

It wasn’t a curse. It was despair.

It was the voice of thirty-year-old Nerys. A voice that existed only within her heart.