The Bad Ending of an Otome

Perhaps a kind young lady who is more responsible than I am will be more essential to you in the future. 

Someone better than me, who is cowardly and unprepared to accept an apology and let go of resentment in my heart. 

The Marchioness gave me a blank stare. 

I tried to be as neutral as possible with my smile.

“She’s a lovely lady, Marchioness. Lady Elodie is a good match for you.”

That much was genuine. 

After all, even if I died and came back to life, I could never genuinely be her family, so it might be better to have someone who can at least support each other. 

I could not be consistently kind and caring.

Yes. I’m not that kind of person. 

I can’t completely forgive, express myself, or freely cling to others. 

I’ve traversed this place like an aquatic plant with shallow roots, like a magnet surrounding Ophelia. 

Her presence was my anchor, but without her, I couldn’t laugh from the bottom of my heart. Even if I was stupid and full of inadequacies, I was like a straw man, straining to even take care of my own body unless someone told me it was acceptable.

“…Emilia.”

“Take good care.”

I was the first to turn my back. 

I could feel her eyes on me, her expression blank, but I ignored it. 

My cheek was hot and throbbing, and my knees trembled from the release of strain. 

I could feel the frigid wind as soon as I left the break room. 

Cassio, who had promised to bring a glass of water or wine, was nowhere to be found.

My successful debut was now a distant memory. 

I’d botched my big debut, which would have had everyone talking from day one. 

I wished I could just go, hire a carriage, and go home as I strolled down the corridor. 

If only Lady McGinty had been there, I might have made it.

Anyway, avoiding other people’s gaze and fleeing this spot were my top priorities. 

I moved quickly toward the end of the narrow passageway. 

I yearned to get out into the garden and take in the fresh air. 

A familiar voice reached my ears as I was debating whether to jump over the short hedge or go around.

“Emilia.”

My heart rate slowed.

* * *

The Marchioness had a slew of reasons for Emilia.

I had every intention of adopting you as my daughter. 

I tried to imagine you as my daughter. 

I looked for you in every possible way. 

I kept Lady Elodie by my side not because I thought you couldn’t and she could.

Words puffed up like air in a balloon, only to fizzle out pathetically over and over. 

But every time, the scene of Ophelia denouncing her played over and over in her thoughts.

‘How could you possibly do that, Mom?’ 

The sight of Ophelia reproachingly curling her thin lips and accusingly glaring at her.

‘I told you to be gentle with Emilia.’

It was, indeed, guilt. 

But she also had some explanations for Ophelia. 

She had wanted to be nice to her. 

She considered making amends with Emilia for what she couldn’t do for Ophelia. 

It’s only that Emilia had vanished. 

She had departed alone the morning after the funeral as if she didn’t need anything from the Marquis’s household.

The butler, who had discovered Emilia leaving, had pleaded and begged her until she agreed to take a carriage. 

Without telling anybody, not even the attendants or maids who had grown up in the Marquis’s household with her. 

She appeared to be a ghost.

As if the Marquis’s household meant nothing to her without Ophelia. 

Everyone, including the Marquis and Marchioness, assumed Emilia would remain in the Marquis’s house when Ophelia died. 

They had never considered the possibility of her leaving. 

Ophelia’s voice was still fresh in her mind.

‘Mom, you’re so selfish. You believe that all you need to do is pour forth your affection. When the receiver is content, that is love. Do you even know this?’

‘I told Mom and Dad to treat Emilia well for a simple reason. I would not have seen Mom and Dad’s expressions if it hadn’t been for her. Because I felt suffocated, I might have died sooner. How can you say I died in your presence? Is it just a one-day thing that I’m a nasty girl? How about doing half of what you do for Emilia?’

‘It’s pretty funny, Mom. I despised her. She despised me as well. Does she believe she is unaware she was sold for money? I’m aware of it as well. She is aware of it. You know how I handled her, don’t you?’

‘However, she argued with me as if she didn’t care if she got kicked out. She claimed that I was unfortunate. Is that all you’re if you’re a girl who’s going to die soon? If she’s thrown out, she’ll roll around naked on the market floor and either freeze or starve to death, so what’s the difference between her and me?’

‘Yes, Mom. To her, I’m a dying girl, an unlucky girl, a girl who has a lot yet is so full that she complains. But am I a perpetually youthful, miserable, wretched, sick child to you? Right? Isn’t everything I say just rubbish from a sick, dumb child?’

‘You can’t even be angry with me? Do you think you shouldn’t be upset with your young, unwell daughter? Even if I get angry or frustrated, it’s all because I’m sick, so why should you put up with it? It’s revolting. I’m about to die from disgust! Your illiterate daughter? The Marquis and Marchioness’ cherished only daughter? Please don’t make me laugh! Is it love if you accumulate presents, clothing, and medicine? Is it love if you never get angry? A love that accepts everything, regardless of what you say or do? I don’t require it, I do not require it! I’m tired of being treated like a helpless child!’

‘Is it love to suffer hardship because of the guilt of abandoning an ill and young daughter? Is this love?’

‘Just feel angry for a change! Say you despise me as well, Mom! Isn’t it possible for a sick daughter to be a wicked girl? Even if she’ll die soon, she’s a good daughter, right? Do you even consider me a human, Mom?’

