A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 129

Just like muttered words, it was truly a strange thing. There was definitely something about Tilia’s reaction.

For example, an anxiousness like hiding the fact that the letter had been intercepted along the way.

To really know if Tilia had experienced such a thing, it was necessary first to collect evidence. Thus, it was necessary to determine whether my guess was correct and why she had tried to hide it.

And yet, they said no evidence had been found. That there was none anywhere.

Why? Ilex furrowed his brow and once again deeply inhaled his cigar.

The Tilia I knew—unless she hadn’t written the letter in the first place—would never have gone through the trouble of writing it and then not sent it.

There was no change in the suspicion that the letter had been intercepted midway. In that case—

‘Someone must have stolen the evidence first.’

Just as the conclusion came quickly, the next orders to be given were decided just as swiftly.

“Search the postal administrations near where Tilia lived.”

Ilex lazily opened his mouth as he placed the barely-smoked cigar down into the crystal ashtray.

“There’s no need to investigate all the mailmen thoroughly. It doesn’t seem like the letter was delivered anyway. But go through the postage stamp records issued during the time Tilia was staying there, thoroughly.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ilex looked at the aide, who bowed his head loyally, and then lowered his gaze back to the documents. It was a gesture meaning he could leave now, and after bowing once more, the aide silently opened the door and left.

Ilex stared at the documents for a moment before leisurely picking up a sharp pen in his hand.

At the very least, meaningful evidence would be found at the postal administration. Because the woman who orchestrated all of this must be cornered quite severely by now—it would be too much for her to erase every last trace.

Really. She should’ve just played around with some local men in her hometown. Why did she have to get greedy and touch someone else’s, causing all this mess?

Just as a bitter smile curled at the edge of Ilex’s lips, a polite knock sounded at the door.

After a moment’s pause granted by permission, the person who entered was a man with sharp eyes.

He had once stood in a place of glory as a knight but, for certain reasons, had chosen to live hidden in the shadows serving the Duke as an assassin.

He stood firmly in the middle of the office.

“The target?”

At the Duke’s question, the report began without any unnecessary greetings.

“Lady Seraphine is currently confined at the main Davenport estate. Last week, twice, agents of the Bardin royal family attempted to make contact with her, but they were swiftly dealt with and blocked.”

Although she was a woman who would die soon anyway, even the assassin and all of Ilex’s subordinates still addressed Seraphine with honorifics.

It was probably due to the peculiar nature of her relationship with him.

As if anyone would truly think of that woman as a mother.

Ilex thought for a moment about ordering them to just call her ‘that woman,’ but even that was too much trouble and he gave up.

Whatever Seraphine Davenport was called, it had nothing to do with him anyway. She was a woman destined to die soon, just as he had just been thinking.

“Behead the agents and display their heads on the window frames.”

Instead, Ilex issued a slightly more necessary command.

“And if she shows signs of starting to go crazy, make sure she can go outside appropriately. The more evidence of a suicide there is, the better.”

Originally, Seraphine Davenport should have died as soon as she arrived in Arkansis. The only reason she had managed to survive until now was one thing: Three months ago, her brother had suddenly died.

Coincidentally, his cause of death had also been ruled as suicide. Of course, just like the plan Ilex was currently putting in place, it might very well have been a murder disguised as suicide—but what mattered was the official cause announced.

If members of the Ontaroa royal family continued to die in succession, and by the same cause at that, it would draw far too much attention.

He had considered other causes of death, but no death was as clean as suicide. Accidental deaths had already been used with his father and brother. There was no need for creativity when it came to death.

Deciding to push forward with the original plan even if it was a little troublesome, Ilex was now waiting for the right moment to kill her.

More precisely, he was waiting for the moment when the cornered woman—his mother—would completely lose her mind and create a variety of evidence for him.

“I drove her nearly to the edge last night, so she must already be halfway out of her mind.”

With a perfectly composed demeanor, Ilex stamped the document in front of him.

“Soon she’ll show signs of madness. When she does, release her somewhere with plenty of people around.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man with tight lips offered no unnecessary words to the command. After bowing once, he left the room as silently as the previous aide.

Left alone again in the room, Ilex unconsciously let out a pleased hum.

