Chapter 27
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Chapter 27
"To my eyes, he simply appears kind and adorable."
"Our Lucian?"
I asked with wide eyes. Lucian was certainly cute, but... he didn't seem particularly kind.
"He treats Amelia with such tenderness, and he willingly shares his toys with the children at the Orphanage—isn't he a considerate child?"
"Well..."
It seemed more like he was just trying to look good in front of Amelia.
"And his affection toward his aunt is quite remarkable."
"Our Lucian?"
"Yes."
Claude nodded, a faint smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"You may not have witnessed it, but I did. I saw how Lucian watched over the fallen Miss Rilprey with such devoted care. Beyond the love he bears for his aunt, only a child with a pure heart could do such a thing. Though I suppose that makes me a sinner for causing you to collapse."
Claude's expression, which had maintained a smile throughout, grew embarrassed. From his face, it appeared he had suffered considerably at Lucian's hands for being the reason I had collapsed.
"Isn't that less about kindness and more about... obsession?"
I belonged to Lucian, and he had a peculiar tendency to cling to anything he considered his, whether person or object.
"People call obsession toward another person attachment. And forming such attachment is no ordinary matter."
Claude's eyes, now stripped of their mirth, gazed downward.
"Children do not doubt their parents' love. That is the nature of the bond between parent and child."
A child receives unconditional love from their parents even before birth, while still in the womb. This teaches them never to doubt love itself.
"But we are not the parents of those children, are we? It is a relationship where trust without doubt is difficult to form."
"That's true."
I was not Lucian's mother, just as Claude was not Amelia's father. No matter how much love we poured out, we remained beings whose affection could only be doubted.
"Yet Miss Rilprey has accomplished that remarkable feat."
"Me? I have?"
I opened my eyes wide.
"You saw it just now. How Lucian cried out in anguish."
Just moments before, he had said that his aunt clearly did not love him. Yet now Claude spoke of our bond being strong.
"If he truly doubted your affection, he would not have spoken that way. Instead, he would have accepted it quietly."
"What do you mean?"
"Children are more perceptive than you might think. They clearly distinguish between those who like them and those who do not."
I nodded in agreement.
I could see it plainly in Lucian himself. His demeanor toward me differed markedly from how he behaved toward the Duke.
Before the Duke of Bellomen, he spoke less and caused no trouble whatsoever. He understood that the Duke did not favor him particularly.
He did not play pranks on just anyone either. Lucian selected only those who seemed willing to tolerate his mischief. Even Count Chernin, whose beard had been cut, was among those who found Lucian quite endearing.
As Claude said, if Lucian truly believed I hated him, he would have chosen to distance himself from me rather than cry out in anguish.
"Lucian grieved because he loves his aunt too much. Sorrow is the emotion one feels when wounded by someone they firmly believed in."
"Ah..."
A small exclamation escaped me.
"Now do you understand? Lucian firmly believes in the love you give him."
Only then did I nod in acknowledgment.
Lucian had raised his voice because he believed I loved him.
My love had always been directed toward him. I was undoubtedly his person.
So how jealous must he have felt when his aunt—whose love belonged entirely to him—seemed to favor another child?
"Forming such an attachment is difficult without being a parent. Adults must make endless efforts, but children must also learn to fully accept such love."
"...."
"What I mean is that both you and Lucian are very kind and affectionate people."
"...I'm a bit embarrassed."
I lowered my gaze, unable to meet Claude's eyes. I felt too self-conscious to lift my head at such unfamiliar praise.
"There's no need to be embarrassed. You should be more confident. Raising a child who isn't even your own—how difficult that truly is."
"Still."
I had always lived with doubt, wondering if I was raising Lucian correctly.
People would scold me for his mischief, saying he had received poor home education. Each time, I would sink into self-reproach for teaching him wrong and couldn't escape that feeling.
Claude was the first and only person to praise me for this. Moreover, he empathized with the difficulties that came from raising a child who wasn't my own.
But what moved me most was something else.
"You're the first person to speak well of my Lucian."
Lucian had always been treated as a troublemaker. I had heard nothing but descriptions of him as fierce, wild, and violent.
Yet Claude called him kind and affectionate.
'To me, Lucian was only a villain.'
Perhaps I had been viewing Lucian through only my own narrow perspective, or trapped within the framework of the original story?
I was simply grateful to Claude for seeing Lucian's merits that even I hadn't recognized.
"I know it's just flattery, but I'm truly grateful."
"It's not flattery."
Claude shook his head with a serious expression.
"I'm in the same position as you, raising my niece. I know from experience how difficult it is to forge such a strong bond. I understand how hard it is to fill the void left by a parent."
Claude's gaze turned toward Amelia, who was stacking blocks in the distance. Despite his words of difficulty, his eyes watching his niece were infinitely warm.
'So that's why Amelia grew up so well—because Claude is this kind of person.'
I found myself newly impressed by Claude.
It wasn't merely that he had raised Amelia properly. Recognizing the merits of troublemaking Lucian, comforting and encouraging me who shared his circumstances—these were things an ordinary person couldn't do.
'Good.'
I clenched my fists tightly, leaving Claude behind as his gaze remained fixed on Amelia.
'If I give Lucian my trust, he won't waver.'
I would give Lucian a love so strong that I wouldn't feel anxious even if Edwin entered the Duke's Mansion.
I repeated this vow to myself over and over.
* * *
"It's hot."
Claude murmured as he brushed his left cheek where Lucella's gaze had lingered. His exposed cheek was flushed red like a ripe tomato.
The sound of Lucella's voice thanking me was beautiful. The way she looked at me with admiring eyes was also incredibly lovely. So much so that I couldn't possibly meet her gaze.
So I deliberately looked elsewhere. If I had met her eyes, my heart might have burst.
But even as I feigned indifference, even long after she had left, my heated face showed no sign of cooling.
All I could do was step outside to let the wind cool my face.
"Uncle, what are you doing?"
Amelia, finding Claude's behavior peculiar, stepped outside.
"Nothing much."
I couldn't bring myself to admit that heat was rising to my face.
"...Something's off."
But there was no way the perceptive Amelia would fail to notice.
"...You're really acting strange."
But there was no way the perceptive Amelia would fail to notice.
"It's because of Sister Lucella, isn't it?"
"..."
"It's obvious without even looking. Your face is all red, and you're cooling it down in the cold air."
Claude couldn't say anything. Amelia had struck the nail on the head with uncanny precision.
Amelia cast an affectionate glance at her uncle and opened her mouth.
"If you like her this much, why don't you marry Sister?"
"Marriage isn't something you can do so easily."
"So you're not denying that you like her?"
"..."
Claude's lips sealed shut again. But soon he shook his head and spoke once more.
"In any case, marriage is not such a simple matter. You'll understand when you grow up. You can't marry someone based solely on affection."
Especially not as the head of a household.
"So. You're not going to do anything?"
"That's not it."
I had no intention of giving up before even beginning.
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