Eleanor’s fingertips pressed gently on the window ledge, as if she wanted to summon once again those scars long engraved in her memory.
“After that, I started to fear seeing her.”
She spoke in a low voice, “Even just meeting her gaze from afar would make me feel guilty. Because I know, it was by my own hand that I pushed her down. And yet, everyone still comforted me, telling me not to blame myself too much.”
Her tone paused, a bitter smile rising at the corner of her lips:
“Many of the servants didn’t know it was my doing. They only knew I fainted because of her.”
“I was truly afraid that one day she’d speak of what happened.”
Julius held his breath, listening quietly.
“But Father’s slap…made me understand a lot.”
Eleanor clenched her fist, her tone trembling slightly, “Yet he didn’t tell anyone about it, never let a soul know. Even after that, he treated me with greater strictness, but he never laid a hand on me again.”
She slowly raised her head, her gaze falling on the branches and leaves of the distant garden.
“Before that, even though my younger sister rarely appeared, at least she would show up punctually at meal times.”
Eleanor’s voice grew softer, almost self-mocking.
“But ever since that day, she never set foot in the dining hall again.”
“Uncle Ron told me she always sneaked into the kitchen when no one was around, hastily ate a little, and left immediately.”
And all of this…she never uttered a word about. No weeping, no complaints, not even anger. She just quietly accepted everyone’s coldness and distance, as if she was born to endure it all.
At this point, Eleanor’s voice tightened suddenly:
“But I know her heart isn’t made of stone. That day, her eyes were clearly filled with sorrow and pain, but she didn’t say a word! I even started to wonder if she was punishing me in her own way—forcing me to live with guilt forever.”
Julius’s throat felt tight, but still he didn’t interrupt.
“I tried to make amends.”
Eleanor lowered her gaze, her fingers tightly gripping her sleeve, “Secretly sending her food, giving her things she needed, even speaking for her in front of Father on purpose.”
“But her attitude toward me always felt distant—not intentionally cold, but with a true sense of distance.”
She bit her lip, as if forcing herself to go on:
“Just like yesterday in the warehouse. She’d rather turn away than spare me a glance.”
For a while, the air fell silent.
The young lady’s shoulders were visibly trembling, her voice dropping to almost nothing:
“Julius, do you know? More than anger or blame, it’s her silence that frightens me most.”
“When a wound is left on a person’s heart, even if it eventually heals, it will still leave an ugly scar behind.”
The wind outside the window stirred the branches and leaves, and inside the room, only her short, ragged breaths remained.
Julius stood silently in place for a long while, unmoving.
Only now did he truly understand why Eleanor would have him take on this task.
What she bore was not only the identity of the young lady, but also a guilt that had never been forgiven.
Julius clenched his palm, wanting to offer comfort, but couldn’t find the right words for the moment.
He had felt Helos’s silence as well, just last night.
It was not simple coldness, but a barbed shell—one that no one could approach.
“My lady.”
Julius spoke softly, his voice lighter than ever, yet carrying unprecedented resolve.
“Miss Helos…from what I’ve seen these days, she’s not that kind of person.”
He paused, the corners of his lips lifting in a faint smile:
“She’s optimistic, free-spirited, always coming up with ideas no one else would think of. Just like last night—if she hadn’t secretly followed us, the three of us might not have survived.”
“And besides, in private, she’s never spoken a word of complaint against you.”
Julius lifted his eyes to Eleanor, his tone slowing even further, “Have you ever thought that… she might be afraid, too?”
Eleanor’s body gave a slight jolt, her eyes stunned.
She wanted to retort, but it was as if something blocked her throat—her lips pressed tight, breath unsteady.
Julius continued:
“I dare not explain things for her, but at least the person I’ve seen is someone who would rather push herself into danger just to protect others.”
He paused a moment, “She once told me that she always believed the lady’s passing was inseparable from herself—if not for her, perhaps the lady wouldn’t have died.”
“So, if as you say, you pushed her into the pond because of that incident…then I have even more reason to believe she stays away from you out of fear of hurting others again.”
Eleanor’s lashes quivered, a flash of hesitation passing through her gaze.
“My lady, I have no place interfering in what’s between you two. But of one thing I am sure—she still cares about you. If not, she would never have insisted on secretly following, even knowing you’d go in person.”
He paused briefly and added:
“Before this, she’s also repeatedly helped us with plans. I don’t believe she’d want to see those Abyssal Cultists get a chance to harm you either.”
“So, I think…perhaps you two have misunderstood each other all along.”
Julius’s tone softened, as if laying down his final persuasion.
The room fell into brief silence.
Eleanor lowered her eyelids, as if turning his words over and over in her mind.
Her chest rose and fell gently, her eyes first full of struggle, then gradually softening, until only a complex glimmer remained.
“Misunderstood…”
She murmured quietly, the corners of her lips lifting in a bitter smile.
Then she let out a deep breath, as if the weight on her heart had lightened a little.
“You’re right.”
Eleanor slowly raised her head, her expression gradually returning to her usual composure, though a ripple still lingered deep in her eyes.
“Perhaps I really do need to face her again.”
She paused, her voice softening, “But… it’ll take time.”
The young lady’s gaze landed on Julius again, her tone carrying a rare hint of sincerity:
“So, until then… Helos, I’ll leave her to you.”
Helos was lying on her back in the hammock, cloak and mask long since tossed aside, only a loose shirt draped carelessly over her.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, scattered across her face, but she wore no expression—just staring blankly at those green leaves.
“Hah…”
She exhaled softly, as if trying to blow away the shadow of last night, but it refused to scatter.
Just as her mind drifted into a daze, a head suddenly popped into her field of vision.
“Hey.”
“Waah–!”
Helos almost flipped right out of the hammock, flailing her hands wildly before barely regaining her balance.
Her eyes widened, and when she saw the face, her mouth twitched involuntarily.
Julius! Are you insane? Why are you sticking your head over all of a sudden—trying to scare me to death or what?!
“I called you several times and you didn’t respond.”
Julius stood by the hammock, his expression as calm as ever, though the corners of his lips seemed to hold a hint of a smile, “What, are you still savoring the glory of your ‘beauty saves the hero’ story from yesterday?”
These two.