Guidelines for the Perfect Goodbye - Chapter 74
‘How can one always speak the truth? Miss Cecilia must have had her reasons.’
Her reasons.
What reasons could she possibly have to sabotage my plans by lying?
“Uly…”
Caroline’s mouth moved on its own. Louise paused her fluent narration of Western history and turned to look at Caroline.
“Miss?”
“I-It’s nothing.”
Caroline quickly lifted her head, adopting a posture of keen listening. But inside, the doubt cunningly planted by the woman before her was sprouting.
‘Cecilia likes Ulysses.’
That’s why… she interfered.
Unwittingly, she bit down hard on her lower lip until she tasted the bitter tang of blood.
* * *
“In a good mood, huh?”
Ulysses, who had been resting his chin on his hand by the window, relaxed his posture at the sudden question.
“What do you mean?”
Nigel snorted derisively at the honest question.
“You’ve broken off your engagement with Caroline Lasphilla.”
“That was not my doing.”
“But you didn’t oppose it.”
“Was I supposed to?”
Ulysses raised an eyebrow.
“Was there a reason to? My speaking out wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Nigel’s sun-like eyes flashed as they shot Ulysses a glare.
“Without Lasphilla, you’re just the second son of a marquis household. You won’t inherit wealth or titles. I’ll use this opportunity to become the Marquis of Rosencrantz, and I’ll ensure you and your mother get nothing in the future.”
“I am well aware. You’ve already secured your position as successor, haven’t you?”
“How complacent. Now you’ve lost any chance at the Rosencrantz duke’s estate forever. There won’t be an opportunity for you to take any of my rights.”
“Even if there was an opportunity, I wouldn’t be greedy for it.”
“Guinevere would think differently.”
“…My mother.”
Ulysses closed his eyes.
You and your mother, you and your mother.
Why do they keep lumping her and him together in one basket? To simply say it’s because they are mother and son doesn’t suffice, considering how often Ulysses and she have clashed.
Yet, his mother’s greed was still Ulysses’s greed, and her sins were his sins.
“My mother… cannot control my life.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Nigel twisted his lips in a clear mockery. Ulysses turned his face away, resting his chin on his hand again.
Was this why they were riding in the same carriage? To irritate him like this? But such petty scratches did not pain his emotions.
Growing up feeling the disconnect between the child of a commoner and the child of nobility, relying on relatives’ charity, had hardened his face with a tough shell.
To not know when he was hurt, to not feel pain or fever, to live without acknowledging ailments.
It made him dull enough to casually accept even Nigel’s scorn, but at the same time, it seemed as though even the emotions that should be felt were obscured behind a thick curtain.
“…”
Ulysses suddenly frowned.
Something was just out of his grasp. It already had a name, and if called, it seemed it would turn and respond. But Ulysses still didn’t know the name of this emotion that made him feel uncomfortable.
“Cecilia Lasphilla.”
The low voice shot through like an arrow. Cecilia. That name pierced through Ulysses’s chest in an instant. The carriage jolted heavily.
He looked at Nigel with slightly widened eyes, unaware of the strength in his own gaze.
Nigel laughed.
“Now, you’re free to even marry that woman. Congratulations.”
“…”
Ulysses’s eyes gradually lowered. His forehead tensed, and his eyebrows slightly raised.
Unaware of this subtle change, Nigel arrogantly crossed his legs and leaned back against the seat.
“I misspoke. Marrying the sister of your former fiancée would indeed be difficult, so you’re not quite free.”
Ulysses was no longer looking at Nigel. His gaze had reached his shoes. As the carriage gently swayed, he fixed his eyes between the moving shoes and whispered softly,
“Nothing is impossible.”
“What?”
Ulysses said no more. A silence that wouldn’t end for the rest of the journey ensued.
As the carriage turned onto a paved road, the noise from the wheels subsided. Nigel grimaced and tilted his head back.
It was quiet.
Or, it should have been quiet.
“…Damn it.”
He pressed one ear and leaned his head to the side, as if he had swallowed a mouthful of dust, feeling irritation in his throat.
