Chapter 65
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Chapter 65
At Leopold's question, I found myself recalling what Aunt Elicia had said to me earlier that day.
'Just as you always have, Charlotte. Follow your own heart, not someone else's thoughts. On the Eve of Saints' Day and beyond—always....'
As I gazed into Leopold's seductive grayish-green eyes, a small sigh escaped my lips.
"Ah...."
Could it truly be, as Leopold suggested, that I need not sacrifice today for tomorrow? With only a thin veil separating life and death between us, I found myself wanting to spend just this one day longer in his company.
"Your Highness, is it really true that the Prince who was too devoted to his duties to dance with the ladies more than a few times? Seeing you like this now, I must say.... You seem far too skilled at seducing a lady with your words."
At my petulant remark, a smile played across Leopold's face. At some point, just as I had developed the habit of flushing my cheeks crimson whenever I concocted some absurd scheme, Leopold too had begun to raise his dark brows and smile whenever he entertained some equally foolish thought.
As Leopold's nose brushed lightly against the tip of mine, he whispered softly.
"Hmm, do you think I can only seduce with words?"
I tilted my head in confusion at his cryptic question and replied.
"I beg your pardon? Then what else could.... Mmph!"
But before I could finish my sentence, Leopold's warm lips pressed firmly against mine.
"Mm...."
After a moment of surprise, I yielded to his kiss with a soft moan, accepting his lips. And so, with that long and passionate kiss, we midnight lovers chose to forget, if only for a moment, the matters of murder and disappearance, surrendering instead to the sweetness of the remaining darkness.
Leopold traced my lips slowly with his tongue as he whispered.
"On the Eve of Saints' Day, when spirits seek out their earthly forms, what do you most wish to pretend with me, Charlotte?"
Leopold rose slightly, then drew me close, embracing me from behind. His lips traced a gentle path along the curve of my neck as he continued.
"On that night, you'll feel my touch and kiss far more solid and vivid than they are now."
"Mm...."
At the question posed by that rough yet captivating voice, I rested my nape against Leopold's shoulder, lost in thought for a moment. His soft breath caressed my cheek, and above the deep night sky, a gentle breeze—like his very breath—rippled through the darkness.
'A night that could become a special memory shared between His Highness and me.'
I thought—no, I was certain—that the Eve of Saints' Day might be the last memory Leopold and I could share together. If I saved him within the remaining week of searching, he would lose all memory of me.
Yet I pushed aside the sorrow and answered.
"On the Eve of Saints' Day, I wish to dance with Your Highness once more."
I lifted my head and pressed my lips to Leopold's chin as I spoke.
"Just as I danced my first dance with you in this forest...."
After parting from him, who else could I dance with, who else could I share my heart with? I let my voice trail off, speaking in measured tones.
'I wish to dance my final dance with Your Highness as well.'
These were words I could not bring myself to speak aloud. However it came to pass—whether he lost his memory or whether he departed toward eternal rest—the dance we shared on October 31st might become my last dance. I had no intention of reclaiming the heart I had already given him, whether because he had forgotten me or because he had moved beyond.
'Perhaps Aunt Elicia and I are similar in more ways than just our ability as mediums.'
I thought of Aunt Elicia, who had loved her late husband for decades even after losing him.
Leopold's transparent emerald eyes turned toward me. His soft dark-brown hair fell close to his straight brows.
"Then...."
Leopold whispered in a low voice.
"Prepare a mask for the Eve Ball, Charlotte."
"Pardon?"
At Leopold's sudden request, my eyes widened in surprise.
On the Eve of Saints' Day—Halloween, as it was called—a masquerade ball was held. So when Leopold asked her to prepare a mask, did that mean he intended to dance with her at the eve celebration where people gathered?
(*Hollow's Eve, called "Halloween" in Scottish usage.)
As if reading Charlotte's bewilderment, Leopold continued slowly.
"Your Aunt Elicia said so herself. On that day, all people wear masks so that even spirits can mingle among the living and dance with them."
Leopold's leisurely gaze suddenly turned grave.
"If I truly reclaim my flesh on that day, I wish to dance with you before everyone."
Charlotte gazed into his emerald eyes. If she danced with a stranger—not Philip Oslo or Armand—at a masquerade where whispers of love came easily, her name would undoubtedly become the subject of society's gossip once more.
But having fallen in love with Leopold, Charlotte had already ceased to worry about her reputation. Instead, she asked him in a trembling voice.
"Would you truly dance with me before everyone?"
In Charlotte's mind, she envisioned herself and Leopold dancing amid the vibrant revelry of those enjoying the eve celebration. His dark brown hair would gleam in the remaining sunlight, and they would dance to the brilliant melodies of an outdoor ball instead of the sound of wind.
"If you permit it."
Leopold spoke with an even slower cadence, recalling the turbulent emotions he had felt upon witnessing Charlotte dance with Philip Oslo at the ball before.
"Then other gentlemen will not dare approach you all the more. In return, throughout the ball, I shall not share you with anyone—I alone will have you. Is that acceptable?"
At Leopold's playful yet somewhat sincere tone, Charlotte burst into laughter before she could help herself. At the sight of Charlotte's smile, which he had not seen in so long, Leopold's gaze grew all the softer.
"Very well, Your Highness."
