A Butterfly Through the Mist - Special Side Story 1

A New Spring

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

I can’t sort out my thoughts, so I’m leaving them in writing.

I think Tilia might be pregnant.

As her husband, I feel fully responsible.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

I ended up crumpling the paper I wrote yesterday, so I’m continuing in a new notebook.

I first began to suspect my wife might be pregnant last week.

Tilia skipped her monthly bleeding. When we first started living together, her cycle was irregular, but around last summer, it settled and became consistent, always at the beginning of each month.

Until the middle of last month, I just thought it was late. Even though it bothered me, I believed it wouldn’t be anything serious.

But now that the end of the month has passed and we’ve long moved on to a new calendar page, with still no sign…

I have to make a decision. I can’t stay anxious and suspicious forever.

I called the physician.

He agreed to come tomorrow morning, after Tilia leaves for graduate school.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

I asked the physician if he thought my wife might be pregnant.

He said that unless he examined the patient directly, everything would be nothing more than speculation.

He told me to send him back.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

I called the physician again. When he insisted a physical examination was necessary, I made up an excuse and received the examination myself.

The doctor, clearly finding it absurd, said that based on the dates I gave him of when we’d had intercourse without contraception, if pregnancy had occurred then, it would’ve been about two months by now.

Two months…

That there might be a two-month-old baby forming in Tilia’s belly.

I don’t know. My thoughts are too tangled.

The physician cautiously asked in a letter whether the woman I got pregnant was not the duchess but someone else.

Has he lost his mind?

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

The more I think about it, the more I regret not being more thorough with contraception.

Every time Tilia pours herself into her studies, every time she proudly tells me about what happened in graduate school, I regret it even more.

Pathetic.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Today, Tilia snapped at me over nothing.

It was similar to the crankiness she had right before her monthly bleeding.

My heart started pounding at the possibility that everything might’ve just been my misunderstanding.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

I waited, but no.

She’s just… in a bad mood.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia asked why I’ve been circling around her like a dog needing to relieve itself.

She’s too perceptive. It’s exhausting…

I brushed it off, saying, “Hasn’t it always been like that and you’re only now noticing”

I managed to get through it this time, but I’ll need to be more careful from now on.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia said she wanted to eat the lemon sherbet we once had together, so I went out to buy it.

Just in case, I bought three. She ate all of them.

She still looked like she wanted more, but I said it was too sour for me.

She ate the rest too.

She never used to like sour things…

Seeing her eat well makes me happy, but also restless.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia and I went to visit the Bartlett family’s baby.

The baby was so small we were both afraid we’d crush it, so neither of us dared to hold it.

On the way home, Tilia said she felt bad seeing how exhausted Judy Bartlett looked.

I didn’t know what to say, so after hesitating, I stammered like an idiot, asking, “Don’t you think she looks happy?”

Tilia only said, “I don’t know.”

Send medicinal herbs to the Bartlett family. Include baby clothes as well.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia said she wanted to go horseback riding with a new friend she’d made in graduate school.

Regrettably, I told her I had a relative’s funeral that week.

Have a body prepared by this weekend. A young man who died in an accident.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia and I visited the Bartletts again.

The baby was still so tiny, like a newborn puppy or kitten.

On the way back, Tilia said she thought what I’d said earlier was correct. That Judy Bartlett did look happy.

I had trouble sleeping that night.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia complained that she didn’t know why she felt so sleepy lately.

She said she was too tired to study. That it was frustrating.

I comforted her, saying it must be because it’s spring, and studied with her instead.

She liked it when I made summaries for her, relying on my old memories.

Should I go to graduate school too…

I just want to do something for her.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

I drank a little.

Today was the day Tilia participated in a seminar for the first time.

Her eyes sparkled as she ambitiously said she’d do better next time, but all I kept saying was she shouldn’t overdo it.

Until she finally snapped at me.

I didn’t send her to graduate school so I could fail to support her properly.

I feel worthless.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

The physician sent another letter.

