Chapter 8: What Cannot Be Taken Back
“I would like my wife to be returned.”
In the royal audience chamber, Duke Alberto Glanz began with those words.
The chancellor seated before him looked up from his documents.
His graying brows slowly lifted.
“…Your wife, ‘returned’?”
“My former wife.
The divorce has been finalized, but the ducal ledgers remain sealed by her magic and cannot be deciphered.
At the very least, I would like her to return once to decode them.”
The chancellor returned his gaze to the documents.
He read in silence for a while.
“Duke Glanz.
If this is a matter of ledgers, would it not suffice to request the royal family to dispatch an administrator?”
“A rune book administrator cannot be deciphered by anyone other than the individual.
The handover ceremony—”
“It was your side that did not request that handover, was it not?”
Alberto’s mouth closed.
The chancellor adjusted his glasses and continued calmly.
“There is no legal basis under current law to order a divorced former spouse to return.
Or—was your former wife the property of the ducal house?”
The air in the audience chamber turned cold.
The attending clerk lowered his gaze.
Alberto attempted to respond, then stopped.
He gave a polite bow and withdrew.
The chancellor watched his back over his documents.
“…A ducal house that cannot function over a single ledger.
It only proves how capable the duchess was.”
The remark reached only the clerk’s ears.
Three days later, a letter bearing the royal crest arrived in the Weiss territory.
“Regarding the ledger management of the Glanz ducal territory, we would like to confirm certain circumstances.
Please inform us of a convenient date.
—Royal Inspection Bureau”
It was not a summons.
Merely a “confirmation of circumstances.”
But bearing the royal crest, it could not be ignored.
I took the letter to Lucas’s office.
I knocked.
Ever since that day—since the evening I cried in that office—my heart began to jump slightly whenever I knocked on this door.
Troublesome.
“Come in.”
Lucas was writing something on a map.
He looked at my face and set down his pen.
“A letter has arrived from the royal family.”
I handed it to him.
Lucas read it, and his expression hardened slightly.
“…So Duke Glanz appealed to the royal family.”
“It seems so.
He requested that I be returned to decipher the ledgers.”
“Has an order for your return been issued?”
“No.
Only a confirmation of circumstances.
There is no legal force.”
“Then you can ignore it.”
“…Politically, it is not so simple.
If we ignore a royal letter, it will affect the Weiss territory as well.
I would cause you trouble—”
“Do not worry about me.”
He cut me off briefly.
He placed the letter on the table.
Lucas stood from his chair and walked to the window.
He faced away from me.
“…Serena.”
Just my name.
No title.
Since that night, this sometimes happened.
He would return to “Lady Serena” soon after, but occasionally, my name slipped out.
“It is your life.”
His voice was low.
Still looking out the window.
“Whether you return or not is for you to decide.
Not for me.”
That was correct.
I thought those were correct words.
But—
I could see his right hand at his side, clenched into a fist.
Tightly.
So tight it turned white.
(…It’s trembling.)
His fist trembled faintly.
Though he said, “You decide,” his body said something else.
This person—
He cannot say, do not go.
It is not that he chooses not to say it.
He cannot.
Because he respects my freedom, he suppresses his own feelings.
An awkward person.
“…Lucas.”
“What is it?”
“Please give me a little time to think.”
“…Alright.”
His fist was still trembling.
That night, I sat in my room, hugging my knees.
I was thinking about Leon.
If the ducal ledgers cannot be read, the territory’s management will fail.
If management fails, the lives of the people will become difficult.
It might affect Leon’s life as well.
(If I return just once and perform the handover ceremony, would that not resolve it?)
A part of me thought that.
(No.
If I return once, it is over.
They will say, “See, you can come back after all.”
“Please” will turn into “I order you.”
My name will be erased again, and I will remain in the shadows of the ledgers—)
I know.
I know, and yet Leon’s face comes to mind.
His breakfast.
His homework.
His sleeping face.
My thoughts circle endlessly.
No answer comes.
—Tonight, the tea did not come.
The warm cup that should have already been at the edge of my desk was not there.
(…Did he pull away because of that confession?
Perhaps it was too heavy.
Seven years of secrets, told like that—)
I want to think otherwise.
But the absence of the tea pierced coldly into my chest.
Just having that tea allowed me to work through the night.
Someone was awake.
Someone was thinking of me.
That alone had supported me more than I realized.
(…Ah.
I had come to rely on that tea.)
I realized it.
Not the tea itself.
The person who prepared it.
I remained still, hugging my knees.
As I was about to leave the room, I noticed something at my feet.
A single flower had been placed in front of the door.
A white flower.
Its stem cut short, placed in a small bottle of water.
The cut was neat.
The cut of someone accustomed to handling a sword.
(…It’s beautiful.)
I crouched and picked it up.
Dew clung to its petals.
When had it been placed there?
Just now, or—
I did not know the flower’s name.
But I felt like I had seen it somewhere.
At the market, perhaps.
Or in a garden.
A small white flower that looked strong enough not to break even when swaying in the wind.
I brought it into the room and placed it in the vase on my desk.
Beside the wildflower from last week.
(The tea did not come.
But the flower did.)
In place of words.
I do not know exactly what Lucas is trying to convey.
But—
The man who said, “It is your life,” while his fist trembled, left a flower at my door in the night.
That alone felt like I had already received half my answer.
Outside the window, the sea wind howled.
The next morning, Hannes rushed into the accounting room with a hurried expression.
“Lady Serena!
There’s an update from the royal family.
Regarding the ledger issue in the Glanz territory—they’ve decided to conduct their own audit.”
“…An audit?”
“It seems that because of the duke’s appeal, the royal family judged that there may be irregularities in the territory’s financial reports themselves.”
I took the letter.
The seal of the Royal Inspection Bureau.
The tide had changed.
Lord Alberto.
By appealing for your “wife to be returned”—
The royal family did not move as your ally.
On the desk, the white flower swayed faintly.