Chapter 66
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Dear, I believe you may be misunderstanding.
Chapter 66
"Now that I think about it, when I was young, sparrows would often fly down and perch on my head."
"Sparrows?"
"Yes, my hair was quite frizzy when I was little. Sparrows kept landing on my head, which upset me terribly. I thought the birds were treating my hair like a nest."
Grace's hair now fell in perfectly lovely curls.
The dark color gleamed like elegant pearls when caught in the sunlight.
But when she was young, her hair had been quite severely frizzy.
Norman had often teased her relentlessly, saying her fluffy hair resembled beast fur.
How much she had despised it as a child.
"Lucas's hair was also quite frizzy when he was young—it did look somewhat like a bird's nest. But I found it absolutely adorable."
"My mother said the same thing, but you should have seen how she laughed every time a bird landed on my head."
Selena imagined small birds nesting and perching atop young Grace's head.
'My goodness, just imagining it is precious.'
Though I had never seen Grace as a child, imagination alone was sufficient.
It seemed impossible not to find it endearing—especially picturing such a small, lovely little lady carrying birds upon her head.
Had I been there, I would have laughed far more than Grace's mother, certainly not less.
'What a shame.'
Had it been me, I surely would have captured that moment in a photograph, without fail.
Selena gazed at Grace with an expression full of longing.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"...Would Grace hate me if I said I wish I could see that sight even now?"
"I beg your pardon?"
That sight...?
'Surely she doesn't mean... me with birds perched on my head?'
Grace quickly shook her head in alarm.
"No, absolutely not. That's impossible."
Unable to show her true distaste, Grace merely shook her head, and seeing this, Selena clung to her with a petulant whine.
"But you never know. If such an opportunity ever arose, you must show me. The thought of missing something so adorable makes my heart ache with such longing and sorrow."
"Even if you say such things..."
"Hmm? Grace, please. We don't know if such a thing will happen or not."
Are you truly sincere about this?
Faced with Selena's woefully regretful expression, Grace, whose lips had only been moving silently, glanced about hesitantly before slowly nodding.
"W-well then... just this once."
"Thank you, Grace."
"And please don't tell His Excellency. I have a feeling he would cling to you just the same if he found out..."
"Of course. Shh—let's keep this our little secret."
Selena winked and smiled knowingly.
Grace, whose eyes had been rolling in bewilderment, also smiled back at Selena.
'She really is precious.'
Grace's innocent earnestness in responding seriously to Selena's teasing about something that might never come to pass was endearing.
No wonder Lucas was so eager.
In the corner of her heart where Felix once occupied space, tender new growth was beginning to bloom.
As they bantered and conversed for a moment, the ladies who had been waiting for their carriages began to depart from the Lobby one by one.
Countess Gestash and the Butler saw their guests off.
Since they had already exchanged greetings, they simply nodded to one another as they left and disappeared.
"Oh, another carriage is approaching. Is that the Black Family carriage?"
Countess Gestash spoke as she watched the carriage drawing near in the distance.
Lora, who had been waiting outside for the carriage, shook her head.
"That's not the carriage we arrived in."
"No? It isn't?"
Countess Gestash, who had naturally assumed it was the Black Family carriage, looked bewildered.
The Butler beside her provided the answer.
"The mistress's close friend was scheduled to arrive today. She said she would come in the afternoon after lunch, so I suspect this carriage brings her now."
"Ah! Of course. Mother's guest was supposed to arrive."
That was why they had moved up the time for tea, though she had forgotten about it.
Realizing it was not their carriage, Selena and Grace, who had naturally started to step outside the Lobby, took a step back.
In the meantime, the worn carriage came to a stop before the Lobby entrance.
Countess Gestash greeted the guest with composure, as if she had been waiting for them.
"Welcome. I am Merian Gestash. Thank you for traveling such a distance."
"Oh, thank you. I'm Kashanu. I came here at Anna Gestash's invitation."
A small, delicate elderly woman with snowy white hair straightened her slightly hunched back as she exchanged greetings with Countess Gestash.
Her face was creased with wrinkles, her eyes barely visible when she smiled, yet her clear voice and bearing radiated vitality.
"Thank you for coming. Mother is waiting for you. David, would you please show this guest to Mother?"
The Butler who had been standing behind the other servant bowed his head to receive her command.
The elderly woman moved slowly, following the servant's guidance.
Selena and Grace, watching from the Lobby entrance, gave a slight bow to the approaching elderly woman.
At that moment, the elderly woman glanced at Grace and fixed her gaze upon her.
"Oh my."
Her wrinkled lips parted slightly in surprise, forming a smile.
The soft exclamation of admiration was so faint that only Grace could hear it.
