Until that moment, Olivia stood motionless with a pale face. Marquis Ascensio approached her.
Even as everyone in the study displayed hostility toward her, she had maintained a calm and composed demeanor. It was a display of dignity and strength worthy of admiration.
“Olivia, you are not surprised. Did you know of the contents of the will?”
“I did not.”
Olivia parted her bloodless lips slightly, then shook her head.
“If I had known the Count would leave behind such an unjust will, I would have refused.”
“I do not think so. Though many unfortunate things occurred, Pavel truly regarded you as his daughter. And you, by his side, did better than any true-born child could have. You are more than deserving of this inheritance.”
“To the Count, I am grateful beyond words. But it is far too great a legacy for me to receive. And it leaves an unbearably heavy burden upon Lord Theodore.”
Olivia spoke with composure, then turned the subject.
“But… is there not a letter for me?”
“Ah, yes. Here it is.”
Together with his will, Pavel had left several letters: one for Olivia, one for Theodore, one each for his siblings, and even one for Marquis Ascensio himself.
Since these bore no legal weight, the Marquis took out Olivia’s letter without hesitation and handed it to her.
She held the letter in both hands with reverence, and bowed politely to him.
“Thank you for your concern.”
Olivia turned away. Her departing figure was colorless.
***
Olivia returned to the small room in the western tower of Ruttgard Castle, where the servants lived, so as not to run into the guests.
Her original chamber had been the beautiful bedroom and parlor on the same floor as the Count’s study. But just before his death, she had emptied that room, packed her belongings, and withdrawn to the small tower chamber.
It was certain the guests would not have liked otherwise. And considering her place, such quarters were more fitting.
“Young Lady, you are back?”
The maid Mary greeted her with a worried face.
“What were the contents of the will? Surely Master must have left you some inheritance?”
It might have seemed tactless to speak of inheritance so soon after his death, but Mary asked out of genuine concern. For with Theodore estranged because of his mother, there was no one who would look after Olivia.
Olivia did not rebuke her, yet her face remained quiet, as if she did not think well of the question.
“He left me far more than I deserve.”
“Far more? Young Lady, you are no different from Master’s own daughter! No matter how much he left you, it would not be strange at all!”
Mary spoke passionately.
She was not the only one who thought so. The servants of Ruttgard Castle, and the retainers who had remained by Pavel’s side until the end, all worried for Olivia.
Of course, once they had kept her at a distance. But when the Countess died, Olivia had been only a baby, unable even to speak. What blame could be hers?
All within the castle had watched her grow: from a toddling infant who did not understand why she was hated, to a little girl who stubbornly clung to Theodore’s side trying to make him smile, until at last she became a kind and gentle lady.
And above all, she was the greatest comfort to Pavel.
Even those who said his solitude was his own doing could not deny that she made him happy. Pavel had lost a son, but gained the most beloved of daughters.
Even after he was confined to bed, Olivia gave him her utmost devotion. She wiped his body with her own hands, gave him his medicine, checked his posture to prevent bedsores, and when he groaned in pain, she stayed by his side through the night, holding his hand.
Always speaking in a gentle voice, always pushing his wheelchair for walks each day, brightening his heart with her radiant smile as though he were not sick at all. Even a true-born daughter would not have done so easily.
Mary spoke firmly.
“Do not refuse or yield, no matter what they say! Honestly, what have those people done better than you? You were the only one who cared for him when he was ill.”
They called themselves kin, yet at most they visited once or twice, spouting complaints that this or that was not enough, that such and such must be done. Even Theodore had not been there at the end.
In Mary’s eyes, it would have been only natural had Pavel left everything to Olivia.
Olivia merely gave a faint smile at Mary’s indignation on her behalf.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“Young Lady…”
“Do not worry. I do not intend to suffer a loss. Now, Mary—please go to the kitchen and check whether supper is being properly prepared. Since the funeral delayed things, we must see it set all the more properly.”
“Young Lady must be the most grief-stricken of all, and yet you must even concern yourself with such matters…”
Mary spoke with pity, but she did not disobey. It had been years since Olivia had effectively taken the role of mistress within the castle. If things went poorly beneath her, it was she who bore the heartache.
When Mary had gone and Olivia was alone at last, she looked down at Pavel’s signature on the envelope she held, then moved toward the desk. She took out a larger envelope, placed the sealed letter inside without opening it, and sealed it again.
There was no need to read it; she already knew what it contained. It would be better to keep it sealed until the time came when it was needed.
Afterwards, she sank onto the bed, utterly drained. She was exhausted.
It was the fourth time she had endured Pavel’s funeral. Because her return always came the day after his death, she had never needed to suffer through his final moments more than once. That was perhaps a mercy.
Had she returned just a day earlier, she might have seen him one last time. Might have held his hand and vowed to do better, to protect what he left behind.
But the jeweled box did not grant such a chance.
It was bitter, it was grief, but Olivia thought perhaps she was denied because she was unworthy.
Though Mary and the servants had taken her side, the cold words of her kin were not wrong. Ruttgard had fallen in the end because of her. She was not worthy of Pavel’s inheritance.
And yet she could not refuse the legacy, because she needed it to endure what lay ahead. To protect Theodore and Ruttgard, she too needed power.
'If not for this heart…'
As she thought so, she clutched at her breast. If not for this heart, if only she could have hidden it, then she could have ended it all by simply living in Ezekiel’s grasp.
But that would not be.
She thought of Theodore’s glances cast upon her, cold and devoid of warmth. Even before the pain of her third death had fully ebbed, even swallowed in grief and despair, his gaze tormented her.
It was natural that he despised her. Perhaps even fortunate.
And yet still she wanted to ask—
Why did you die for me?
Why did you kiss me?
Why did you commit treason?
Though it was no time to harbor weakness, such thoughts tore at her chest, brought tears to her eyes, and would not let her be.