Chapter Eight

When I awoke, Lord Simeon was no longer beside me, but the fireplace burned brightly, warming the
entire room.

I rang the bell and a serving girl appeared right away and provided me with tea. I drank it while still in
bed as she arranged the room, which included filling the wash basin with hot water. When I finished the
tea, I rose from my bed and washed my face. All in all, it was a perfectly refined way to start a new day. I
could almost believe that the events of the previous night had been no more than a dream.

But they had been quite real, of course. And if it was a dream, I shall have to run to Lord Simeon this
very instant and make it real!

I writhed in delicious agony as I recalled some of the finer details. Putting aside the first half of our time
together, the second half was so sweet, so precious, that it was almost beyond words. That passionate
kiss would be etched vividly into my memory forever. It would never fade as long as I lived. To think that
Lord Simeon would do such a thing. He was always so polished, so reserved, so formal. Even when he
grew irritated with me, his behavior had always been physically restrained. And yet, last night he
exploded with such violent passion. My goodness, it’s simply too much for me! He really is like the love
interest in a story! My very own romantic hero!

It was still morning, but I wished to scream dramatically into the sunset. Lord Simeon, I love you! I love
you so very much!

“Excuse me, my lady, but is...something the matter?”

Having finished dressing me, the serving girl had taken a large step back. She wore a look of fear on her
face. Her words made me return to my senses, and I hurried to put a sufficiently prim and proper smile
on my face. “Oh, no,” I stammered. “I see now that you’ve finished. You’ve done an exemplary job.
Thank you so much.”

Relief washed over her face upon hearing my expression of gratitude. She must have been worried that I
was displeased with her, that perhaps she’d spoiled my good humor.

That’s all, I’m sure.

Today I was being attended to very considerately indeed. No doubt Lord Simeon had said something on
my behalf. There would never have been any admission that I was intentionally being mistreated, of
course. It was plausible enough that the servants had simply been negligent in their duties. I felt sorry
for the servants, who had likely been blamed for my mistreatment when they bore no responsibility for
it. The servants had treated me with respect, at least—unlike the heads of the household.

Suspecting that she might harbor some guilt over my treatment thus far, I produced a box of chocolates
from my suitcase and handed it to her, with a suggestion that she quietly share it with her colleagues
where no one could see. The chocolates had been intended as a present for Marchioness Bernadette,
but I suspected that she would not be entirely eager to receive them anyway. It would be a waste to
give her a gift only for it to be thrown away out of spite, so I felt it was better to give it to someone who
would appreciate it.
After eating breakfast in my room, I decided to go and find Lord Simeon. I expected he was either still in
his own room or in the company of His Highness.

Since Lord Simeon and I had spent much of the previous night resolving the misunderstanding between
us, there had been no time to discuss anything else. I still had to tell him about Lady Michelle’s
clandestine meeting and relay what I’d learned about Lutin.

But all thought of this left my mind as soon as I stepped out into the corridor, where I heard a shrill cry
from downstairs. “Somebody! Anybody! You must hurry! It’s my lady, she...!”

The words made it clear in an instant that something serious had happened. But who does “my lady”
refer to? Is it Lady Michelle?

A disquieting chill came over my whole body. Overwhelmed with fear about what might have happened,
I rushed down the staircase toward the source of the commotion. A crowd had gathered, made up of
people who worked in the kitchen and laundry room.

At the center of them, screaming, was an elderly womanservant. “Please, someone, help her! My lady
fell in the pond! She’s sure to die! Hurry, save her!”

The men of the assembled crowd ran straight outside, aside from the butler, who ran up to the second
floor to inform the marquess. The female servants looked at one another, faces filled with terror. I ran
out through the front door as well, sensing that the crowd behind me was growing ever larger as more
people arrived.

The pond? Does she mean the pond I happened upon yesterday? I don’t recall seeing any other ponds
nearby. But...how could Lady Michelle have fallen in? What’s going on?

The words I’d heard from the butler yesterday, and from Lady Michelle herself before that, rang in my
ears. I’d been told that the pond was highly dangerous. That if anyone fell in, it would be impossible to
rescue them. And she’s... That’s where she’s... Oh, please, let them get to her in time. Please, God, save
her!

I ran like the wind, slipping occasionally on the snow-covered paths. I had left while still wearing my
decorative low-cut shoes, so my feet were soaked in an instant, but this was no time to let the cold stop
me. The hem of my dress became thoroughly soiled as I retraced my path from the day before, running
across the very same small bridge.

Gathered on the bank of the pond was a collection of servants from the manor and other residents of
the surrounding area. Many of them were pointing, and all to the same spot near the center of the
pond. There, the frozen surface of the water had cracked open, forming an ominous gaping maw.

