Guidelines for the Perfect Goodbye - Chapter 218
At the end of her gaze was a wall. In front of it, a man with a body as solid as the wall itself leaned against it.
The man held a wine glass by the stem, swirling the dark red liquid inside with a casual motion. The crimson liquid spun around the surface of the glass, dancing in circles. The murky, dark hue that it held while gathered together transformed into a clear, transparent color as it spread out. The man seemed to relish the moment the color changed to that pure clarity.
And before long, Caroline recognized him.
It would be stranger if she didn’t. Anyone who’d ever encountered him would be able to recall his face from even a small fragment of it.
Such was the beauty of the man’s appearance. As a boy, he must have often been described as angelically beautiful. Since then, he had left his youth to be weathered by storms, and his once soft and smooth face had gradually taken on a chiseled edge.
Yet, even so, he did not appear aged or worn. Rather, he had simply added the aura of a seasoned, mature man to his already striking features.
The fact that he could possess such skin despite the harsh sun on the open sea was nothing short of miraculous. Surely, a god must have carefully shaped his future with loving care.
‘If only he had been the legitimate son of the Pierce Duchy.’
If it had been him, and not Christian…
He would surely have been considered the most handsome man in aristocratic society. In fact, even now, if he were to genuinely participate in social events, his reputation could turn around instantly.
‘What a shame…’
But at the thought that had suddenly crossed her mind, Caroline caught herself in surprise.
‘What am I even thinking? Regretting that he isn’t the Duke’s legitimate son…?’
Christian was a wonderful man in his own right. He had a remarkable appearance, not much less impressive than that man’s, and a gift for charming others with his words.
…Even if he couldn’t quite project that same aura.
But that was only natural. Christian would never find himself rolling around in the salty waves of the sea like that man did.
Yes, it was all just idle thinking, just her own selfish wishes.
After all, that man was nothing more than a commoner of complicated background. So…
‘It doesn’t change the fact that Cecilia is marrying a commoner.’
Meanwhile, she would become the matriarch of a ducal house and live a life far more elegant and refined than Cecilia’s.
There was no need to feel wronged or envious.
It wasn’t that man’s face, but his birth itself that set the limits of Cecilia’s future.
‘And as a naval officer, he won’t even be able to properly enjoy his newlywed life.’
Caroline regained her composure and resumed her attitude of pity toward Cecilia.
However, the moment that man lifted his head and his eyes met Cecilia’s in an… intense exchange, Caroline found herself momentarily breathless. Her fingers gripped her arm more tightly.
Only then did Caroline realize that she wasn’t disappointed while comparing Christian to that man.
She had been watching Cecilia all along. She had been showing off her own superiority by focusing on what Cecilia lacked, while, at the same time, enviously drawn to the things Cecilia had, to the point of being captivated.
‘By someone like her.’
Now that she was aware, Caroline couldn’t bring herself to keep watching Cecilia any longer. She turned her head and searched for familiar faces.
Ulysses, Guinevere…
‘The Rosencrantz.’
Both of them were equally uncomfortable company.
Instead, she approached Casey, the host of the party that night.
“Hello, Miss Casey. I’m Caroline Lasphilla, the eldest daughter of Count Lasphilla.”
Even though it was terribly dull to announce her name at a masquerade, she did so anyway. In the capital, introducing herself in this way would usually lead to Christian’s name being mentioned as a natural follow-up.
But Casey was different.
“…Oh! You’re Miss Cecilia’s sister?”
“……”
Caroline’s eyes flashed with a sharp glint, far from the soft gaze she usually maintained.
In that sense, the theme of masks at this party worked in her favor.
* * *
Close to midnight.
Those who had indulged too much in drink were stepping outside occasionally to cool their flushed faces.
One particularly tipsy man staggered his way into the pergola.
Inside, there were already occupants.
“Huh? Who’s…”
The man hiccuped as he identified the figures in the shadows. A pair, intertwined. It was a common, clandestine tryst.
But there was something about the man’s unmasked face that looked familiar.
“…Sir Nigel?”
The other man, who happened to be his superior, looked at him calmly, wiping away lipstick smudged on his chin.
Shocked, the tipsy man glanced over at the woman. She wore a mask, but there was one thing he was sure of.
She was not Casey Heens.
