To be honest, perhaps until this moment I had not even fully realized just how bad things really were.
Of course, I knew that after her exile and public condemnation, Kayla’s life was far from easy. But the final Chapters of the novel contained no details whatsoever about how she lived afterward. As is usual in such stories, the villainess received her "punishment" and simply disappeared from the narrative, making way for the radiant main characters. No one ever asked, "What happened to her after that?"
And now, from these fragments of information, I learned something that turned out to be far heavier than any assumptions.
Kayla had barely left her room for half a year.
Half a year.
The woman who had once commanded armies and fought alongside the greatest heroes of the empire no longer participated in either her younger sister’s life or the affairs of her own household. It was as if she had completely dissolved into her pain, locked behind her door and utterly forgetting that real life flowed on beyond the walls of her bedroom.
And when I realized that my beloved character was living like this... something inside me grew unexpectedly heavy. This was no longer just fan admiration or interest in a character. It felt like genuine, living pain for a real person.
After all, everything I knew about Kayla from the novel was the image of a strong, unyielding woman. One who rose again and again, despite the circumstances. One who became the head of her family, even though she had been an unwanted child. One who did not break under intrigue, loss, and pressure.
But it seemed that this time was different.
Perhaps this very blow — the betrayal of the person she loved, the destruction of everything she believed in, and the physical pain slowly eating away at her body — was what had broken her from the inside. The thing after which she simply had no strength left to go on.
And at that thought, I felt such bitterness that my eyes began to sting.
After dinner, I still could not stop thinking about it. The hours had long since passed into the late night, the house had sunk into sleep: the servants had gone to their rooms, Irene was already asleep, and even Asha, tired from the day, was surely resting long ago.
But I still could not sleep.
I sat in the living room — the very same one where, just that afternoon, I had anxiously awaited meeting Kayla — and again and again my thoughts returned to her. To her being alone in her dark room right now. Perhaps also unable to sleep. Perhaps just lying in silence, surrounded by her own pain...
Longing squeezed my heart ever tighter.
And just at that moment, I heard soft footsteps on the stairs.
I looked up — and with slight surprise, I saw Mrs. Farris. The elderly woman was coming down with a lamp in her hand, lighting her way. Noticing me, she paused for a moment as well, clearly not expecting to see anyone at such a late hour.
"Miss Rider," she called softly. "What are you doing here?"
"Good evening," I rose from the sofa to greet her and immediately felt how stiff my legs had become from sitting in one position for so long. "I simply cannot sleep. All sorts of thoughts are running through my head..."
"Ah, I see," the old woman smiled absently. "I came down because I was thirsty. Dryness in my throat has been bothering me. But I did not expect to find you here."
She paused for a moment, as if weighing something, then added:
"Since it has turned out this way... and neither of us can sleep... would you mind if an old woman kept you company?"
"Not at all! Of course not," I replied hastily, and only then noticed how my inner tension had eased slightly. Loneliness on such a night really did press harder than usual, and someone else’s presence — even that of a near stranger — suddenly felt unexpectedly warm and right.
I shifted slightly, making room. Mrs. Farris sank onto the sofa with a quiet sigh.
She placed the lamp on the low table between us, and its soft light illuminated her wrinkled but surprisingly warm face, kind brown eyes, and gray hair neatly gathered into a bun. For a few moments, we sat in silence, and then she sighed quietly again.
"Miss Rider... to be honest, you surprised me today."
"Hm? In what way?" I raised my eyebrows, genuinely interested.
"Not many people manage to get along with our young lady," the woman smiled, and in that smile flashed a warm, almost grandmotherly pride. "She usually makes a... hmm... rather difficult impression on those around her. But it seems you managed to find common ground with her."
"Ah, you flatter me... you exaggerate, Mrs. Farris."
To be honest, I did not feel that Irene and I had truly "found common ground." Quite the opposite, really.
From the very beginning, she had clearly not been thrilled with me — at our first meeting, she seemed quite ready to show me the door. And during dinner, she had more tolerated my presence than accepted it.
And yet...
Strangely enough, even after all her sharp words and displeased looks, in my eyes Irene still remained an impossible little cutie!
But Mrs. Farris, it seemed, disagreed with me.
"...Not at all," she objected, shaking her head slightly. "If there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is how to judge people. You strike me as a good person, Miss Rider. Sincere... kind. I am sure the young lady feels it too — even if she does not show it."
