Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 17
In the Arcturus domain, rumors about the ‘crazy mother and daughter’ were rampant.
A woman who arrived swollen with pregnancy and with her tongue cut out naturally attracted attention. Although she occasionally wrote that she was a noble, the woman never managed to remember her own family name or her husband’s.
As though possessed, she would only scream incoherently, her green eyes wild, unable to articulate with her mutilated tongue.
And there was never any news of a husband or family searching for the missing woman.
People even speculated whether she was a maid who bore her master’s child and was punished for it.
And so, the woman gave birth alone to an unremarkable child.
In Celestica, such actions were frowned upon regardless of one’s class. Nevertheless, the Arcturus family kept the woman and her newborn daughter in the domain.
The reason was that this mother and daughter served as a useful lesson to the domain’s people: that anyone’s life could sink as low as theirs, so they should be content with their current lot.
However, while the mother’s notoriety was high, the daughter was relatively obscure.
As if wishing to erase her existence, she kept her head down and avoided people. This was also why Charles hadn’t recognized the hooded shepherdess when she first approached.
But Izar, seeing Charles’ puzzled expression, frowned.
“I saw her frequently wandering the hills near the castle. It was hard not to notice, especially a female shepherd like her.”
“Ah…”
“Forget it. Prepare to return to the domain as soon as possible.”
“Wouldn’t you like to stay longer, Milord?”
“Hardly. I have no desire to linger and create more problems.”
Izar suppressed his temper and shook his head. What was the point of showing his face here and there?
After being hailed as the ‘comet’, why fall back to earth as ‘the man who married an illegitimate ducal lady’?
“It’s enough for today. Everyone can leave.”
The retainers stood up at their lord’s command, though none of them concealed their dissatisfaction. Indeed, had Izar not forewarned them, they might have sparked a brawl at the wedding.
As Izar left the office, the head butler approached him.
“Milord, where shall we prepare your bedchamber for tonight?”
“I’ll return to my usual room. It’ll be the same when we’re back in the domain.”
“Yes.”
Tonight, and for all the nights to come, he would never share a room with that shepherd woman. Not losing his temper at her was as much as he could muster for now.
But just as he was passing the bridal chamber, he paused.
“Milord?”
“Wait a moment.”
Though the butler sounded puzzled, Izar quietly turned the doorknob.
Was it curiosity to see if she was still awake? It was hard to articulate exactly why this mattered.
‘Like checking if a doused fire might reignite?’
Or to catch her scheming in the act?
But when he opened the door, she was not waiting for him.
Instead, the woman had curled up in a chair at the small table where they had talked and fallen asleep.
She looked like a small animal hibernating, and a sarcastic laugh escaped him.
“Absolutely ridiculous.”
And at the same time, his temples began to throb. Even her sleeping form irritated his already frayed nerves.
‘Surely, even this posture isn’t calculated?’
Her appearance was so pitiful, yet she was a peculiar woman who made it impossible to feel pure sympathy for her.
The moonlight, momentarily hidden behind black clouds, now cast a shadow over the woman’s face.
As Izar looked at her face, slightly illuminated by the moonlight, he inwardly clicked his tongue.
‘She’s far from beautiful.’
Her skin, exposed to harsh elements, bore a light brown hue, and her flaxen brown hair was a far cry from a lustrous blonde. Perhaps due to a life of hardship from a young age, her stature was also small compared to others her age.
The only redeeming feature might be her large green eyes.
If they had sparkled appropriately for her age, they might have been likened to the leaves of summer. But even they occasionally held a haggard gaze, like that of an old woman’s, rendering them useless.
Izar’s mouth twisted into an increasingly distasteful smirk.
“Her younger sister is called the ‘Rose of the Capital’, huh…”
This woman, whose name itself was derived from a flower, was nothing but a plain wildflower compared to the glamorous Atria.
A wildflower with its stem broken by harsh rain, so insignificant that no one would miss it if it wouldn’t bloom next year.
Yet, he had known this woman from before.
“…….”
Izar folded his arms and silently observed her.
He once knew her as the pitiful daughter of the madwoman.
Occasionally, he saw her as a child, bruised on the face, limping with a water jug.
Later, she became a small shepherdess, struggling to manage even a small flock.
‘And then, a foolish woman who fell into a lake and didn’t even try to swim out.’
Despite his scornful smirk, remembering when he was eighteen brought a frown to his forehead.
It was unlike him, but why had she caught his eye that year?
But the memories of that year were so unpleasant that Izar forced himself to stop recalling them.