Charlotte answered, her face flushed. It was rather embarrassing for her to see Leopold, who appeared so cold and perfect, display jealousy toward her.
Yet Leopold's requests were far from over.
"And there is one more thing I wish you to promise me, Charlotte."
Leopold whispered in an deliberately solemn voice. At this, Charlotte found herself turning to face him and sitting down. Perched upon his thigh, she gazed into his clear emerald eyes.
Leopold made his request to her in a gentle tone.
"Just for that day—just as much as the day I found my body—please don't speak of my disappearance or death."
Charlotte's face trembled slightly with surprise at his unexpected words. Leopold, his expression tender and unchanging, brushed away the strands of hair from her forehead and cheek as he spoke.
"When the next day comes, we shall return to our worries about finding where my body exists, and we shall speak of the fifth porter, the client, and such things...."
Unlike the soft smile playing at his lips, his voice was earnest and true.
"But for that day, I wish to exist not fearing my own dissolution, but simply as two souls in love—two spirits intertwined."
As his words faded, a cold wind swept from the depths of the forest. The willow branches surrounding them swayed greatly in response, as though Leopold's plea had become that distant breeze, stirring Charlotte's heart.
He seemed to be asking her—no, pleading with her—to see him not as a "case" to be solved, but as the complete and whole "Leopold" for just that one night.
'Two souls unafraid of dissolution, two spirits in love....'
Charlotte repeated his words silently in her mind. Then, gazing into his grayish-green eyes, she slowly nodded. Seeing this, Leopold smiled softly and took her hand, placing it against his heart. There, only Charlotte could feel it—a faint, rhythmic heartbeat emanating from somewhere beyond the veil of his spirit, pulsing through her fingertips.
***
Days later, the morning of October 31st—the Eve of Saints' Day—dawned. Everyone seemed delighted at the prospect of perhaps seeing spirits and at the thought of attending the sacred and extraordinary Ball.
Especially the unmarried young people, masked and dressed in a manner unbecoming of refined society, hurried from one social gathering to another throughout the early morning hours.
Of course, among those busy people were Brentwood's famous trio of gossips.
"At every event I've attended today, I could feel the passion of young people hoping to find love using tonight! Dancing in masks, forgetting rank and propriety all night long—how thrilling it must be! Hehe."
"Is that so? Then I should tell them about the forest mist that grows particularly thick on the Eve of Saints' Day."
As Merlin spoke playfully, Witting looked at her with a puzzled expression.
"But tonight is when the Ball unfolds all evening—why speak of forest mist so suddenly?"
"You didn't know? Two years ago, a young couple not even betrothed were passionately kissing in the thick mist. It was fortunate they fled before anyone could recognize them, or else there would have been quite the scandal."
Contrary to her words about what a disaster it would have been, Merlin chuckled as though she hoped to witness such a scene herself.
"No matter how thick the forest mist grows, the heat of love cannot be hidden, so I thought to warn them not to trust the mist too much."
Witting burst into laughter at Merlin's words. Come to think of it, the secret and verdant forest was indeed the most ideal destination for lovers heated with passion from the Ball. Witting spoke, her voice tinged with amusement.
"Merlin, now that I think about it, there's one young lady who absolutely must hear today's warning about the fog. Charlotte Augusta, that is."
The remaining two members of the gossip trio simultaneously bowed their heads toward Witting, having sensed the arrival of fresh scandal. Witting opened her mouth once more.
"I attended a tea gathering this morning, and wouldn't you know it—Charlotte was sitting practically pressed against Armand Rochefort, engaged in the most serious conversation."
"But wait, wasn't Charlotte Augusta already confirmed as Count Oslo's intended? I was convinced that today might be the very day he proposed to her!"
Merlin interjected with theatrical alarm, but Witting shook her head.
"My dear, do listen to what I'm saying. Of course I thought the same—you remember when Charlotte collapsed at the Oslo Estate Ball? How tenderly Count Oslo cared for her then? When everyone arrived at the Gallery, he was cradling her in his arms like she were a princess."
Witting continued, savoring the anxiety of both Merlin and her husband James.
"But today, Armand Rochefort said something quite remarkable. He said, 'I know time is running short, but I will do my utmost. Even if there is no time left... even if I find myself in a position where I cannot act officially, I will continue to stand beside you.'"
"My goodness, my goodness. Stand beside her in what way? And what does he mean by time running short?"
Merlin let out a delighted shriek and posed her question. James Whiting, not to be outdone, offered his own theory.
"Perhaps the time refers to how long remains before Count Oslo's proposal? And continuing to stand beside her would mean that even after Charlotte accepts his proposal, Armand intends to maintain his affection for her."
"Good heavens, so Charlotte is caught in quite the wretched love triangle?"
Witting spoke with evident delight. Merlin nodded in agreement.
"On a night as enchanted as the Eve of Saints' Day, when even those who once despised each other fall in love—what of lovers already so thoroughly inflamed?"
The Eve of Saints' Day, despite its strong religious character, had become a stage where many young people of Brentwood—including Jane, the eldest daughter of the Augusta Family—witnessed the fruition of love.
As the leader of Brentwood's gossip trio, Merlin whispered a conviction that bubbled up from the depths of her heart.
"Mark my words, everyone. I believe Charlotte will disappear into the fog with someone tonight. Whether it's Armand Rochefort or Count Oslo, I cannot yet say."
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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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