The elderly woman did not pass by Selena and Grace but stopped.
The elderly woman smiled warmly and spoke to Grace.
"My child, how you've grown."
Grace asked, bewildered.
"Do you know me?"
"I saw you a very long time ago."
At the elderly woman's warm words, Grace's expression became apologetic.
"I'm sorry. I have no memory of it."
"That's only natural, child. We met when you were far too young to remember me."
She let out a soft chuckle and patted Grace's right forearm gently.
"Fate is beyond our control, after all. Should we meet again soon, let us share more stories then. For now, my old friend is in urgent need, so I must hurry along."
The old woman left Grace with words she could not comprehend, then departed with a gentle laugh, following the Butler.
* * *
"Here is the receipt for the 200,000 Grand that Marquess Oellin provided. Please accept it, and I sincerely hope we do not meet again at the Temple."
Rowen Ganash, the commander of the Temple's knights, extended a stack of receipts with a face as cold as ice.
Norman glared at Rowen with a twisted, menacing expression.
The man facing him remained unmoved, his icy countenance unwavering as he held out the papers.
A low growl escaped him.
'This is all because of that bastard.'
He had not intended to steal all the holy water—merely a single sip.
Despite his excruciating pain, the Temple offered treatment only once a day.
No matter how much he protested, the Temple remained adamant that this was their policy.
To accept such exorbitant fees under the guise of treatment while failing to alleviate even a single ache was outrageous!
Enraged, Norman had sought to find his own remedy for the pain.
And then, by sheer coincidence, he had spotted the holy water storage room with its door left open.
This was entirely the fault of the priest who had failed to secure it properly.
Moreover, it was the Temple's fault for accepting vast sums while failing to address his suffering.
Ultimately, the blame lay with the Temple, not with him.
The legendary elixir that cured all ailments, restored vitality, and even enhanced vigor—it had been right before his eyes.
Any person would covet such a treasure placed within reach.
And was he not a patient suffering from unbearable pain?
He had not intended to steal it all—merely a single sip. Just one sip...
'What are you doing there!'
Unfortunately, that man had caught him in the act.
Knowing severe punishment awaited if he were captured, Norman fled immediately.
In his haste to escape, he had damaged several of the protective stones guarding the holy water.
Yet before he could take even ten steps, he was seized.
'Such sacrilege!'
Norman was dragged by that man's hands like a dog.
He had been hauled before the High Priest for a full ten minutes, degraded and humiliated.
No matter how he reflected on it, he felt utterly wronged.
The protective stones had prevented him from even tasting the holy water. Had he at least sampled it, this injustice would not sting so deeply.
As a result, Norman had committed no real transgression, yet bore only shame and financial liability.
The Temple's treatment ended that very day.
From then on, he was merely a hostage and a criminal.
"I say again—I am wronged. What crime have I committed to warrant such treatment?"
"...Yet you were apprehended in the act, and still you speak with such audacity."
"I did nothing wrong, and yet you call it caught in the act! That is defamation of character!"
"I'm afraid I cannot engage further. Please do take care of yourself, and I pray you suffer no more injuries. The Temple has determined that you are afflicted with a terminal illness, and no amount of donation will persuade us to treat it."
Blasphemy was a grave sin indeed.
Rowen Ganash turned away, his eyes cold and sharp as frost, as if to impart this very lesson.
The Temple knights who had menacingly dragged Norman out in his wake filed back into the sanctuary with military precision.
Click, click, click—clang!
The Temple doors shut firmly before Norman's eyes.
Norman's pride was wounded beyond bearing. He ground his teeth and clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"Young Master... shall I escort you back to the Estate?"
The attendant who had come to fetch Norman asked cautiously.
Norman stood in place for a long moment, steadying his breath and lifting his chin.
Fortunately, his sternum had healed cleanly, and the pain had nearly vanished.
As long as he didn't overexert himself, he could resume his normal life. There was nothing to gain from losing his composure here.
"Yes, let's return to the Estate."
Father would need to know how they had treated the eldest son of the prestigious Marquess Oellin.
For that to happen, it would be most prudent to unleash this fury in his father's presence.
* * *
Just as Norman climbed into the carriage.
A crowd had begun gathering toward the Temple, and now a contingent of knights and soldiers approached, bearing the unfamiliar coat of arms of some noble house.
'What is this?'
Dozens of soldiers clad in silver armor marched in perfect formation toward the Temple.
The area before the Temple instantly became a bustling marketplace, filled with children and citizens who had followed in their wake.
As Norman retreated to avoid the throng, a magnificent carriage escorted by the silver-armored knights came into view.
'...Two wolves?'
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org