A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 122

It was only at that moment that Tilia realized she, too, did not fully trust him. No—more precisely, she realized her own limitations.

She still wanted to hold the upper hand, even in love, even in their relationship.

She didn’t want him to see this pathetic side of her. She wished he would keep showing her his flustered expressions, his restless heart.

At the end of that selfish, petty mindset, Tilia ultimately stashed away the letters that could have ended his anxiety. She even gently touched the one written to an old friend, only to place it down beside the others.

And yet, unable to bear the guilt, she ran to him with hurried steps and threw herself into his arms.

Ilex, who had intended to quietly stay curled up at the edge of the bed as penance for making her cry the night before, wore a confused expression—but one he couldn’t hide his delight from—as he held her tightly.

That night, for the first time, Tilia broke her own rule and gave him a night of uninterrupted pleasure. Perhaps it was born from a feeling of atonement—Ilex likely never even suspected it.

As late spring ripened and transformed fully into summer, the two came to know each other—and themselves—more deeply.

Tilia discovered that Ilex’s body bore more old scars than she had expected, and that she herself, despite pretending otherwise, harbored a quiet possessiveness. Ilex realized that Tilia liked cats, but was simultaneously afraid of them, and that he rather enjoyed the time he spent lazing about in bed.

While it seemed natural to learn about the person you shared mornings and nights with, it somehow felt strange to begin discovering truths about yourself that you had never known.

Still, it was hard to deny the fact that as much as they were discovering each other, they were also learning new things about themselves.

And so, the season of bright sunlight remained in their memories as a season of new discovery.

As they stacked bricks of unfamiliar yet unconfusing knowledge, one by one, the heat wave that had come unannounced gradually began to fade.

It was the beginning of yet another season, one they would welcome together.

***

‘…Here he comes again.’

As the seasons passed, what Tilia grew used to wasn’t just sharing blankets with Ilex.

Even as she carried on various activities with her lover, she steadily adapted to her new workplace and eventually became capable of fulfilling her responsibilities perfectly.

But there was still one thing she hadn’t managed to deal with: Ilex Davenport’s daily pickups.

‘I told him not to come get me.’

Tilia, just about to descend the stairs, sighed when she saw the black carriage parked outside again.

Since her first day on the job, Ilex had shown up at the end of her workday without fail. No matter how much she protested, this was something he clung to as firmly as he did sharing a bed.

Whenever she asked why, he always gave the same answer:

“You wouldn’t understand how much I’ve wanted to do this for the past three years.”

It was true—she had been at a loss for words when she first heard it. But that didn’t change the fact that it had put her in a difficult situation.

Because Ilex came every day in a carriage emblazoned with the Davenport family crest, word had quickly spread in the office that she and the Duke of Davenport were involved.

Just yesterday, someone had come up to her and subtly asked whether they were engaged.

‘That bastard’s probably doing this on purpose to stir up rumors…’

Watching him now, deep in a serious conversation with his aide, presumably having rushed over in the midst of a busy schedule, Tilia let out another sigh.

‘Maybe I should just get used to being the subject of gossip.’

With a heart half resigned, she took a step toward where he stood.

That was when it happened.

“If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was royalty, not a fallen noble. What’s so special about him to be so desperate?”

From a short distance away, a voice, sharp and full of venom, cut through the air.

Tilia turned her head instinctively—and caught sight of a familiar doll-like figure.

“Did you hear? They say the reason the Duke of Davenport broke off his engagement with Cecilia Clayton was because of Tilia Ambrose.”

“No way, really? So she seduced a man who was already engaged and made him call it off? Unbelievable!”

Hiding in the shade cast by the giant pillars of the administrative building, the women whispering about her weren’t all strangers.

One of them was someone she knew by name, Emily Burgess. A colleague who had served as her mentor just a few months ago.

“They say she planned it from the start. There’s even talk that the Duke got her the foreign affairs post himself.”

Emily Burgess leaned in toward the woman beside her, whispering with a face full of malice.