At most, one month. It would all be over within that time.

Would the funeral for his mother be held in Ontaroa?

Thinking of the mourning clothes he had always ordered to be kept clean, Ilex smiled.

However, the reason for the smile he wore was not because of the long-awaited death of his mother.

If Tilia found out he had become a perfect orphan, she would surely wear a troubled expression, not knowing how to offer comfort. Just like when they had reunited in Ontaroa after three years, where she had stumbled over her words trying to console him, this time too, she would be even more at a loss, feeling sorry for him.

Yes, what he wanted to see was that reaction born from his mother’s death. The expression that would weaken, full of sorrow for him, the way she would hover around him like a puppy wanting to soothe him.

Ilex knew exactly how blurred a human’s judgment could become when driven by sympathy. And he was also perfectly aware of what he needed to do to not miss that opportunity.

The man, wearing a picture-perfect curve of a smile on his lips, turned his blue-gray eyes toward the top drawer. With a simple motion, he unlocked it and retrieved a velvet box that had been lying quietly inside.

Click.

With a clear sound, the box opened, and inside was filled with radiance.

In the room that had begun to darken, Ilex gazed at the emerald ring that sparkled like a candle flame devouring the darkness.

The carefully obtained ring, perfectly matching Tilia’s eye color, was an engagement ring.

If he whispered that he wished he had a family too, slumped his shoulders, knelt down as if crumbling, and then presented the ring—

Then, overwhelmed by a momentary wave of sympathy, Tilia would inevitably accept it as if possessed.

Just imagining Tilia’s white hand wearing that ring made the night retreat and dawn arrive. It felt as if the light spilling from the box was brightening the entire room like the sun.

Even if in reality it was merely the gleam of his own eyes burning with longing.

Even if it was just him sitting alone in the dim room, grinning foolishly at a ring without an owner.

At least, in this moment, it felt real to him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tilia’s feelings. Rather, it was himself that he couldn’t trust. More precisely, it was himself, the one whom Tilia trusted, that he couldn’t believe in.

He knew. He knew that Tilia thought of him as a good person. That she thought of him as someone devoted to her with a bone-deep gentleness.

And to some extent, she was right. At least toward Tilia, he truly couldn’t be cruel.

Ilex could not be a bad person to the one and only person in the world—her. At the slightest gesture, he would melt away helplessly, inevitably becoming soft.

The problem was that all of his tenderness and affection were limited solely to Tilia.

Paradoxically, the deeper his affection for Tilia grew, the more he realized. When he imagined Tilia’s reaction upon discovering his actions, he became aware that what he had done was, undeniably, a crime.

The greater problem was that, although he feared Tilia learning his true nature, he did not feel even the slightest guilt.

No matter how he thought about it, he didn’t think it was a bad thing.

What was so wrong about removing those who tried to steal what was his? All he had ever wanted his entire life was Tilia. What was so terrible about eliminating those who interfered with that?

Everyone, when they encounter an obstacle on their path, clears it away. In his case, the obstacles just happened to be people.

Tilia’s family had been as filthy and revolting as the things he had discarded.

He still remembered vividly. When he had gone to find Baron Ambrose, who had fallen into destitution and was hiding, what the man had been wagering with the gambler next to him.

“Ah, I’m telling you! My daughter is the top graduate of the academy, the top graduate! If you let me off just this once, I’ll soon really have her…”

At the moment he saw the man, even in such dire straits, still trying to sell off his daughter, Ilex abandoned his original plan to quietly send the Ambrose family far away without killing them as a last courtesy.

Instead, he ensured that they would be left in a state where they could never utter such words again.

He could swear to it. If he hadn’t intervened, those people would have surely reached out to Tilia.

And not just them. His father and brother, and even Cecilia Clayton and her father, would have found a way to erase Tilia from the world.

How could he stand by and let that happen? If he hadn’t struck first, they would have destroyed everything.

It was only after growing older, only after nearly losing Tilia, that he finally understood.

His grandfather had been wrong. To protect the butterfly, one must crush the spider. To protect what is his, one must wield the sword first.

Even if his grandfather were to rise from the grave now, Ilex would not feel the slightest shame.

Of course, if Tilia were the one asking, that would be another matter altogether.