I was slightly taken aback. Such words sounded too sincere, and I did not immediately find an answer.
"I am certainly glad that our mistress finally has a healer," Mrs. Farris continued, her voice growing quieter for a moment. "I hope you will enjoy working here. And... I hope you will stay for a long time."
"Not at all!" I exclaimed. "I am already very, very happy to be here! Honestly, I have no intention of leaving... at least, not until I have done what I came for."
Mrs. Farris looked at me with a long, attentive gaze. For a moment, I even thought I saw tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinked immediately and looked away toward the lamp, as if hiding that feeling.
"...Thank you," she said quietly.
A few moments later, she chuckled.
"Well, in any case," her voice became calmer and more composed again, "I have worked in this house for a long time and know many things. If you need anything, you may come to me without hesitation. Any questions — domestic or otherwise."
"Thank you," I replied sincerely. "I will remember that."
"And also about the young lady..." Mrs. Farris sighed. "Sometimes she can be sharp or say cutting things. But please, do not take it too much to heart. Lady Irene is not really that much to blame."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
The elderly woman paused for a moment, choosing her words.
"As you already know, Her Grace is the young lady’s guardian. In essence... this girl has almost no one left."
She lowered her gaze slightly, as if remembering something difficult.
"Her parents died very early. Lady Irene probably does not even remember them — she was very young. And her older sister..." she hesitated, softening her tone, "they hardly see each other. They have not for a very long time."
"..." I listened in silence, feeling her words grow heavy.
"So it turns out," Mrs. Farris continued more quietly, "that Lady Irene is growing up almost alone. There was no one to explain to her how to behave, how to talk to people, how to be a true lady..."
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
"So it is no wonder she does not have the upbringing one usually expects from aristocrats."
At that moment, the woman suddenly seemed far more tired than before. As if everything she had held inside for so long had finally found an outlet — and was now settling between us, a heavy but honest burden.
"Although Lady Irene attends an academy for noble children," Mrs. Farris continued, "that is not enough. There they teach dancing, history, etiquette — everything a noble girl is supposed to know. But that cannot replace being raised at home. And even less so a living example within the family. Do you understand?"
She clenched her fingers slightly on her knees.
"Our lady simply has no elders to look up to. She has no one to lean on in difficult times."
She paused for a moment.
"Do not misunderstand," the woman added. "I am not complaining. I just want you to understand. So that you do not judge her too harshly. Irene is a good girl. Kind. It is just... she does not know how to show it."
I pressed my lips together.
Inside, everything tightened with doubt — whether to ask the next question or remain silent. It seemed too personal. But the words still slipped out before I could stop them:
"What kind of relationship does Her Grace have with Lady Irene?"
"Now?" Mrs. Farris smiled bitterly. "None."
She fell silent for a while, as if choosing her words more carefully, and then continued:
"As you already know, Her Grace and the young lady have not seen each other for half a year. Not at all. They do not even cross paths accidentally in the house..." the woman sighed quietly. "But to be honest... even before that, things were almost the same. The Grand Duchess was always busy: affairs, meetings, the order, constant travel. And when she returned... she had no strength or time left. So essentially... our young lady has always been very lonely."
"..."
"She thinks we do not notice," the old woman continued, "but I see it. I see everything. Almost every day, she walks past her sister’s room... and stops. As if she is waiting."
She closed her eyes for a moment.
"...Waiting for the door to suddenly open. For someone to call her. For at least today..."
She did not finish.
And she could not.
"But the Grand Duchess..." Mrs. Farris exhaled softly, "lets almost no one in. And that includes the young lady. It is just... for her, it is probably infinitely more painful."
"..."
"Poor girl," whispered Mrs. Farris. "All alone in this huge house."
And at that moment, I suddenly realized that she was voicing not only her own thoughts.
Because inside me, everything had already been tightening with that same heaviness for a long time.
Imagining that this little, stubborn, incredibly lively child carried such loneliness within her every day... was almost unbearable. My heart felt ready to burst.
And perhaps now I could no longer simply close my eyes to this.
At the very least, I had to try.
"Do not worry," I said and, without noticing it myself, covered her warm, wrinkled hand with my palm. Mrs. Farris flinched slightly but did not pull away.
"Tomorrow, I will try to speak with Her Grace about this matter," I said firmly, looking her straight in the eyes. "I do not know if I will succeed... but I will try."