“She only got transferred from Ontaroa to the central Ministry of Foreign Affairs thanks to him. It’s usually hard to go from a consulate to the main office, right? It’s normally the other way around.”

She knew full well why that woman was so worked up over her. It was because, ever since Emily Burgess had become unnecessary, Tilia had gradually distanced herself.

There were multiple reasons Tilia didn’t want to stay close to Emily Burgess.

First, their interests and tastes didn’t align. Second, Emily’s attitude of assessing people based on their “ranking” felt repulsive. And third—and most importantly—

“Tilia! Can I come over to your house this weekend? I’m sooo curious about the Ambrose residence!”

It was far too obvious that she was trying to use Tilia as a way to get close to the Duke of Davenport.

Even during her lonely time in Ontaroa, Tilia had avoided people like her. There was no reason to cozy up to such a person now that she was back in Arkansis.

Using various excuses, Tilia continuously turned down her invitations. After nearly a month of repeated rejection, even the tenacious Emily Burgess began to back off.

Tilia ignored Emily’s attempts to alienate her within the office and instead began eating lunch with the woman from the corner seat who had long caught her eye—a woman with frizzy curls named Susan Boyd.

That alone made Emily throw even more of a fit, but so what? All Tilia had to do was work moderately and go enjoy her time with Ilex after clocking out.

“She must have some nerve. What the hell did she use to rope him in? Sure, her face is… fine, but it’s not that special.”

“She must have something else going for her. She is from a ruined baron’s house after all. Maybe she has some secret weapon she’s hiding.”

“Oh my, like what?”

Tilia slowly walked over, her gaze fixed on Emily Burgess’s eyes, gleaming with disgusting energy.

Emily likely had no idea. Since Tilia had started working in Arkansis, she had always avoided conflict and played nice.

“I’m curious too. What could it possibly be, Secretary Burgess?”

But she needed to know. If they were never going to clash, it was one thing—but once a fight started, Tilia had never lost. Not once.

“What kind of special thing do I supposedly have?”

The sudden appearance of the very person they had been gossiping about made not only Emily, but also the other woman beside her, go pale with shock.

They had been so loud—and yet somehow hadn’t considered she might hear. Or perhaps they just hadn’t expected her to confront them so directly.

“Well… who knows. What do you think it is, Secretary Ambrose?”

It was clear from her expression that Emily had fallen into the latter camp. She must’ve thought Tilia was easy to mess with.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say it myself… It’s just a rumor, that’s all…”

“What, that I’m supposedly amazing in bed?”

Emily had tried to be vague, only alluding to the gossip—but Tilia’s direct shot hit its mark.

“W-what! How could you say something so vulgar…!”

“Vulgar? But you’re the one who started that rumor, Secretary Burgess.”

Without sparing a glance at the woman covering her tastelessly pink lips, Tilia kept her eyes solely on Emily as she continued.

“Weren’t you talking loud on purpose so I’d hear? You were gossiping right next to the pantry—I thought you were begging me to overhear.”

Tilia even gave Emily time to collect herself and come up with a rebuttal.

But all she got in return were pathetic excuses like, “I think there might have been a misunderstanding…” or “I was just repeating something I heard…”

Lame.

She barked so much, I thought she’d at least be good in a fight. Turns out she’s the type who hides her tail and pretends to know nothing once you actually call her out.

Tilia looked at Emily with open disdain, then, just as calmly as she had approached, turned to leave.

“But you know, Emily…”

But it had all been a setup. Tilia had left her most important line for last. Turning her head slightly with feigned indifference, she said:

“Judging others doesn’t make you better than them. If people started judging others by class the way you do—”

Looking straight into Emily’s dumbfounded face, Tilia mimicked an expression she’d often seen Ilex Davenport wear when he looked at others.

“The very first person they’d cut out… would be you, Secretary Emily Burgess.”

That was the end of it. With the exhilaration of rediscovering her old self, Tilia walked away without looking back.