25.
Nina stared fixedly at the invitation, then turned to Marsha.
“…Should I go?
Or would it be better not to?”
Marsha, who had been dismantling ornaments from an out-of-season dress to reuse them, let out a weary sigh.
“Milady, that’s the thirtieth time you’ve asked me that.”
Ever since opening the invitation to the exhibition,
Nina had asked the same question thirty times in the span of half a day.
And Marsha’s answer had never changed.
As you wish, milady.
“Still… I really don’t know if it’s right to go as his aunt, or if it’s better not to.
That’s why I keep asking…”
If she went, her husband would likely scold her for meddling.
But if she didn’t, then who else would?
Before her regression, Ian had not returned home for three whole years.
Ash had never once visited him, either.
Not a single academy event had been attended.
Not bringing Ian home during the holidays—that much she could excuse.
She had been in the household, after all, and her presence might have been thought detrimental to the boy’s wellbeing.
But that hardly explained why no one had ever gone to see him.
The Marquisate of Henige was only about two days’ travel through the portal.
Busy or not, it wasn’t an impossible distance.
Ash—a man better suited to breaking cleanly than to bending.
When she remembered that the very reason he had married her was because of his nephew, she couldn’t help but think—perhaps it wasn’t only a sense of duty that bound him.
“Wouldn’t the young master’s grandmother or grandfather attend?”
“I doubt it.
I heard the two of them are far too old for long-distance travel.
They’ve already passed down their title to their son and are living quietly in the countryside…”
“Then what about his uncle?”
“That uncle of his?
Didn’t he fight with my husband over guardianship…?”
“…Ah.”
Nina considered bringing it up, just in case, but soon shook her head.
What am I thinking?
I’ll be gone in a year anyway.
What business do I have playing the role of his aunt?
It was nothing more than pointless meddling.
And all because she was empathizing too much with the boy.
Sports days, open classes, graduation ceremonies…
Even Jang So-young had once spent those moments craning her neck, waiting endlessly for her parents to show, darting her eyes around in search of them.
Not exactly fond memories.
Why am I even remembering this…
Nina gave her head a small shake, scattering the shadows of her past.
In the end, no matter how pitiful the child’s circumstances, all she could do as a one-year, temporary aunt was ask her husband whether he planned on attending.
“Marsha, could you ask the Duke if he might spare me just five minutes of his time?”
“Yes, right away, milady.”
It wasn’t as though she wanted to chat idly.
She had a clear purpose and was asking for only five minutes
—surely there would be no strange misunderstandings.
“Milady, the Duke says he’ll come here shortly.”
“He’s coming here?”
“Milady, you’ve injured your leg.”
“It’s not even that uncomfortable to walk anymore…”
It had been a few days since that incident-the scab had begun to form, and the swelling in her ankle had gone down.
The wound still gave a faint twinge now and then, but it was nothing that kept her from walking.
And yet he was showing her this consideration, simply because she’d been hurt in his stead.
It wasn’t some grand gesture, but after so much neglect it felt like a startling change.
I have a really good feeling about this…
Yes.
When she thought about it, despite all the dark stains of her past, she hadn’t clung to him.
She had managed the household affairs diligently.
She had even saved both the Marquis of Soldersford and his own life.
By any reasonable measure, he ought to have set aside at least a portion of that long-standing resentment by now.
And yet—if he wouldn’t even let her ask about attending the school festival,
then truly he was nothing less than the very icon of obstinacy.
“So, you demanded a divorce, and now you intend to angle for the role of doting aunt?”
Yes.
He was, indeed, the icon of obstinacy.
Flustered, Nina’s eyes widened.
“I only asked because the invitation arrived.
That’s all—how does it turn into something like that…?”
“My nephew is my concern,” he replied coolly.
“If you don’t mean anything by it, then do not involve yourself in matters concerning him.
From now on, keep your distance.”
His voice was low, stripped of emotion, and her lips parted in shock.
“In a year, this marriage will be over.
There’s no need for you to play the part of an aunt.”
His movements were restrained, his tone even more so.
Nina’s lips trembled, the words catching before they could form.
Anger, annoyance, suspicion
—she had braced herself for any of those reactions.
But this?
What met her instead were eyes emptied of all feeling, a gaze as lifeless as stone.
And yet, it was precisely that emptiness which gave Nina certainty.
There was something between him and Ian.
Something she didn’t know.
Something heavy enough
that he could speak these words with all his emotions smothered, as if he had been expecting this confrontation all along.
As he turned to leave, Nina called after his back.
“If I crossed a line you never meant me to, then I apologize.”
“……”
“…But, Your Grace, Ian is only ten years old.
He may be waiting for you.
I only hope you’ll give it some serious thought.”
She couldn’t know what it was that made his steps falter.
But she knew all too well the feeling of standing alone among children laughing hand-in-hand with their parents.
It was lonely.
It was desolate.
And at times, it was unbearably shameful.
With a faint, bitter smile, Nina could only hope that his choice would not be one that left Ian’s young heart wounded.
***
A voice echoed, muffled and damp, as if trapped in a cavern.
…Uncle.
Ash turned his head, searching for the source.
There, perched on the edge of a bed, sat a boy small enough that he barely reached Ash’s waist.
Black hair.
Ash-gray eyes.
A face that was the mirror of his half-brother, Joshua—it was Ian.
With hollow, vacant eyes, as though his soul had slipped away, Ian asked,
Uncle… is it true?
Ash knew he could never blind those eyes with a lie.
His lips parted heavily.
…Yes.
Slowly, Ash bent down on one knee before the boy, his head bowed low.
And he confessed.
My mother will never leave the annex.
Not in this life…
Not even in death.
“……”
Ash’s heavy lids lifted at last.
The day he locked his mother away in the annex for poisoning his half-brother—The day Ian discovered the truth, and Ash had knelt before the boy to beg for forgiveness.
Perhaps it was that memory—its desolation and crushing guilt—that surfaced in his sleep, for now his eyes burned and his chest felt tight.
With a long sigh, he dragged his hands down his face, as if to wash away the heaviness, then stared out the window with tired eyes.
He must have dozed off while trying to rest his throbbing head after the day’s bitter conversation.
The sun was already sinking.
Ash let out a hollow laugh.
His mother had been feeding his half-brother a deadly poison in secret for years—
One that first robbed him of the use of his body, and in the end, stole his life.
He only learned the truth after the funeral, right as the title of duke had passed to him.
“If not for me, you’d never have inherited the house.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Never mind, child.
It’s nothing you need to know.”
But he couldn’t ignore those ominous words.
And when he investigated in secret, he uncovered the truth-His brother had not died of illness.
Behind his death… was his mother.
“You have done what no human should do.
From now on you will not set foot outside the annex.
Not in life, not in death.”
The day Ash learned the whole truth, he locked his mother away in the annex.
But there was one thing he had not expected.
“Ash, how do you think I came into this house—!”
“I am the lady of this house-my son should inherit!
How could that woman’s son possibly take the line!”
“I had no choice.
They were preparing to drive you out of the family.
You didn’t think that poor thing truly treated you as a brother, did you, my son?”
“It was all for you!”
Ian had come to his room and overheard all of it.
Ash felt as if his breath had been stolen from him.
The greed dressed up as concern—his mother’s endless appetite
—struck him like a blade.
Because of her, he had lost a cherished brother-Ian had lost not only his father, but his grandmother and his uncle as well.
That day, Ash fell to his knees before Ian.
There was no way to blind the boy’s eyes with lies-all he could do was accept the fate that the victim of his mother’s avarice deserved.
The tragedy the child had suffered was beyond forgiveness.