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Chapter 4

The man who called himself Leopold—a name that stirred something familiar within me—spoke only of impossible things. In a single night, people had ceased to see me, hear me, ‌‌‌or touch me. As though my soul had departed from my flesh.

"So you're asking me to find out what happened to you?"

Charlotte, now seated at the vanity, pressed for clarification.

"I don't know if I'm truly ‌‌‌dead, if I've become a ghost. When I opened my eyes, I was simply standing in an unfamiliar gallery."

Moonlight streaming through the window illuminated Leopold's handsome face. He appeared far too vivid to be a specter. Charlotte tore her gaze from his refined features and fell into contemplation. He had said that until now, she alone could perceive and interact with him—a spirit seemingly bereft of flesh. Only then did his actions on the staircase make sense.
‌‌‌‌
Charlotte steeled herself and voiced the question that had circled her mind.

"What if you truly are dead? What if you've become a ghost?"

Leopold closed ‌‌‌‌his eyes slowly, then ‌‌‌opened them. A faint smile played at his lips as he answered. ‌‌‌‌
‌
"If that were confirmed, I ‌‌could depart this world with a ‌peaceful heart. Perhaps."

He remained unmoved even by the possibility of his own death. After a moment, he spoke again.

"England is ‌‌‌‌far too quiet. Either I'm still alive for now, or my death ‌remains unknown."

Charlotte tilted her head at ‌‌‌his words. ‌‌‌What connection could his death possibly have with England? Perhaps he was more arrogant than she'd thought—or perhaps ghosts simply were.

"Before the ‌‌‌brief darkness fades, it's now my turn to ‌‌tell you what I can offer."

Whether Leopold sensed her thoughts or not, he rose from his seat ‌‌‌‌and spoke. True to his words, the short summer night had already passed through its deepest hour.

"If you promise to help me, I can help you cover up what you did at Count Oslo's House today."

Leopold raised his hand to the moonlight and continued.

"I was raised in London under my godfather's guidance. So I know the nobility who filled that gallery well, and Count Oslo's House intimately. I believe my information would prove quite useful to you, my lady."

Leopold's words made ‌‌‌Charlotte blink. Just as Aunt Elicia had said, she knew the names of practically every unmarried ‌‌gentleman of consequence in Brentwood and London. ‌‌‌‌There was no way ‌‌she could have failed ‌‌‌‌to hear of a man with such striking features from the upper echelons of society.

"How is ‌‌‌‌it that you know so much about someone of such high standing as Count Oslo...? Wait, what did ‌you say your name was?"

Leopold answered with a faint smile, regarding ‌‌‌Charlotte's suspicious gaze.

"...Leopold."

"No, I ‌mean your surname. I need to know your family name so I can investigate you, don't I?"

Leopold was not a common name either. Yet despite this, Charlotte felt as though his name stirred something familiar within her—as ‌‌if she were overlooking some crucial ‌‌‌‌detail.

"...I might as well not have one."
‌‌
Charlotte pouted at Leopold's cryptic response.
‌‌
"No surname? Are you some sort of royalty?"
‍‌
"...."

His silence in response ‌‌‌to her complaint left Charlotte bewildered. In that moment, Helena's earlier cry echoed through her mind.

'...Count Oslo has arranged a ball ‌‌to welcome Prince Leopold....'

Charlotte's furrowed brow stiffened, and her eyes widened in an instant.

"Wait, surely you're not saying you're the prince of the ‌‌Holland Kingdom who was supposed to visit England?"

"I prefer to be called the Grand Duke of a duchy rather than the prince of a puppet state."

What gave her a more definitive answer than his neither-yes-nor-no response was something else ‌‌entirely—the unmistakable nobility that had emanated from him since the moment I first laid eyes on him.
‌
'Then when he mentioned staying in ‌‌‌England according to his godfather's wishes....'

Only then did Charlotte realize that the godfather he had spoken of was the King of England, and that he was Prince Leopold of the Holland Kingdom, sponsored by Napoleon I himself.

'Good heavens, ‌‌‌even if he is a ghost, he's still royalty—should I observe proper etiquette? No, wait—isn't the real issue that a foreign prince may have died or disappeared in England?'

Thoughts crashed through Charlotte's mind like waves. If that were the case, then investigating his whereabouts was far too grave ‌a responsibility for the third daughter of the Augusta Family residing in Brentwood ‌‌to bear.

"This tale ‌‌is far too grand to be merely the fevered imagination of a fool like me."

Charlotte murmured to herself. It was painfully obvious that anyone she confided in ‌‌‌would think her mad.

As Charlotte wrestled with her confusion, the sky beyond the window gradually brightened. Observing this, Leopold approached her where she sat and spoke.

"Well then, will you accept my proposal, my lady?"

His face remained as beautiful as befitted a ‌‌‌‌‌‌‌prince, yet somehow appeared slightly dimmer than when silhouetted against the night sky. I could not yet fully trust his words, but it was undeniable that his offer to provide me a solution to the predicament Count Oslo had created was tempting.

Charlotte hesitated, about to nod in his direction, ‌‌‌‌before carefully parting her lips.

"Wait—allow me to attempt ‌‌‌‌just one more thing first. If it proves satisfactory, I shall accept your proposal."

Charlotte cleared her throat, pressed her palms together, and closed ‌‌‌‌her eyes.

'A lady who frequently neglects church will one day attract malevolent spirits.'

It was something Maria, the governess of the Augusta Family sisters, had said countless times. Thus, even someone as lacking in discernment as Charlotte felt compelled to test ‌‌‌the identity of this suspiciously captivating specter that had suddenly become visible to her.

"Our Father in heaven, keeper of my prayers and truth...."

The moment Charlotte began reciting the prayer, Leopold gazed down at her with an expression of utter bewilderment.

"...Rid ‌‌me of my fear and ignorance, grant me peace.... Um...."

Midway through the prayer, Charlotte faltered. And in that moment, she realized precisely why Maria had spoken of malevolent spirits—it was because she herself had so often skipped ‌‌church, and thus ‌‌‌‌had no idea how the prayer concluded.

"Fill my heart.... That is, my heart.... Um...."

"Ha."

Leopold could not contain himself and burst into laughter at her stammering. Then he placed his large hand over ‌‌her two small hands clasped together. Kneeling on one knee to meet her gaze, Leopold recited in a voice as pleasant as it was low.

"Heal all the wounds and suffering that remain in ‌my heart...."

Charlotte's eyes opened at his unexpectedly gentle voice. A ‌‌malevolent spirit could not recite a prayer. Moreover, as he spoke the words with the dawn sky at his back, he appeared more sacred and reverent than anyone she had ever known. ‌‌

"And fill me with passion and love to remain at your side until the end of eternity."

As dawn broke, Leopold gently opened his eyes. His crystalline gaze, fixed upon ‌‌‌her, seemed to blend the tender verdant hue of spring's first shoots with the ashen shadows of a summer tempest. Beholding those enigmatic eyes, Charlotte found herself nodding slowly, as though entranced. And thus their covenant was sealed—consecrated by prayer ‌‌‌‌itself.

---------------
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our ‌‌‌official site: valirscans.org
---------------