Adopt 175

175
I made sure Leo had firmly covered both his eyes and ears, then turned to face Sir Cherry.

In his crimson eyes, I could see emotions seething like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

All I had done was meet his gaze.

“It’s because I love you, my lady.”

His confession from that day lingered in my ears, tickling them.

It felt as if I were about to crush a red flower that had finally bloomed after a winter spent holding its breath, but I opened my mouth to speak.

“Sir Cherry, to be honest, I don’t…”

While I was recovering in bed, I had searched for the words to reject his feelings.

Back then, it hadn’t seemed so difficult.

But now, with him standing before me, the words caught in my throat.

I thought I had neatly defined my feelings for him, but when I tried to say them aloud, my certainty collapsed.

To say I didn’t like him—that would be a lie, because I had already made space for him in some corner of my heart.

And yet, to say that I liked him as anything more…

‘I don’t know.’

Knowing my own heart was far harder than knowing someone else’s.

In the end, rather than the answer I’d so long rehearsed, I said something else entirely.

“I… I don’t like you with the same weight that you like me.”

“Yes. I understand.”

Sir Cherry nodded without a single sign of being hurt.

His calm reaction left me, instead, taken aback.

I studied his expression closely, then asked, somewhat suspiciously,

“…You really understand, don’t you?”

“Yes. I shall do my best.”

Just as I thought—he hadn’t understood a thing!

“You don’t need to do anything. This is an issue of my own heart.”

“But if I don’t even try, I don’t see how I’ll ever win your heart, my lady.”

“…”

“If you’d rather I didn’t even make that effort, please tell me. I will… do my utmost to restrain myself.”

What on earth did he download into his brain while I was recovering that he’s suddenly able to break my composure with every word?

Caught off guard by Sir Cherry’s suddenly advanced verbal skills, I fiddled with the ring on my finger out of habit.

His whole life had been one of patience. That made it hard for me to tell him flatly to hold back.

But what if my answer only gave him needless hope, or left room for misunderstanding?

No—wait. Why is it so bad to leave him with some hope?

I once heard that as long as you think you could kiss someone, there’s always a chance for romance.

Whatever the circumstances, I had already kissed him, hadn’t I?

So doesn’t that mean there’s a decent chance something more could happen?

‘But then what?’

I was the Marchioness of Blanche, and he was the Grand Duke of Valua-Shuten.

As the heads of our respective families, we couldn’t marry solely based on personal feelings.

‘Why am I even taking it for granted that marriage is the end point?’

In my head, permission and refusal were locked in a fierce tug of war. And then, with a single word, Sir Cherry cut straight through the knot.

“My lady, am I not even permitted to try?”

As he asked, I could almost see a large dog begging for a treat behind him.

His face remained expressionless, yet—

I broke into a cold sweat, stammering helplessly.

“Th-that’s… I mean… trying is…”

Can he? Can’t he?

Not even I knew what I was going to say.

Mouth opening and closing without knowing what words might tumble out—

“No—”

“Is it all right to open my eyes now?”

Leo, who had remained quiet all this time, asked timidly.

I seized the lifeline with relief and nodded at him.

“Of course! You can open them now, Leo.”

Please, Leo, open your eyes and save me!

But, alas, Leo, with his eyes and ears tightly shut, neither heard nor saw my permission.

“Lady Belinda? Sir Knight?”

“My lady.”

“You’re both there, aren’t you? Can I open my eyes?”

“Permission…”

With both of them pressing for my answer from either side, I finally yelled, half out of my mind,

“Yes! You can!”

I wasn’t sure myself if I was replying to Leo or Sir Cherry.

The next moment, Leo’s eyes flew open wide.

“I’ll do my best.”

Sir Cherry replied mildly, with a faint smile.

Stunned, I simply blinked, then turned my face to the window.

My face was so hot I needed the cold air desperately.

---

Our destination was a place called “Penfel Sea.”

They told me it was just a little to the west of the castle, but as far as I knew, there was no sea near Valua-Shuten Castle.

So I had wondered why the name “sea” had been attached to the flower called Penfel, but as soon as we arrived, the answer was clear.

“Woooooow.”

Leo gaped in awe at the sight outside the window.

I was no different.

The blue flower fields stretched to the horizon, so vast they could easily be mistaken for the sea itself.

And when the wind blew, the swaying stalks looked just like rolling waves.