He asked how long I intended to delay the examination. That it couldn’t be hidden forever.

I didn’t reply.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia seems to be becoming suspicious of her own condition.

Coward that I am, I pretended not to know.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

I know too. I know it can’t be hidden any longer.

Even knowing that, I keep postponing it because I’m afraid.

Afraid she’ll be horrified.

If Tilia says she doesn’t want a child, then I’ll have to accept that.

Royal Calendar XXX, Month X, Day X

Tilia secretly called the physician.

The play is over.

***

Ilex sat there for a long time, unable to even put a period at the end of the last sentence.

Even though the handwriting was his own, he couldn’t properly register what it said. Frozen like a statue, he suddenly grabbed the ink bottle in a burst of impulse.

Then he poured all of it over the notebook.

The white pages, still full of empty space, were swallowed by solid black ink.

Staring at the notebook he could no longer use, he tore it apart and threw it into the fireplace. The red flames flicked their tongues and devoured those fragments of anguish in an instant.

But only the shadow containing the traces of his self-loathing disappeared. The true emotions, unlike the paper reduced to ash, still surged violently inside him.

I shouldn’t have.

Ilex chewed over the regret he had repeated more than hundreds of times, now as familiar as his own name.

Instead of acting like a rutting animal, I should’ve behaved like a human being…

Grinding down a curse between his teeth, he rummaged hastily through the drawer. But with hands stained black with ink, he couldn’t find the cigars he had always kept hidden inside.

Ah. I threw them out. Leaning back in his chair in emptiness, Ilex remembered belatedly that on a night when he’d been anxious about Tilia’s delayed bleeding, he’d impulsively thrown them all away.

His body sagged like that of a man who hadn’t slept in a week. A sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over him, so heavy that he couldn’t even lift a finger.

Today, all I did was tiptoe around Tilia, send her off to graduate school, then listen to the reports about her movements. Yet it felt like all my strength had drained away before the morning was even over. Meanwhile, the headache kept pounding dutifully at my skull.

I should’ve just told her earlier.

Admitting to himself the expectations and fantasies that had quietly grown inside him the longer he postponed the truth, Ilex covered his face with his hand.

If I’d done that, maybe… maybe Tilia wouldn’t have grown suspicious.

As he had confessed in the scribbles that barely deserved to be called a diary, the reason he had kept the truth hidden all this time was fear.

It wasn’t Tilia’s fault for possibly being troubled by the existence of a child. The one at fault was him for creating that situation.

He knew how desperately his wife had longed for the chance to study. How many years she had spent yearning for a life where she could finally devote herself fully to learning.

Using the excuse that he wanted to share the dream with her, he had insisted on remaining by her side.

Tilia, who had finally entered graduate school as she had longed for, was now happier than ever. Ilex, who lived with her and saw her more closely than anyone else, knew this better than anyone.

Even while struggling under a strict advisor and preparing for seminars, Tilia never lost the sparkle in her eyes. Even when she stayed up late deciphering difficult classical texts, she delighted in wondering how she could interpret them even better.

She enjoyed it more than he had ever imagined. More than anything he’d vaguely pictured. She didn’t even notice the exhaustion. For someone so proud, she accepted the professor’s sharp critiques solely as constructive guidance.

It wasn’t just a hobby. She had exceptional talent. Even a passing dog would acknowledge it. Tilia was one of the rare, extraordinary minds suited for that strange discipline.

She had natural talent, aptitude, and perseverance, yet still she had wandered for years before finally reaching graduate school.

Tilia was truly happy to have found the place that fit her. Watching her chatter excitedly about newly learned methods of interpreting classical texts—methods he himself had to focus hard just to understand—he couldn’t help remembering all the time she had been forced to lose.

She had already wasted years. She was someone who found pure joy in studying. Someone who shone brightest in a space filled with books and knowledge.

So he had decided to support her for as long as possible. To help her enjoy being in the place where she could be most herself.

And yet, he was the one who got her pregnant.

Idiot. Ilex cursed himself again, dragging his dry hand roughly down his face.