A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 107

Many enemies came to mind. In order to rise to this position, he had inevitably stained his hands with the blood of countless people.

The problem was—who could possibly possess the ability to breach House Davenport’s defenses and accomplish their goal?

His father and older brother were already dead. The head of the Clayton family was crippled, and Cecilia could no longer speak.

All those who could have posed a threat to him were crawling on the ground, their limbs severed.

There should be no one left who could dare touch what was his, who could brazenly pull off something like this. At most, perhaps some royalty somewhere…

Royalty.

At the sudden thought, Ilex’s steps stopped. His blue-gray eyes quickly ran through his personal connections.

Come to think of it, there was one left. A quiet relative he had spared, having seen no reason to bother, someone he hadn’t paid attention to.

And come to think of it, that little one who had clung to Tilia used similar methods.

“Kevin.”

Recalling the man who supposedly turned up dead before they could get to him properly, Ilex called out coldly to the aide following behind him.

“Double the security at Essentine Mansion. Especially on the floor where Tilia is staying—make sure only maids with verified identities can enter.”

“Yes. I’ll deliver the order to the knight commander.”

“And…”

As he continued issuing commands, Ilex suddenly frowned, as if the pouring sunlight was too bright.

“And plant a spy in the Ontaroa royal family.”

But only for a brief moment. Ilex then walked toward the carriage, face expressionless as if he had never shown any emotion at all.

***

The dinner table that evening was set in the glass greenhouse, just as Ilex had said the day before.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling of the white-pillared greenhouse, and as their light reflected off the glass, it created a dreamlike atmosphere as if they had stepped into a fairy’s home.

The sweet spring breeze blowing in from the wide-open corridors, the vivid flowers blooming in abundance before her eyes—

Feeling it all with her senses, Tilia was swept up in the sensation of having been invited into a fairytale.

“Not to your taste?”

Unlike her, Ilex seemed entirely unmoved by the beautiful scenery.

“If it’s not good, don’t force yourself to eat. Leave it. There are other dishes prepared.”

“No, it’s delicious.”

She shook her head at him, as if saying he cared only about how much she ate, unable even to smell the flowers’ fragrance.

“I was just looking around a bit.”

At her words, Ilex finally looked up as if only now noticing their surroundings. Ah. He let out a short exclamation and, with a slightly softened expression, raised his wine glass.

“If you like it here, you’ll probably enjoy the pergola in the back garden too. It’s the season when the roses are in full bloom.”

Bringing the glass of red liquid close to his lips, he spoke nonchalantly, “Let’s eat there next time.”

Tilia quietly watched him wet his throat with wine.

Today, Ilex Davenport was as flawless as ever. But he was different from how she remembered him at the academy.

From the bones of his hand gripping the knife, from the neatly worn vest, from his broad shoulders—she could feel he had fully become a man.

Then, how much of the inside had changed?

The young boy from the academy who once couldn’t hide his inexperience and the man sitting before her now overlapped. The boy who had blindly wanted only her and the neatly dressed Duke overlapped.

Suddenly, the sound of a train whistle rang out.

“This. If you ever run short, sell it and use the money. It’s a pretty valuable item. Don’t accept too little for it.”

At the same time, the memory of his voice surfaced—when he had placed the butterfly-shaped ring into her hand.

The butler who showed her around the mansion today had said Ilex cherished that ring deeply. That it had belonged to his grandmother. That it was a precious gift from the grandfather he had especially adored.

‘And yet, he told me to sell it.’

Suddenly, it felt as if the end of the necklace she was wearing was hooked on the edge of the table. It was so unbearably heavy that she felt like she would collapse to the floor.

“Let’s go before the roses fall.”

Unaware of Tilia’s heart, which was still floundering in past memories, Ilex clung to the next promise.

“You said your favorite flower was the rose.”

That was just… because the flower that came to mind at the time happened to be a rose.

Tilia let out a sigh without realizing it, upset that he so persistently remembered something she had said carelessly out of annoyance.

At her reaction, Ilex slightly lifted his gaze and looked at her.

In that gaze, the Ilex from their academy days and the one in front of her now merged and completely fused together.

Now, the passage of time held no meaning. Whether past or present, it was all too clear that aside from a few changes in appearance, he was the same person.

At least for her, that was undeniably the case.

“…Yeah, let’s go.”

When she finally gave her belated answer, Ilex narrowed his eyes slightly, as if suspicious, and raised his wine glass.

As she watched him take a sip, Tilia suddenly couldn’t hold back and blurted out, “You’re not a manwhore, are you?”

Cough. As if something had gone down the wrong pipe, he put down the wine he had been drinking and coughed a little. Ilex wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and asked again as if doubting his own ears.

“What?”

“Back in academy. You didn’t sleep around with just anyone, did you?”

That was a question—and a gut feeling—Tilia had held for a long time.

The more she recalled Ilex Davenport’s behavior during their academy days, the more she became convinced he wasn’t trash. Of course, it was only a conclusion she had drawn in her head, with no solid evidence or proof.

Sometimes, though, conviction is a more accurate measure than evidence. Especially when it comes to matters of love.

“You weren’t a manwhore. Right?”

Ha. As if trampling on his faint hope that he had misheard, Tilia asked again, this time with clearer pronunciation. Ilex let out a wry laugh filled with mixed emotions.

“Why?”

After chuckling for a while, he rested his elbow on the table and propped up his chin.

“Do I look like a rag that could at least wipe someone’s feet now?”

“I’m not joking.”

Really? At Tilia’s firm gaze, one of Ilex’s eyebrows rose playfully.

“I know you didn’t sleep with just anyone. But…”

“……”

“Then why did you act like such trash to me?”

At those words, Ilex slowly erased the playfulness from his face and gazed quietly at Tilia.

Behind him, light split into various reflections, sparkling like the moon, like stars.

Amid the cascade of light, Tilia looked at his noble beauty with a heart fluttering like petals swaying in the breeze.

She could feel it. He was hesitating—whether to be honest or to lie.

Tilia clasped her hands tightly beneath the table, wishing he would choose the direction she wanted.

“…Because I thought you’d despise me less that way.”

The answer came after a long pause. Ilex, removing the arm that had been supporting his chin, muttered softly.

“Tilia, you… you despise men who like you.”

She could instinctively tell. This was a sincere answer. A truth he had finally spoken after much hesitation, with a touch of resignation.

She had received an honest answer. She felt a brief sense of pride in that—but only for a moment, because Tilia soon realized what he had really meant behind those words, and she bit her lip.

So—because she despised men who liked her, he had pretended to be trash. Which meant, in the end…

Tilia wasn’t so foolish that she didn’t understand why he had had to say it with such resignation.

Fidgeting her fingers beneath the table, she lifted her wine glass and said as nonchalantly as she could, “When did you start liking me?”

“Hmm. When was it?”

Ilex’s expression was indifferent. He briefly glanced at Tilia, who sipped her wine nervously to hide her tension, then casually added, “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“I’ll believe you.”

Before he even finished speaking, Tilia answered quickly.

“If you say it, I’ll believe it. No matter what.”

At her eager reply, Ilex stared intently at her.

The light shimmered in the breeze. The scent of all the flowers danced in the air. But within the spring-filled greenhouse, Tilia could feel nothing except his gaze and the faint trembling inside her.

“…Since the end of our first year.”

Looking at her—her eyes, her nose, her lips—he finally answered in a slightly husky voice.

“I’ve liked you since then.”