A Summer With Bitter Rivals - Chapter 93

Chapter 93: Four Years of Time

Emeline faced the lukewarm summer evening breeze flowing in through the open window.

Her brow furrowed as she stared at the dim sky outside.

Gazing upward as if checking the time, she soon lowered her gaze smoothly to the mansion’s front gate.

‘When on earth is he planning to come?’

There was someone she was waiting for.

After remaining there for quite a while, Emeline suddenly rose from her seat.

It was when a carriage stopped in front of the gate and someone stepped out.

Emeline quickly made her way down to the mansion’s entrance, her heart so urgent she momentarily forgot her noble poise.

Soon, the large doors of the mansion’s grand hall opened, and a tall man walked in.

Emeline stood in his path as if to block him. The man halted his leisurely steps upon seeing her.

Antony tilted his head. “…You came all the way to greet me? Did I come to the wrong house or something? Don’t tell me you mistook me for Father? I told you, he’s been gone for a while because of work.”

“I’m not waiting for Father.”

“Then who?”

“We need to talk, Brother.”

“I’m tired, you know. I’ve been assisting Father with work nonstop, and just now I got stuck with that boring Count Renier.”

At the familiar name in his words, Emeline’s eyes briefly twitched. Foolish and selfish as she might be, that was a name she didn’t want to hear right now.

Under the label of “fiancé” and the burden of interfamily dealings, it only made her feel more lost.

“Don’t tell me this is about Mathis Renier.”

Catching her stiffened expression in a flash, Antony narrowed his eyes.

Emeline looked at him with sunken eyes, neither affirming nor denying it, and repeated herself. “We need to talk.”

Antony stared at her meaningfully, then let out a short sigh. “Fine. What is it?”

His attitude, gesturing for her to speak already, made Emeline frown.

“Not here.”

“Alright. Let’s move, then.”

Only then, as if finally catching on, Antony moved to a quieter place.

It wasn’t until they entered a tightly enclosed empty parlor that Emeline opened her mouth.

“Why did you meet with Mathis?”

Emeline knew that Antony and Mathis were not particularly close.

They had graduated from the same university and used to associate in those days, but now Antony merely referred to him stiffly as “Count Renier.”

‘They’re not people who meet often. But if they met at a time like this… could it be they talked about me?’

But contrary to Emeline’s suspicions, Antony replied indifferently.

“He said we should attend the university’s centennial to set an example for the juniors. Doesn’t that guy ever get busy?”

Grumbling, Antony frowned. If he had that much free time, he should’ve gone alone instead of dragging busy people into it.

Hearing even his grumbles, Emeline lost all strength.

She had been nervous that Mathis might have spoken about her relationship with Zenon—but now she laughed quietly.

She must’ve underestimated that man who always strictly separated public and private matters.

Of course, he wouldn’t reveal something as sensitive as an engagement to others.

Even if the other person was his fiancée’s older brother and his own friend, Antony.

“This can’t be what you called me here to ask. What is it?” Antony tilted his head slightly, one hand in his pocket.

Emeline pursed her lips before speaking without hesitation, “I want to know what happened four years ago.”

“What?”

“Specifically, about the letter I received… I want to know about that. I got a letter from Zenon four years ago. And I sent one too.”

“……”

“But then, why were the letters Zenon and I received completely different in content?”

At some point, Emeline no longer concealed the hostility in her eyes.

She had already made up her mind. That it was her father and her brother who had tampered with their letters.

No one else would’ve manipulated them so maliciously.

Knowing that, Emeline had waited for Antony ever since she realized yesterday that something was wrong with the letters between her and Zenon.

“You told me to live my own life. Then tell me what you know.”

She pressed the silent Antony.

His expression didn’t look good. Seeing that only solidified Emeline’s conviction.

After a long silence, Antony finally spoke.

“So, you met Zenon Trancium.”

“…I did. Yesterday.”

He would’ve heard everything through the watchers anyway.

Maybe he hadn’t seen clearly in that downpour, but he would’ve at least known the two had crossed paths.

Antony let out a long sigh, then looked at Emeline with a gaze unfamiliar to her.

“So that’s what you want to know?”

Emeline was momentarily taken aback. It was because in Antony’s eyes—usually so arrogant and self-important—there now lingered a deep complexity and guilt.

When she gave a reluctant nod, Antony finally opened his mouth.

“Yeah, hiding it has been a burden too. That letter you said you received four years ago—it wasn’t written by Zenon Trancium.”

“……”

“And I doubt the letter Zenon Trancium received was really written by you, either.”

They had both been fakes, produced by ghostwriters the Duke had brought in at great expense during the time Emeline was being confined four years ago.

Around then, Antony had noticed that Emeline was paying an unusual amount of attention to a particular tree outside her room.

It was a tree planted in her childhood at the Duchess’s instruction.

Her mother had told her the tree would take away all her nightmares and bring her luck. Emeline had grown up with it.

So Antony had found it strange but assumed she was just feeling sentimental.

Until the day he saw a servant pulling a letter out of that tree.

That was when Antony immediately realized Emeline and Zenon Trancium had been secretly exchanging heartfelt letters through a small crevice in that tree and via the servant.

And he had promptly reported it to their father.

He believed it was the right thing to do—something that would protect Emeline’s dignity and future.

That delinquent, wrapped in scandal and impropriety, would only end up hurting her in the end.

But not long after, Antony began to regret his actions bit by bit.

He had thought their father would simply cut off the means of communication between Emeline and Zenon Trancium—but instead, he began doing even crueler things.

He hired several skilled ghostwriters and silenced them with large sums of money.

Then he retrieved the letters from their secret exchange point and created forgeries so convincing that both would be fooled.

Those ghostwriters spent about a week perfecting the task—replicating the handwriting and mimicking the tone so precisely it was indistinguishable.

He had one of the well-bribed servants deliver the fake letters so that they would be received by Emeline and Zenon as if nothing was amiss.

“This is all for your sister.”

“…Is that so?”

Just like with Emeline, their father had always played a major role in shaping Antony’s worldview.

Antony had never imagined the consequences of their father’s actions would be so severe.

He had expected Emeline to feel betrayed by Zenon Trancium, but not that her entire will to live would be broken.

And then, as if on cue, Zenon Trancium left to study abroad. Everything became irreversible.

Thus, while Antony began to harbor doubts about their father’s wrongdoing, he could only try to console Emeline in his own way.

He tried to convince her that Zenon Trancium was truly someone harmful to her.

Having grown up under pressure to always please their father, Antony rationalized it as the right thing to do.

Like their father said, it was for his sister’s sake.

But that rationalization began to fall apart when, after four years, Emeline crossed paths with Zenon again.

Because of the guilt.

Every time Emeline looked as though she scorned Zenon, yet a hint of longing still remained, Antony felt his conscience sting again and again.

In the end, Antony accepted that their father had been wrong.

None of this had ever been for his sister’s sake. He had only ruined her life.

“……”

Emeline, who had been listening to the full account of the past four years, kept making a pained, distorted expression.

Feeling he had added too many unnecessary details, Antony said it plainly again.

“Father and I forged them. The letters.”

Emeline did not look shocked or angry.

What showed on her face was a heavy, crushing despair—as though the weight of it was pressing down on her frail frame.

Even though she had suspected it, the shock of realizing that the world she had trusted in for the last four years was a lie left her reeling.

And the devastation of knowing all that long, painful time had been built on something false.

“Ha….”

At the end of the silence, Emeline let out a brief sound—whether a scoff or a sob, it was impossible to tell.

Antony couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

Because at that moment, Emeline had just realized she had lost four years of her life to a lie.