‘That’s why it appears that I’m telling Emilia treated me well because I’m just some ill girl with one friend who treats me well, right? Not at all. Because she is the only person who views me as a person. You and Dad don’t regard me as a person. You regard me solely as a sick daughter. You don’t know Ophelia Windrose!’

The Marquis and Marchioness’s relationship with Ophelia was strained till the very end. 

The Marchioness constantly shrank like a criminal in front of Ophelia. 

She cried and pleaded when she couldn’t take it any longer. 

Ophelia’s eyes, on the other hand, were usually frigid. 

Eyes that saw nothing coming. 

Long after Ophelia’s funeral, those eyes haunted her.

After Emilia’s unexpected departure, the mansion felt like a silent grave. 

It was a relief to see Elodie, who appeared to be an absolution. 

She spoke the words that she wanted to hear from Ophelia with affection.

‘It’s not the Marchioness’ fault,’ she says.

Those words. 

That warm, kind smile. 

That’s what she’d hoped to get from her daughter.

‘You gave it your all, my lady.’

Tears came as she softly held her hand and reassured her, and it seemed like salvation. 

That is why she did things she would never do normally. 

She volunteered herself as a guardian for Elodie, who had yet to make her debut and gave lodging in the Marquis’s mansion. 

She ended her long silence and prepared for her appearance. 

She purposefully paired her with Raretis as a partner, ensuring that no one could accuse her of being a rural noble.

But now and then, her heart fell. Guilt began to creep in. 

It wasn’t a sense of guilt that a stranger had taken the place of an empty daughter. 

Even her dead daughter, she realized, would not blame her parents for this. 

What weighed on her mind was the shadow of the vanished one. 

Elodie had the uneasy impression that the original owner of the items she was currently enjoying was someone else.

“It’s an important day for Miss Elodie, too.”

Those were dark and lifeless eyes. 

Who would have guessed she had such eyes? 

She questioned her vision when she saw Emilia dancing with Cassio from a distance. 

It couldn’t be true. 

Emilia, who had vanished without a trace and appeared to be in no need of anything. 

She did not need to leave the Marquis’s house in the first place if she intended to make her debut in this social circle. 

However, everyone was whispering. 

It was ‘that’ Emilia, they said. 

Countess Betty, a personal friend of hers, came forward to vouch for her.

My goodness, I don’t know how she did it, but she got Lady McGinty as her chaperone!’

Her eyesight faded for a second as she heard that. 

Was Emilia ever that stunning? Was that her expression? 

Had she matured that much?

Everything seemed strange. 

It was as if she had never seen her before. 

It was bizarre. 

She’d simply taken it for granted. 

If Emilia ever made her social debut, wouldn’t she naturally be the one to accompany her? However, someone else was filling that position. 

That is a well-known noblewoman. 

Cassio Brahamandorf was Emilia’s cavalier. 

It was a strange sense of loss. 

She’d arrived as Elodie’s debutante. 

She even matched her with Raretis, whom she adored as if he were her son. 

She needs to pay attention to them… 

But the happiness she felt as she watched the two of them dance vanished in an instant.

‘You’re a wonderful person, Marchioness, so someone like Elodie would suit you.’

Emilia smiled calmly even at that moment. 

One of her cheeks looked unusually crimson as if she had been slapped. 

Those dark eyes. 

Eyes that appeared unconcerned, as if they anticipated nothing. 

Perhaps she spoke because she, like Ophelia, was a nasty person.

She had no intention of altering her stance. 

Wasn’t it always simply between you and me, as long as it wasn’t for Ophelia? 

It felt like she was declaring it, and her barriers crumbled for a second. 

Even the way she spoke forcefully about Elodie felt like confirmation that she had no lasting love for her, which terrified her. 

The hand that dried her tears, though, was soft.

“Take good care.”

She remembered the little girl who used to call her ‘mother’ with a reddening face, the child who used to quarrel with Ophelia and then melt like butter with a single loving touch, the child who would leave a clover bracelet on the shelf as a present and then run away mumbling ‘thank you’. It wasn’t the same kid saying farewell in such a casual yet loving manner. 

The Marchioness pondered with a dull mind.

It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault…

She had been so preoccupied with Ophelia before she died that she had forgotten about everyone else. 

Ophelia was more daring than anyone else, therefore she reasoned that she would make up for any flaws later. 

It seemed good because she kept her distance as if she were a permanent guest at the Marquis’s residence, even maintaining correct etiquette. 

She reasoned that she might make amends afterward. 

She was mistaken.

Perhaps she had felt the same way. 

How was she going to survive after leaving the Marquis’s house? 

She’d spent almost her entire life here. 

She has no family or kin to rely on, no connections, and no household to support her. 

She was going to live at the Windrose Marquis’s mansion, so all of Ophelia’s wishes would be granted. 

She was terrified as she watched her diminishing body. 

She stood up to grab her without thinking, but then paused and sat down.

What if she was turned down again? 

What if she was mocked for hanging on? 

What if she despised me as much as Ophelia did?

Her dress’s white hem seemed to drift away like a distant white flower. 

The Marchioness covered her eyes with her hands as if she was about to cry.