That night, Julius barely closed his eyes.
Whenever he shut them, what surfaced in his mind wasn’t the wretched sight of the man in the black robe’s final moments, but rather Helos’s silent back as she turned away.
The last whispered words from Eleanor before she left echoed in his ears like nails hammered into wood, making him toss and turn.
Dawn had only just begun to lighten the sky when he pushed open his door.
The corridor was silent, with only the maids moving about quietly, tending to their daily chores.
As he passed, everyone offered him a slight curtsy, but no one asked where he was headed.
Julius went straight to Eleanor’s room.
The door was tightly shut, guarded by two maids outside. Seeing him approach, they bowed slightly. One of them softly spoke:
“The young lady has just woken up. Do you have urgent business with her?”
“Mm.”
Julius nodded.
Not long after, a weary voice came from inside the door:
“Come in.”
He pushed the door open and entered. The air inside carried a faint fragrance.
The heavy curtains were not yet fully drawn; morning light slipped through the gaps, casting a long stripe across the carpet.
Eleanor sat on the edge of her bed, draped in a light-colored nightgown.
Her golden hair was a bit disheveled—clearly, she hadn’t slept well either.
Hearing his footsteps, she looked up at Julius, her eyes tired, but quickly veiled with coldness.
“You!”
Eleanor’s voice carried a trace of anger as she spoke, “Who gave you permission to take Helos to a place like that?”
Julius stood in front of her, not dodging.
He only answered calmly:
“I didn’t bring her. She followed on her own.”
Eleanor’s brows furrowed even deeper, her gaze stabbing over like a sharp sword.
Yet Julius did not back down. He took a deep breath and continued:
“But if she hadn’t secretly followed us, all three of us might have died there last night.”
That sentence left the air in the room silent for a moment.
Julius slowly recounted what had happened the previous night—from how they had encountered the enemy, to the details of Helos’s actions at the crucial moment.
He told it all plainly, without embellishment, nor any deliberate justification.
Eleanor’s fingers clutched the bedsheet tightly.
She listened intently, her expression shifting from initial anger to grave contemplation.
When Julius finished, she didn’t speak right away. She just bowed her head and let out a gentle breath.
“So, she saved you all.”
Eleanor’s voice had lowered.
Julius nodded:
“Yes.”
Eleanor was silent for a long time before finally lifting her head.
Her eyes still showed displeasure, but compared to her earlier sharpness, it had eased considerably.
The anger between her brows still lingered, but now it had faded by more than half.
Julius seized the opportunity and cautiously spoke:
“My lady… yesterday, the atmosphere between you and Miss Helos seemed to have a deeper reason.”
Eleanor’s gaze paused.
I feel,
Julius chose his words with care, “It seems like there’s… something between you two that the rest of us don’t know.”
Eleanor didn’t answer right away.
She lowered her eyes, rubbing the cuff of her outer robe with her fingers, as if weighing something.
Time ticked by, until even Julius began to wonder if he had overstepped, when she finally spoke softly.
“You’re right.”
Her voice was very soft, tinged with helplessness. “There really are some secrets between us.”
Julius stood quietly where he was, not pressing her.
Eleanor took a deep breath, as if making up her mind.
Her gaze grew resolute as she looked at Julius:
“Since you’ve already noticed, I’ll tell you part of it.”
“But remember to keep your mouth shut, understand?”
Julius felt his chest tighten slightly, but he didn’t flinch. He only nodded:
“Don’t worry, my lady.”
Eleanor pressed her lips together, her gaze drifting away as if looking through the gap in the curtains to a past even farther away than the dawn.
“You should know, Helos is regarded as the ‘Cursed Girl’.”
Her voice dropped, with a heavy sigh. “But to tell the truth, a few years ago—when we were all younger—people’s attitude toward her… at least on the surface, was still more or less accepting.”
She paused for a moment, as if steadying her breath.
“Until four years ago, when I heard that my mother’s death was connected to her.”
Julius held his breath, not interrupting, quietly listening.
Eleanor slowly stood up and walked to the window.
Morning light shone on the side of her face, but couldn’t dispel the gloom.
She raised her hand and pointed toward the courtyard not far away:
“See that garden over there? Isn’t it lush and thriving?”
Julius followed her gaze. The flowers were in full bloom, vines hanging from the carved arch, everything tranquil and beautiful.
He nodded.
“But before, it wasn’t just a garden—it was a small park with a pond.”
Eleanor’s voice remained calm.
Julius was momentarily taken aback:
“Then… what about the pond?”
“It was filled in.”
Eleanor answered softly, “My father did it himself.”
“Because Helos nearly drowned in that pond.”
“What?!”
Julius exclaimed.
Eleanor slowly closed her eyes, as if unwilling to recall it, yet forced to speak:
“That day, I overheard some servants’ idle talk and learned the truth about my mother’s death.”
“My head got hot, and I ran alone to find Helos, who was daydreaming by the pond. I accused her of being the murderer, the cause of my mother’s death—that it was because of her I lost my mother the moment I was born.”
She paused, her voice growing hoarser:
“But then, she only looked at me quietly. Her eyes were full of sorrow, but not a trace of intention to defend herself.”
“She didn’t say a word, as if she’d known about this all along.”
Julius’s throat tightened; he could imagine the scene.
Eleanor placed her hand on the windowsill, her fingertips trembling slightly:
“I don’t know what she was thinking then, but I had completely lost my head. And that curse on her made me dizzy… In the end, I actually pushed her into the pond with my own hands.”
“The moment I pushed her, I was frozen on the spot.”
The girl’s voice was so soft it was nearly carried away by the wind, her fingers digging into the windowsill.
“I wanted to call for help, but my throat felt blocked by something—I couldn’t make a sound, or even move my feet. Maybe… I was just too scared, and the curse on her was acting up too.”
She took a deep breath, her chest rising unevenly:
“In the end, I passed out right there on the shore.”
“When I woke up, I was already lying in my own bed. Father’s people had brought me back.”
Eleanor bowed her head, her golden hair covering half her eyes.
“Luckily…Helos survived.”
Her voice finally trembled just a bit at that moment:
“They said Uncle Ron happened to be passing by and heard the splash—he jumped in and rescued her from the brink of death.”
Julius held his breath, his chest tightening painfully.
“But after that, she was gravely ill.”
Eleanor went on, her voice tinged with hesitation.
“Magic was completely useless for her, and although potions worked, they brought excruciating pain. The church said she was always hovering on the edge of death at that time.”
She lowered her eyes, her lashes trembling:
“I still can’t forget that time. Every day, I thought she might never wake up again.”
“Back then, everyone kept comforting me, saying it wasn’t my fault.”
Eleanor closed her eyes gently, her voice squeezed from the depths of her throat, “But only Father…He called me to his study.”
She paused, unconsciously touching her own cheek:
“It seemed he had already guessed the truth.”
“And when I confessed, he didn’t hesitate to slap me.”
Eleanor shuddered, as if still feeling that burning pain, “That was the one and only time Father ever raised his hand to me.”
Heh. He really does care.