Chapter 115

Her Smile and His Regret

The ride back was mostly silent, which unnerved Nick. Martell was deeply in though and Illumca was more silent than before as she weighed the token the old Mage gave her.

“Milady, how are you feeling?” Nick asked with a look of concern, as his employer had been silent since they got on the carriage. “It must be hard meeting your aunt so suddenly.”

“Hmm? Well, you can say that…” Connie said off-handedly. Indeed, her aunt was on her mind at that moment. But it was not something sentimental, as she was not Cornelia, which was why neither Illumca nor Martell questioned her about it. It was something more akin to curiosity. Especially her connection with the secretive Prince Elhart.

“Did you know her, Nick?”

“No, I’d only heard bits about her in the servant’s gossips. She is a bit of a taboo subject. And I’ve only served that shi – I mean your father a few years after her being disowned. But I can see that she had little love for Geno.”

“Mmm...indeed,” Connie rubbed her chin thoughtfully. After a while, she turned her eyes to him “Nick. After we arrive at the mansion, meet me in my room. We need to talk.”

“Really? At this time of night? Won’t Illumca be -.”

“It’s about my promise.”

Hearing that, the man’s obvious attempt at cracking a lascivious joke failed as his eyes grew stern.

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When they arrived at the mansion, Nick followed Connie to her room. When he was about to sit on the bed, she threw him a glare that made him squirm. Wordlessly, she took out a book from within her Item Ring.

It was leather-bound, with the type of binding reserved only for the highly affluent. And there was age on the leather. That, and distinct traces of water damage that crinkled the edges of the yellowing pages.

“During my stay in Courandhel, Illumca purloined for me some books from the family library,” she told him. “Most of them were useless. But among them, I found some books of interest. Which I think will interest you.”

“These are…” he was about to ask her when she noticed the name inscribed on the right edge of the cover in small, golden letters. “…!”

“Yes. This is Marie Gillenpsie’s – my mother’s diary.”

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“M- may I…?”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Go ahead. But read it here,” Connie said meaningfully.

“Thank you.”

Nick took off his gloves and gently picked up the book; his thumb gently caressing the name printed on the cover with a nostalgic look, his eyes glassy from the emotion he had long forgotten. For a moment, his gruff and jaded expression was replaced with that of an awkward, loving smile.

Though he was a vulgar man, Nick was not illiterate and had formal training in writing. The penmanship within the book was in beautiful cursive form, as was popular in the Noble circles. He knew them well. The peculiar way her l’s would end halfway; how she did her dot; Oh, how he knew them.

Today, I went to the lake with my husband. We took a ride on his mighty steed and galloped through a field of flowers.

And on another day…

My friends took me to a new tailor in the city. He had such beautiful dresses! Oh, how I wish Geno could see me in them!

Or…

Such a dreadful day. We were planning to go on a picnic, but it had been raining since morning! Thankfully I have my little Connie with me.

Then he found a passage that told him of one of the letters she wrote after giving birth to Cornelia

I missed that awful guard with the scraggly beard. I wished he could have met my little Connie.

At this, he let out a small chuckle.

Each page was filled with day-to-day recollections of Marie’s days. The tea she drunk with her friends, the days spent on a picnic or an outing to the tailors, how she missed her husband. Even the lows were recorded in detail.

Marie was a dutiful wife, Nick knew that she was, so when she mentioned that she wanted to know the history of her new family better, he skimmed over it. After that page, most of the others were about her findings in the Royal Library.

But after that page, with each page turned, Nick’s brows furrowed, and he slowly but certainly grew more and more agitated as he flipped faster and faster through the pages.

What were beautiful and neat letters were slowly beginning to distort. With each page, the words became harsher, shorter. They were filled with words of fear and paranoia. At the end of it, the letters were nothing more than a scribble. He could only imagine how scared she was.

Nick was in such fury that his fingers were trembling, and his voice sounded like the painful grunts of a wounded animal.

“Milady…!” he forced out the words.

“Yes. I know,” Connie gave her affirmation. “My mother’s death was no accident. I assumed that the reason that her life was taken…had something to do with what she found out from the Royal Library.”

“Then we have to go there!”

“Calm yourselves, Nick. This is why I want you to read it here. To stop you from doing anything rash,” she continued. “Going to the Castle during these times is a sensitive issue. Even during normal times, the only way Nobles could visit the Castle is if they have an invitation or have an official reason to be there. At this time, I have neither.”

“So, how - !”

“As I said, we need to wait for a reason. Such as…an award for a certain newly minted hero.”

“Oh…oh, I see,” the man was still very much on edge, but he could still see sense. “Yes. That would be…that would be better. Sorry.”

“Are you fine now?” Connie asked. The man’s hand was still squeezing tight the diary that was in his hand. When he noticed that, he reluctantly handed it over to her.

“No. Keep it. My mother would’ve wanted you to have it,” Connie said with a nod. Although the diary belonged to Cornelia’s birth mother, to her, that diary might as well belonged to a stranger. but to Nick, they were unbearably precious. It was a small price to pay to earn his loyalty.

“Are you – are you sure?”

“Yes,” Connie waved her hand dismissively. “You can go now. I am sure you need some time to…digest the information.”

“Yes,” he said weakly. “Yes. Thank you.”

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That night, Nick flipped through the pages of the diary with the help of a small candle.

Again, and again.

And again.

Memories came into his mind. A bitter smile upon his lips. His expressions changed as he turned the pages. Each time more vivid than before. But he dared not turn to the latter pages, else he was not sure if he could endure the anger and the regret.

To him, that book contained his regret, but also happiness. And yet he could not think of letting it go.

Suddenly, the man buckled his knees and hugged the diary tight.

“Ahg…I’m sorry, Milady…aah…I…should’ve been…urgh…”