Chapter 32
“Haha.”
At last, she let out a soft laugh, a lightness breaking through her usually stoic demeanor. Her laugh signified agreement, as if acknowledging that the Count of Betrice was indeed such a person. But the amusement in her smile soon faded, her expression tightening, like one who had swallowed rough sand, and she lifted her glass of milk tea to her lips.
If she wouldn’t reveal anything about Persephone, then perhaps it was Adonis herself I wanted to understand.
She was a remarkable person, one whose position and rank made it beneficial to remain on good terms with.
“Why have you stayed silent?”
“Pardon?”
“There are even rumors that your swordsmanship skills surpass those of your father.”
The empire’s first female knight, and also its youngest royal guard. For her to enter the royal guard spoke volumes about her prowess, proving she was leagues beyond the average knight.
If Sir Adonis were to duel the Count of Betrice, I had no doubt she would emerge victorious.
“Because he is my father.”
It was a surprisingly sentimental and simple response.
Perhaps because I had once been discarded by those I had thought of as family—the ducal household—I found it difficult to understand what compelled Sir Adonis to endure so much for the sake of ‘family.’
Her father showed no concern for her as his daughter, so why was it only Adonis who had to sacrifice and endure for the sake of family?
“I have no need for a father or family who demand endless sacrifice.”
“….”
“What father asks one child to give up their dreams for the sake of another?”
“My lady, this is a matter concerning my family.”
“I know. I’m merely sharing my thoughts.”
“…”
“While you sacrifice for your family, who among them sacrifices for you?”
In her, I could see a shadow of my past self, three years ago.
Despite all the cruelty shown to me, I had tried to embrace the ducal family as kin, purely because they had claimed me as their daughter.
After eight years at the duke’s residence, I could have considered them my family.
After all, the Duke and Duchess themselves had insisted I call them “Father” and “Mother.”
“What exactly are you trying to say, my lady?”
“Nothing in particular. Just that I wonder if there’s truly any reason you alone should have to bear it all.”
There were countless things holding back Adonis Betrice.
The derisive stares and whispered mockery she must have faced when she first took up the sword. And no doubt, before she became a royal guard, many tried to obstruct her path simply because she was the first woman knight.
“If someone tries to hold you back, wouldn’t it be best to cut their hand off?”
“….”
“In the end, the one who should matter most to you isn’t your family but yourself.”
Even if Sir Adonis chose to abandon the name Betrice and sever family ties, it would not change her blood.
“Abandon it?”
The suggestion seemed to strike her like a blow, leaving her visibly taken aback.
“Isn’t it that you want to keep wielding the sword? If it matters more to you than family, then so be it.”
“…”
“Doesn’t the Founding Festival occur in autumn?”
As cosmos flowers bloom and dragonflies flit over the fields, the empire’s Founding Festival draws near—a celebration second only to the New Year’s Festival in grandeur.
There are plenty of amusements, and the swordsmanship tournament is among the most anticipated events.
“The victor is granted a wish by the royal family, correct? Seize that opportunity.”
“A wish, you say?”
“Hm…”
As I tapped my finger thoughtfully against the table, an idea flickered in my mind, and I allowed myself a faint smile.
“Perhaps the emperor could grant you a new family name.”
The suggestion that she cast off her surname left Sir Adonis visibly tense.
“It’s your decision, of course.”
“I never expected to hear such a thing from you—the duke’s precious treasure.”
She likely thought it was the careless remark of a sheltered young noblewoman. For nobles, renouncing one’s family name was akin to rejecting one’s very identity.
But this did not apply to Sir Adonis. Her identity was not bound to the Betrice name, nor were her accomplishments solely due to her family’s influence.
“You earned your titles—the youngest, the first—not because of the Betrice name, but through your own merit.”
Sir Adonis met my gaze squarely. Without my own experience of being cast out by my family, I would never have said such a thing.
Had I still been addressed as April, I would likely have echoed the platitudes of other nobles—“But they are still your family.”
“You might think I’m saying this easily because I’m an outsider…”
I stood from my seat. As I did, Sir Adonis looked up at me.
She didn’t seem displeased by my suggestion to abandon her family. Her expression was complex, somewhere between resentment and the intrigue of a novel solution.
“There’s still time before the Founding Festival. Give it some thought.”
Believing it a reasonable solution, I turned to leave the garden.
“You earned them purely through your own efforts.”
Adonis continued to stare at the seat where April had been sitting just moments before.
Since the day she first held a sword, no one had ever said such words to her—no one but April Hill Ryze.
Most believed that any success she achieved, even joining the royal guard, was thanks to the Count of Betrice.
Though she had once comforted herself that as long as she knew the truth of her efforts, it didn’t matter what others thought, April’s words felt like a long-overdue validation of her struggle.
She never expected April Hill Ryze to be the one to say it.
“Did you mean me when you spoke of His Highness?”
The young lady herself had once raised the question in jest. Yet, seeing her now discussing the dissolution of her engagement, she seemed oblivious to the question she had posed just months before.
How could she have forgotten such a recent memory? Or, perhaps, had her accident affected her memory as well? The thought lingered, though nothing else about April suggested such a change.
Outwardly, she was the same as ever, save for being slightly thinner. Yet today, April Hill Ryze did not seem like the noble lady she had always known.
Her words about severing family ties had seemed like the reckless musings of a girl raised with abundant love, yet the look on her face as she spoke left an impression that was hard to ignore.
“In the end, the one who should matter most to you isn’t your family but yourself.”
Perhaps what she had always seen from the outside wasn’t the whole story?
She found herself wondering if April’s mysterious behavior was somehow connected to the strained expressions she had noticed on Lian and Barak’s faces when April returned to the family.
“Something seems… off.”
April wasn’t the same as she’d always seemed to be. And there had been one other time when she’d felt this unsettling familiarity.
It was around the time April graduated from the academy, the moment Barak’s attitude toward her began to change.
Could April Hill Ryze really be someone who transformed so easily?
After all, she was one of the few who had always seen Adonis as a noble lady rather than a knight.
“Aside from being a knight, you are also a woman. There’s no reason His Highness wouldn’t harbor feelings for you.”
“What in the world was she thinking of His Highness?”
Despite having spent more time by Persephone’s side, April seemed strangely untrusting of her.
It was hardly her place as a royal guard to concern herself with such matters, yet something had changed in April since her carriage accident—as if she were a different person.
With the jar of ointment April had gifted her in hand, Adonis made her way back inside.
As she left the garden and headed toward the estate, the Countess, just returning from an outing, addressed her.
“I heard the young lady was here?”
“You’ve heard already?”
“Yes, but she seems to have left soon after arriving. What brought her here?”
“His Highness has requested that I annul our engagement.”
Her voice was calm, without a trace of emotion.
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