A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 99

“Yes. That was my mistake. I apologize, Your Grace.”

Though his face clearly showed the impudent thoughts running through his head, the aide bowed earnestly, pretending otherwise. Choosing to be magnanimous, Ilex set his pen down completely and rose from his seat.

“Have the carriage prepared.”

With a relaxed air, Ilex adjusted his cravat and gave the order.

“I’ll be down shortly.”

“Shall I bring the cologne as well?”

The aide, unable to shake the habits of his former role as servant, asked in an eager voice.

“I also purchased a bottle of the scent you lingered on the longest when the perfumer visited last week. It’s stored in the fragrance cabinet, so if you say the word, I’ll bring it immediately—”

“Kevin.”

Ilex issued a low warning toward the aide, who was visibly too excited.

“That’s enough.”

“Yes. My apologies.”

Quick to read the room, the aide bowed again and quietly exited the room.

Ilex remained a little longer before the mirror, then slowly opened the drawer, retrieved the perfume bottle stored there, and sprayed just enough to not be overpowering.

Why even bother bottling this into a perfume?

Recalling the aide’s earlier words, Ilex chuckled faintly.

Soon, he’d be meeting the woman who bore the true scent.

Savoring the memory of Tilia’s distinct fragrance, Ilex licked his lips and set the bottle back in place. After one final glance in the mirror, he strode out with long, confident steps.

***

“We’ve arrived.”

It hadn’t taken long to get from Essentine to the Davenport main residence.

Ilex, who had made that short journey feeling it far too long, looked up at his home with a slightly stiff expression. Atop the towering mansion, the sun cast its rays with an almost excessive brilliance.

He had gazed upon this place thousands, even tens of thousands of times, yet today it felt strangely unfamiliar. Perhaps because someone far too important now resided within.

Feeling his nerves edge upward, Ilex began walking toward the drawing room.

As he passed through the long corridor crammed with decorations the former duke had flaunted for wealth’s sake, Ilex recited the promises he had repeated countless times in the carriage.

Be indifferent. She’s probably already guessed your feelings, so it’s fine to acknowledge them a little, but make sure it doesn’t seem greedy. So that, by any means necessary, her guard can be lowered.

Whenever reality had felt unbearably cruel over the past three years, Ilex had contemplated and contemplated again with the heart of an ascetic.

How to gently infiltrate Tilia’s heart. How to be perceived as someone safe to be around.

At one point, he had dared to hope just a little, but seeing that she never contacted him, not even once, it was clear she still viewed him no differently than she would any other man.

The simplest way to lower Tilia’s defenses was to act like Judy Wells.

As with many overly intelligent people, Tilia preferred transparently honest individuals.

But for that very reason—the reason she had come to like that kind of person—Ilex couldn’t choose that path.

Be honest with your feelings? That’s a good way to get stabbed.

He could guarantee it. If Tilia ever learned what he truly felt, she’d recoil in horror and flee.

Even in the minuscule chance that she grew fond of him, this prediction would still hold true. With her seemingly straightforward views on intimacy, this was a realm she must never uncover.

…Perhaps he could hint at it, little by little.

Stuffing the filthy thought that had crept in back into the depths of his waistband, Ilex looked ahead to the drawing room door that was now only a few steps away.

The simplest, easiest option had been taken off the table. So he would go with the next best.

He would use the same strategy that had succeeded once before.

Though the unique context of escaping from family played a role then, Ilex had once managed to stand by Tilia’s side.

If he reused some of the behavior from back then, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Tilia Ambrose, no matter what anyone said, had high walls when it came to others—especially men. The best way to lower them was to show, ‘I am indifferent and harmless to you.’

Yes. Slowing his steps, Ilex reaffirmed his resolve.

If anything, things had improved. Obstacles had been neatly removed, and his usable resources had only increased.

Above all, he had changed. He could feel it himself. He had grown. He was no longer some immature boy drowning in his own emotions.

And so—

“…You know what, Ilex Davenport? Tilia Ambrose despises you.”

The words Cecilia Clayton had once spat would never become reality.

Finally standing before the door, Ilex steadied his shaky breath, placed his hand on the knob, and turned it without hesitation, stepping boldly inside.

Bathed in noonday sunlight, Tilia Ambrose sat on a red velvet sofa in the drawing room.

Her hands, neatly folded on her lap, contrasted with her slightly turned head. Ilex quickly noticed she was staring at a portrait on the wall.

It was a family painting that, until that very moment, even he had forgotten was there.

A plain portrait of parents with their sulky children standing behind them—Tilia gazed at it as if it were some fascinating creature. So intently, in fact, that she didn’t even notice his entrance.

And Ilex, in turn, simply stood there, blankly watching her focused profile.

Tilia Ambrose did nothing. She didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t make a sound.

She simply existed. Like the countless ornaments that lined the hallway. Like the portrait she now looked upon.

And yet, just by existing, the woman overwhelmed him.

The moment he truly realized that she had returned, Ilex felt the past three years of his life crumble like a sandcastle before a wave.

All the vows he’d made on the way here, the mask he’d carefully worn—none of it mattered. Tilia, by merely sitting there, reduced him to the seven-year-old boy who used to stomp on spiders.

Everything had returned to the beginning.

Like a man rendered powerless before nature’s enormity. Like all civilizations inevitably fading before the passage of time.

He had lost all of those three years—and become nothing more than a boy, once again in love.

“Oh…”

It didn’t take long for Tilia to realize someone had entered the room. Sensing the presence belatedly, she turned her head, and her eyes met his—he, who still stood dumbly holding the doorknob.

Ilex saw astonishment flash in those vivid green eyes, like all the freshness of the world lived in them. Then, that surprise shifted into confusion.

“You could’ve said something if you were here.”

Only after she spoke with a slightly awkward face did Ilex manage to pull himself together.

Hastily gathering the shattered pieces of his mask and placing them back over his face, he stepped into the room. At that moment, a maid—seemingly waiting outside—hurried in, set down a tray of tea and pastries, and exited.

Between the two seated across the table, the faint, bitter scent of tea drifted in the air.

But Ilex couldn’t smell the carefully chosen blend at all. Every sense he had was attuned to Tilia.

To her immense presence, filling the large drawing room like a force of nature.

It was then, as if she might run away at any moment, that Tilia subtly drew her feet inward, as if to pull herself back.

Only then did Ilex realize she found this silence uncomfortable—that his presence unsettled her.

The promises he’d forgotten the moment he walked in resurfaced with startling clarity.

“…So.”

After steadying his voice internally, he spoke in a tone that betrayed none of his true feelings.

“Why are you here?”

The question, delivered coldly, came with a sideways glance at her. Even to his own ears, it sounded unpleasant—but she didn’t seem fazed.

“I came because I have something to say.”

Facing him squarely, she said it with a calm expression.

“…And what is it you want to say?”

If you’re going to offer congratulations again, forget it. Ilex, muttering silently, stared hard at her hands resting quietly in her lap.

“I went to see my father at the hospital.”

Tilia, looking slightly nervous, broached the topic he had been expecting.

“I heard the Davenport family has been paying the hospital bills.”

After that, she paused briefly—then, just as he’d anticipated, said the words aloud.

“That’s not money you needed to pay. I’ll reimburse you.”

Her expression, her tone—everything went exactly as expected. There was no reason for disappointment.

And yet Ilex felt his shoulders sag without realizing it.