When I saw the feminine shawl lying near the hole, all color drained from my face.

She...fell in there? Lady Michelle is under there...? That can’t be true. It can’t. How could this have
happened? If she...fell in there, then it means...

Even if she hadn’t immediately lost consciousness—and if she had then somehow managed to rise to
the surface—she’d have collided with the ice above her head. There’d have been no way for her to get
her face above the surface of the water. The frigid water would have quickly sapped all strength from
her limbs, and her waterlogged dress would have weighed her down like a stone, dragging her into the
murky depths of the water.

I stood silent. Imagining that scene made me feel as if I myself was drowning. I clutched my chest as
ragged breaths fought their way in and out of my lungs. My heart throbbed painfully. I couldn’t stop it.
Just as all strength drained from my legs and I was about to collapse onto the ground, a pair of strong
hands came from behind to support me.

Lord Simeon had arrived. So had the other knights, and His Highness. All of them looked at the pond
with expressions that spoke of sheer disbelief.

“Lord Simeon,” I uttered.

Still holding me tight, Lord Simeon turned his intense gaze toward the middle of the pond. Two villagers
had been taking a few gingerly steps across the surface of the ice, testing whether it might not be
possible to reach the hole, but one quickly cried out, “No use! It’s too dangerous, there’s no way we can
get any further than this!” New cracks began to form beneath their feet as they rushed back to safety.

The ice was much more fragile than it appeared. No matter how determined the rescue effort might be,
it wouldn’t be possible to walk to the center of the pond.

The pair exchanged ideas.

“I suppose the ice has thinned out because the weather’s been so good these past few days...”

“Maybe it would be better to break the whole lot and get there on a boat?”

“That won’t work. The broken ice would get in the way so much, you’d be stranded partway. You
wouldn’t be able to get any closer to the middle or get back to shore.”

“Sad as it is, there’s no use attempting the impossible...”

A lone figure staggered past both us and the two villagers. As His Highness approached perilously close
to the pond, the knights gave chase and caught him.

“Your Highness!”

“You mustn’t, it’s dangerous!”

With a dazed expression, His Highness shook off the arms that held him back. “Un... unhand me...”

“We cannot. Please, you must be patient.”

“Unhand me!”

His Highness’s voice sounded hollow. He didn’t even look at the knights, but stared blankly at the hole in
the ice. The knights applied all their efforts to pull His Highness back, their faces distorted by the strain.

“Forgive us, please. Walking onto the ice would be suicide. You mustn’t get any closer.”

His Highness struggled for breath, as if he wished to speak but the words were trapped.
I was in much the same state. Instead of words, tears began to emerge. Can nothing be done? Is there
really no one who can save Lady Michelle? It felt deeply unfair, so much so that my whole body
trembled. As I began to sob convulsively, Lord Simeon held me even tighter.

At that moment, two more people ran over from the direction of the manor: Marquess Montagnier and
his butler. The marquess, too, had an entirely different expression than usual. He appeared to have lost
all presence of mind. He puffed and panted, gasping for breath as he ran, not even noticing His
Highness’s presence as he began to kick up an immense fuss. “What the devil are you all doing!? Go and
save Michelle! Now!”

The servants glanced uneasily at one another, unsure of how to respond to this command. The
marquess thrust at them, trying to push them toward the pond.

“My lord!” said the butler beside him.

“You must rescue her! Don’t just stand there! What in the hell are you waiting for!? Get Michelle out of
there right now!”

“Please, my lord, restrain yourself!”

The pleas did not register. The marquess laid hands on the butler, too, attempting to force him in the
direction of the pond.

The villagers scattered, afraid of getting mixed up in this any further.

“Hurry! You must save Michelle! I can’t lose this, not now! This golden opportunity was finally in my
grasp, but if Michelle dies now... You must save her! Whatever it takes!”

He was interrupted at last by a soft voice. “Marquess, stop.”

His Highness’s vacant expression from mere moments ago was gone. Perhaps he’d regained his senses
amid all the commotion. Instead, his hand was balled into a fist so tight it looked as though he might
squeeze blood from it. His Highness appeared to be making a strenuous effort to control the expression
on his sallow face.

The marquess turned around suddenly. Upon realizing at last that His Highness was present, he grew
even more flustered. “Y-your Highness, I...”

“I understand that you’re upset, but no one can step onto the ice. We simply do not know where or
when it will break underfoot. We cannot risk any further victims arising from the rescue attempt. Which
means...we have no choice but to give up.”