The carriage stopped near a solitary tree standing in the middle of the flower field.

The castle staff who had traveled in another carriage quickly and deftly set up a small table and chairs and arranged a simple tea service before disappearing with a military precision that spoke of their determination not to intrude on us.

Feeling a little awkward about their discretion, I nevertheless took a seat.

Leo sat beside me, munching on a simple sandwich or snack, but soon shifted into the flower field, where he began busily working on something.

Taking advantage of Leo’s distraction with the Penfel flowers, I spoke up.

“I’ve spoken to Leo. We’ll keep his origins secret for now.”

The day Leo heard the truth about his parents in the Black Swan’s chamber.

Though he was subdued, Leo did not cry in secret, nor did he seem obviously sad.

That wasn’t because their story didn’t sadden him, but because it likely still felt unreal.

That his parents were dead, that he was of the Valua-Shuten blood, that Sir Cherry was his uncle—

Someday, when Leo was older and more at ease, he might begin to think seriously about his parents and his own origins.

For now, we decided to keep it secret.

Until Leo grew enough not to be swept up by events, until he was strong enough to speak of his parents in his own words.

“Did the child show any signs of recovering lost memories?”

At Sir Cherry’s question, I shook my head.

His gaze fell on Leo, who sat amid the blue flowers, fiddling with something.

Every summer when the north warmed, Leo’s parents used to bring him here several times a week.

It was a place full of memories, but Leo still recalled nothing of the past.

Only Leo knew exactly what had happened that day, six years ago.

How he managed to escape the castle safely, what his relationship was with the Harpers—those answers were in his memory. But neither Sir Cherry nor I dared to probe those memories.

We couldn’t be sure whether recovering them would help Leo, or harm him.

In the memories Leo had lost, he was a five-year-old, perfectly happy under his parents’ love—but he had also lost his parents and had to leave his home at five.

Whether those memories would be a poison or a balm, we didn’t know.

At that moment, as if sensing our gaze, Leo leapt to his feet.

He hurried over, carrying a ring woven from Penfel flowers.

The blossoms were so small, weaving them must have been difficult, yet the flower ring he presented to me was finely made.

“I wanted to make you a flower crown at first, but…”

Grateful for the child’s thoughtfulness, I accepted the ring and asked,

“Who taught you how to make flower rings?”

“I could make them from the start—maybe since I was born?”

Leo puffed up with pride, exaggeration written all over his face, and Sir Cherry froze.

Glancing at him, I slipped off my own ring and carefully put on the flower ring, taking pains not to crush the petals.

“Anything looks good on me, but this looks especially good.”

I tapped Leo lightly on the nose, joking, but saw Sir Cherry’s gaze drawn to the ring I had taken off.

Perfect timing.

I handed the ring with the blue stone back to Sir Cherry and asked,

“You’ll come back to the capital with me, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

Despite the clarity of his answer, there was a distinct regret in Sir Cherry’s expression as he took the ring.

Having returned the token of our agreement to Sir Cherry, we returned to the castle.

Just as I was about to go to my room, Sir Cherry stopped me with some hesitation.

“My lady. I can make them too, actually.”

“…Make what?”

“Flower rings.”

“Oh, is that so.”

Was he looking for praise?

I tilted my head, and Sir Cherry fished something out of his inner pocket.

Resting in his large palm was a ring he had made from Penfel flowers, the petals slightly crushed.

“One summer, your ladyship—meaning Leo’s mother—sat the three of us down and taught us how to weave flower rings.”

As if capturing a drifting seed, he gently took my hand in his.

“She said that any real man should be able to make a ring with his own hands, if only to give it to a woman.”

Sir Cherry’s flower ring fit my finger perfectly, as if it had been crafted just for me.

His gesture was so natural that I simply stared, unable to think of stopping him.

At last, bringing the flower ring to his lips, Sir Cherry brushed it softly with a kiss and murmured,

“It’s not as good as Leo’s, but it suits you very well.”

“…”

A moment too late, I realized that he’d placed the ring on my left hand’s fourth finger—the engagement ring finger—and I hastily pulled my hand away.

“Th—”

“Yes, Lady Blanche.”

“Don’t try too hard, Sir Cherry.”

Throwing the words as if they burned, I hurriedly retreated to my room.

Annoyingly, though my face was blazing red, the flower ring Sir Cherry had kissed was as fresh and vivid as if it had only just bloomed.