The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 54
“You can stop working now. There’s no need to tidy up the study anymore.”
Strangely, feeling the approaching hand from behind made her body go rigid. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so because of his equivocal attitude. She simply patted her waist reassuringly.
“You really are quite careless, Count. If I start slacking off, people might get suspicious.”
“Can you just stop calling me Count, Layla?”
He whined in a tone that didn’t match his size. Layla turned her head, only to find herself so close that their noses almost touched, so she quickly turned away again. Leopold leaned in even closer.
“Why? What are you afraid of that you’re turning your face away?”
“It’s not fear. It’s just… you’re too close, and it’s embarrassing.”
She was still haughty and aloof, but when Leopold saw her blushing face, he couldn’t help but fantasize that she might have feelings for him too, even if just a little. He still hadn’t received an answer to his confession. But he believed that her saying she would come with him was a kind of answer in itself.
“Stop calling me Count. I’m not a Count anymore.”
“Once a Count, always a Count. Status doesn’t just disappear, does it?”
“I’m leaving it all behind, Layla. All my regrets and my past.”
Layla half-turned, her blue-tinged violet eyes reflecting a swirl of emotions. Abandoning his status would ultimately mean betraying his mother’s vengeance. Leopold gently caressed Layla’s cheek.
“It’s okay. My mother’s only wish was for me to be happy.”
That had been her wish until the end. She couldn’t have been unaware of who was behind the scenes. He had agonized over what path his mother truly wanted for him. And this was the conclusion he had reached.
“I’m no longer a Count, so call me something different. Don’t call me Count anymore.”
“And what would you like me to call you?”
“Leo.”
Without hesitation, the name just sprang out, and Layla burst into laughter. Leopold was still acting out of character for his size.
“Go on, Layla. It’s not that hard to say a name.”
“Count, why are you being childish?”
“What’s wrong with it? It might be a good experience for the aloof and haughty Miss Layla to call me by name.”
Leopold’s nonchalant words made her heart race. Layla took a deep breath. It wasn’t a big deal, but the word that had been hovering on the tip of her tongue just wouldn’t come out. Avoiding his expectant gaze, she whispered in a small voice.
“Leo.”
“I can’t hear you, Layla.”
“If you can’t hear from this distance, something is seriously wrong with your hearing.”
As expected, she fired back without missing a beat. Leopold slowly released her arm and took a small step back.
“Then say it loud enough for me to hear from this distance.”
“Geez, really.”
Layla shook her head. He gently tugged at her hand, urging her on. The words still wouldn’t come out easily. Layla opened her mouth while looking at the ground.
“Leo.”
“Layla.”
The way he said her name sounded pleasant. When he gently tugged on her hand, she let herself be pulled into his strong arms.
“I love you, Layla. So much.”
Layla didn’t respond. She simply bowed her head. But he guessed she felt the same way. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come with him.
She had thought back then that he would know even without an answer.
* * *
At night, her shimmering silver hair stood out too much. Layla ran her fingers through her now blackened hair. She had to blend into the pitch-black night.
“That should do it. Let me just quickly gather what we need…”
Her gaze landed on an old, bloodstained leather bag. Puzzled by its unfamiliar shape, she quickly racked her brain.
“The keepsake from that time.”
She had forgotten about it in the commotion. Layla hurriedly opened the bag. If there was anything left to return, she had to return it. The bag was full of various document bundles. Layla carefully read through the documents.
“Hortensia Müller of Hanel Free City.”
It was the name of the dead girl. The girl who was the same age, with an identical face. She couldn’t forget it even if she tried.
“Daughter of Adalbert von Orléans and Herta Müller?”
The names were familiar. Layla rifled through the documents again. No matter how many times she read them, it conveyed one conclusion. Hortensia Müller was the sole heir to Orléans. The House of Orléans’ signet ring fell onto Layla’s hand.