His voice trembled despite his efforts to keep it steady. He could not prevent the pain and regret from
seeping into every word. I’m sure that if there was any hope at all, he’d be jumping into the pond right
now. But it was clear as day to all present that there was no point in attempting a rescue.

And that, even if one were to be attempted, it was probably too late.

I was sure His Highness wished he could react like the marquess, raving indiscriminately. But alas, the
crown prince was not in a position to be seen in such a state, so he fought his hardest to contain his
emotions. That powerful sense of self-restraint was a credit to Lord Simeon’s closest friend and
master...and yet, at the same time, it was terribly painful to witness.

In contrast, the marquess had reached a condition where he was entirely unable to speak in a coherent
manner. With vacant eyes, he just repeated the same nonsense over and over again in a kind of
delirium. It was far from the haughty demeanor of a nobleman who proudly boasted of his family’s
history and lineage.

A heavy silence fell, broken only by the marquess’s ramblings, which flowed like an endless curse being
muttered. The dazzling morning sunlight only made this pathetic sight even more striking.

The old woman who had told everyone about the accident was Lady Michelle’s wet nurse, Agatha. She
always attended to Lady Michelle on her own, and today, too, she had apparently been accompanying
the young lady on a walk. Her face buried in her apron, her shoulders quivering, Agatha explained what
had happened to the assembled family and guests in the manor’s small salon.

“The wind blew her shawl onto the pond, you see. We agreed she’d have to simply accept that she’d lost
it, since it was too dangerous to try and retrieve it. At least, I thought she had agreed with me, but
perhaps she hadn’t after all. It was a memento of Lady Daniella, so I imagine she was determined to get
it back no matter what. We walked on, and then... Well, I only turned away briefly to pick some rose
hips, and by the time I looked up, she was gone. And then...it seemed too terrible to imagine, but I had
to go back to the pond and see...”

As Agatha spoke, the butler and housekeeper stood waiting by the walls with meek expressions, while
Lord Camille sat beside his mother, yawning. He had been sleeping until mere minutes earlier, and was
clearly displeased at having been roused against his will.

Sitting alone, apart from everyone else, was Lutin. He didn’t wear his usual smile, but he still gazed upon
the scene with eyes that suggested he found the latest development very interesting indeed. Noticing I
was looking at him, he gave me a furtive wink. I furrowed my brow and returned my attention to Agatha.

Agatha descended into wild sobbing as she finished her explanation. At that point, Marquess
Montagnier shouted with a trembling voice. “What in blazes were you doing!? You should have been
keeping an eye on her! And as soon as you realized what had happened, you should have jumped
straight into the pond to rescue her! It’s all for naught, all of it, and you’re the one to blame, you
useless...worthless...”

With bloodshot eyes, he raised his walking stick overhead. For an instant I felt a chill run through me,
but Lord Simeon immediately grabbed the stick and prevented the act of violence.

“Stop this at once. Hitting her won’t achieve anything.”

“Let me go! It’s this...this idiot’s fault that it’s all gone to waste! I’ve worked so hard, suffered through so
much, invested so much money...and now, thanks to this foolish woman, I...!”

Marchioness Bernadette puckered her face in response to her husband’s shameful behavior. She had
remained calm throughout, showing no hint of grief.
Shockingly, the only one visibly grieving as a result of Lady Michelle’s accident was Agatha. The young
lady’s mother, and her younger brother, looked as if they were hearing a story about someone they had
no connection to whatsoever. Even the marquess, who had entirely lost his composure, had not voiced
even one word of lamentation relating to the loss of Lady Michelle herself.

What is wrong with this family? Their daughter has suffered a terrible accident, and the circumstances
are quite hopeless, with no sign that rescue might be possible. How can they be so unfeeling?

“Dear,” interrupted Marchioness Bernadette, finally calling her husband to a halt as he continued to
berate Agatha. “Stop this at once and calm yourself. It’s thoroughly disgraceful to behave in such a
manner in front of His Highness the Crown Prince.”

“Oh!” he replied, sharp realization in his tone. In an instant, he went from berating an elderly woman to
obsequiously begging forgiveness. “My word, yes! Your Highness, please allow me to apologize
profusely for this incident. My daughter’s imprudent behavior has caused you such inconvenience...
Please, if there’s any way you can forgive me...”

The disgust that His Highness had been trying to suppress finally showed clearly on his face. Even so, he
spoke no words of censure and replied calmly. “It’s not a question of forgiving you or not. This is a tragic
accident, a source of great sorrow. No one is at fault, other than destiny, perhaps. I shall return to my
chamber to rest, and I suggest you do the same.”

His Highness rose, and the marquess followed hot on his heels. “Your Highness,” he stammered, “I beg
you, do not let this be cause for you to forsake me. I’m still assisting with