A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 141

Ilex lifted his eyes from the pit of regret and looked at the woman standing in front of the desk. Tilia, holding a key in one hand and a file in the other, was trembling slightly.

“Why, why…”

She looked pitiful. He wanted to go to her and pull her into his arms. But the Tilia standing before him now would never accept his embrace. She would recoil in fear.

So, not wanting to be rejected, Ilex didn’t approach her. Instead, he closed the door.

The door shut silently behind him. Blocking off the only exit she could escape through, Ilex looked at Tilia with a much more relaxed expression.

“Why go this far, why…”

Why, she muttered weakly, as if about to collapse. Ilex only repeated it in his mind.

Why? Well…

Because that was the only way I could have you.

That day was still vivid. On that snowy winter platform, he had been left kneeling, blankly staring down the tracks that had taken Tilia away. Powerless, he had let her go to a faraway country, unable to protect her.

After that day—after being grabbed by the nape and dragged home by his father—Ilex was imprisoned in the basement for some time.

He didn’t care to think about the humiliation he endured there. Nor did he wish to recall the orders they forced on him, using Tilia, who had gone to Ontaroa, as a hostage.

In that iron-barred hell he lived through while still breathing, all Ilex ever thought about was the day he would take Tilia back. He imagined the day he could hold her in his arms again and shower her with love.

Yes, he would confess it: at that time, Tilia was more than a goal. She was the embodiment of freedom and survival.

Daring to say it—she was salvation.

Earlier, he had said that he did it all just to have her. But the truth was, that wasn’t it.

He did it because he wanted to live. To live. To live together with Tilia. To be with that woman who dared to dream of a free life, despite not knowing her place.

If he was with her, then maybe he too could live as a human being—not a tool, not a means to an end, but as a person.

Tilia Ambrose meant that to Ilex Davenport. Like the butterflies he had loved as a child. At first he may have been captivated by their beauty, but in the end, it was their flight toward the sky that had truly enthralled him.

So asking why held no meaning. There was no reason behind an act close to slaughter. He did it simply because he had to. Because it was the only thing that made sense.

Then why are you asking? Why are you trembling so, face so pale?

As if you’re about to leave me.

Even though I’m blocking the only exit with my own body.

Ilex looked at Tilia, who had begun to cry and gasp for breath, with eyes full of affection. Of course, that tenderness came from knowing she had nowhere to run.

Only after meeting her did he realize how lacking his life had been. That he had only been enduring a life stripped of desire.

But after letting him feel something whole, after showing him what a perfect life could be—now she wants to run away?

That won’t do, Tilia.

Ilex whispered to himself and quietly locked the door behind him.

“Ilex, love isn’t like that.”

When he was young, his grandfather—the only adult who had cared for him—had said:

“Let the butterfly go, Ilex. So that it can live freely.”

But Grandpa, Tilia isn’t a butterfly. There’s no reason to let her go.

With a chilly smile, Ilex took a step forward.

The darkness that had vanished under the lamp’s light—he now realized it had all settled within his own heart.

He felt a cage growing within the shadow of himself, one that would trap her.

He would give her a greenhouse. A place where she could escape from predators. He would fill it with fragrant flowers and sweet nectar. A place to rest anytime.

If she truly wanted it, he could even trap a friend in there with her. He wouldn’t like it, but if it was something she wished for, he might allow it.

So she would be happy. By his side.

Yes. Just like now, by his side.

There were only a few steps left between them. Her pale, beautiful face was close enough to touch.

“Tilia.”

Just as he, devoured by desire, reached out to grasp her wings—

“…Was it because of me?”

As Ilex approached, Tilia, who had been staring at him without a single movement, whispered softly.

“Was it because of me… you did this?”

Her voice was so soft it would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been standing this close. It was fragile—like it could collapse with the slightest breeze.

But Ilex, who had focused all his attention on her, was certain. It was Tilia’s voice. And her question, laced with tears, was real.

“…What?”

His brows furrowed deeper in response, unable to help it.

What was she saying? The look in his eyes shifted—not to confusion, but to suspicion—at the words he hadn’t expected.

As she looked at him with trembling eyes, Tilia wiped her tear-streaked cheeks and stepped toward him.

She stepped closer. To him. Without running away.

The unexpected movement softened Ilex’s gaze. The sharp edge in his nerves dulled, as if eased by relief.

“I know your family must have opposed me. There’s no way they didn’t.”

Unaware of what he had just been about to do, Tilia stood before him, her words tumbling out.

“I heard from Judy… that after I left for Ontaroa, you didn’t appear in public for a whole year. When I found that out later… I thought… I thought maybe you were imprisoned. N-not in an actual prison, of course. But if it hadn’t been that serious, I couldn’t imagine why you wouldn’t have contacted me.”

It was an accurate guess. Sharper than he had imagined, Tilia’s words left Ilex in silent awe. There was nothing he could do but listen. He didn’t have the right to interrupt.

“At first, that’s all I thought. But then I wondered… what if it wasn’t just opposition—what if they threatened you? What if they threatened to hurt me, and that’s why you got engaged to Cecilia Clayton…?”

At that point, Tilia’s fingers clenched with tension. The papers she was holding crinkled loudly in her grasp, and she hastily set them down on the desk with a flustered expression.

She went on, unaware that Ilex’s gaze was fixed on those papers—the ones he wanted to burn immediately.

“I know. You’re not the kind of person who’d commit the kind of crime I’ve come to suspect you of. Not without a reason.”

“……”

“So if you did do it… I believe there must’ve been a reason you had to.”

Tilia fell silent at the end of her sentence. The dim lamplight flickered faintly in the dark, and the wind carrying winter groaned beyond the windows, shaking the branches.

In that hush, Tilia slowly raised her head.

Her green eyes—deeper now with tears—locked with his.

The moment that gaze struck his like a tangible force—

No, Tilia.

Ilex had to restrain a bitter laugh from escaping.

Yes, the Davenport family had indeed used Tilia as leverage to threaten him. The people he had led to death had genuinely plotted to harm her.

But if one asked whether that was the reason they died… well.

The threats were only the trigger. Tilia was only an excuse.

He would’ve found another reason to get rid of them eventually. Anyone who dared to climb above their station—he would’ve removed them, regardless.

No one else knew, but he did. He remembered the satisfaction he felt when erasing them according to plan. The thrill that had been faint but undeniably there.

As he peeled away his father’s loyalists one by one, he became sure: the accident that had killed his uncle years ago was orchestrated by his father. The moment the Duke learned that Grandfather wanted to pass the title to his younger brother, he arranged that “accident.”

So the former Duke, who had once killed his own brother in a quest for power, had ultimately died at the hands of his own son—just as power-crazed as he had been.

On the night he received the report that his father had finally breathed his last, Ilex couldn’t help but recall his grandfather’s plea:

“Don’t become like your father, Ilex. Don’t become like Edmund—my firstborn son.”

Only then did he understand why his grandfather had held him close and whispered those words so many times.

His grandfather had seen it. With those gentle but sharp eyes, he had already spotted it.

The cruelty nestled inside his young grandson’s heart. Though Ilex tried to mask it with innocence, he had always carried a more fundamental defect in his morality.

So no, it wasn’t Tilia’s fault. Not the reason he erased so many from the world, not even those among his own family.

It was simply that from the start, he had inherited the propensity for patricide. He had been born with the cruelty to repeat fate.

That’s not it, Tilia.

But as Ilex moved to wipe her tears with a sigh and a quiet voice, he stopped.

And said nothing.