Henrietta gazed at Edith, who was muttering not only with words but also with a tone of great anticipation, with tired eyes.

She was a consistent and eccentric person.

She seemed contemplative yet remorseful, and while she seemed pessimistic and rational, she was also a romanticist.

…The problem was that her romance was very different from the romance of ordinary people.

Edith acted as if she did not need the understanding of others. The most important thing in her life was only her research. She was often puzzled by such a personality, as innocent as a girl at first glance. However, if she looked at it closely, Edith seemed old-fashioned as Henrietta’s eyes titled still.

“Edith, is research that important to you?”

“Hm? This is sudden. Why are you curious about that?”

“I was just wondering, why’s research so important to your life?”

“You’re curious about useless things. Are you tired of playing with your lover?”

“Well, I guess I’m old too.

Henrietta smiled slyly and tilted her head to the side.

“It’s just because I thought you were rather consistent. It was the same when you first came to the mansion. It’s strange to me that you’ve had a consistent passion for over twenty years.”

Was researching that good…?

It was the first time she had spoken out of her mouth, though Henrietta often had these questions. It was quite a long time ago — as long as luxury and pleasure had been around her. When things like the smell of flesh or cigarettes tangled in her spacious bed became dull to her, Henrietta often headed to the outskirts of the mansion…

Where Edith’s lab was located.

Then, there was always Edith tying her long hair in a ponytail and moving her hands in a hurry. Without knowing what research she was doing or who was next to her, she was constantly rummaging through reports and comparing samples.

What could be so good about it? Why did she sometimes have eyes wet with remorse when being so absorbed in the things she loved…?

…Perhaps, she would never understand.

Henrietta had never lived her life so passionately.

‘Of course, my life is important to me, too.’

So, that was why she never hesitated to take advantage of her son or did things that deserved to be pointed at by others… Could the research be that meaningful?

So, what would be left?

‘I would rather get beautiful jewels or power that would be useful.’

She had no idea why finding out something through research would be so meaningful.

So, this was the first time it came out of my mouth. Still, that does not mean she was expecting an answer.

Henrietta watched Edith’s expressionless expression on her face before exhaling and getting up. Well, it was something she was interested in, so what could she do? After all, her life, as always, was boring, hedonistic, and meaningless.

“You don’t have to answer. The misunderstanding has been cleared up, so I’ll go. If I’ve something to do next time—”

“Henrietta.”

“…Hm?”

“Do you remember the first question I asked when I came to the mansion?”

Henrietta, who had been brushing the creases on her dress, turned her head. And, she was met with a strangely uninspired face, with a peculiar aspiration.

Edith, who was a little younger than now, appeared on top of it.

“Have you ever felt a fateful attraction?”

And, that question.

…Why did she remember this? As Henrietta frowned in embarrassment, Edith laughed.

“You asked me if I was crazy back then, but fate exists in this world. I’d rather call it coercion than fate.”

The coercion of some omnipotent being… Everyone below it was just a puppet that was tied to the thread of fate…

“And I want to break that thread. Coercion, it’s annoying.”

“…Still, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Fate?”

“I didn’t expect you to understand. I’m only answering because you asked a question.”

Despite her uncomfortable manner, Edith did not seem to care. She just rested her chin on her hand on the armrest of the chair.

“I’ll create an unwritten existence out of this thread.”

However, Henrietta was still frowning. Rather, a face that seemed to have fallen into a labyrinth — The unwritten law of existence — Even though she knew that Edith was going to make it, she still did not seem to understand it.

So…

“What does that mean to you, Edith?”

“Why is it meaningless? It’s a life-threatening matter for me.”

“…Life? Yours?”

“The life of the one I love.”

Edith’s expression was dyed with regret, the very expression she used to see often.

“I must do anything to save him.”

No matter how inhumane it would be, it had to be done.

Contrary to the weight of the content, Edith said lightly. It did not disappoint the twenty years devoted to research, and there was no resolution that could be called a determination. Henrietta suddenly wondered whom Edith loved, especially since she had never loved anyone.

Was that sheer cliff-like expression the expression that only those who have experienced love would have…?

Somehow, she felt a little used to it.

‘It seems to resemble that child.’

Henrietta remembered the maid she had been watching. The expression which she often wore also resembled that.

…Who else did she love?

゚· : * ✧ * :· ゚

“Why don’t you sit down, Irene?”

At Ahibalt’s words, Irene turned her body half a beat late. Her expression was as expressionless as before.

“I’m fine. You must be busy, Young Master. Is it okay to stay here?”

“There’s nothing urgent. Don’t you think it’s okay to sit down once in a while? If you fall over, we’ll have to watch you as well.”

“Ah… Is it this time already?”

Seeing his somewhat angry face, Irene glanced out the window and saw that the sun was already setting far away. She had been in this room ever since Rodion collapsed, so she had been standing there for hours.

Ahibalt was right, she did not even notice it. She could not even use the excuse that she was okay, seeing her condition. However, it was also true that she could not sit still with an anxious mind.

Rodion, who had passed out, was lying in front of her.

Since he lost consciousness a few hours before, he had shown only occasional signs of pain, but never opened his eyes.

“His body is in a state of agitation though he wouldn’t open his eyes… I’ve never seen this kind of poison before.”

“Is it life threatening?”

“It looks like there’s no threat to his life, but there are many circumstances that’ll tilt the scales for the worse, and I’m sure the Young Master knows this. It seems that Madam Edith must come to find out the cause of this.”

Conversely, it also meant that only Edith could make such a poison… and that fact made Irene even more anxious.

‘There was no way Edith could have sent poison to Charlotte.’

Edith was a character that existed for Rodion’s narrative. As such, it was either Henrietta or Veronica who played the main villain role.

…But, why did she do this?

Unable to understand, Irene clenched her empty fists.

However, something suddenly caught her hand. Raising her head, Ahibalt was standing with a rather stiff face, holding her hand in his.

“Irene, stop. It’ll really hurt you. Haven’t you been told that you should be careful since you were a patient not too long ago?”

“But…”

…But, she was alive and well here while Rodion was lying there.

It could not be the same.

‘Besides, being agitated is even more dangerous.’

If it had been anyone else, there was nothing as dangerous as a state of agitation for Rodion. It was because when he gets worked up, he could easily be encroached on by Elios.

‘If he goes completely berserk, hugging would not be enough to put him to sleep.’

It was a method that only worked if he showed the early omens of going berserk.

Nonetheless, Rodion was now in a state where it was difficult to even endure his heart beating so hard, and it was obvious what would happen when he woke up… To calm the berserk Rodion, Ahibalt would once again pull out the anesthetic gun, like then.

‘Everything is a mess.’

It was not just that she could not see Louise’s happy ending. Lavrenti would also slowly collapse in the face of Rodion’s death.

‘…If time passes, I will be fine again.’

Irene had to watch the scheduled tragedy until time went back again. So, she could not comfortably accept any death or any tragedy.

…The weight of time that only she alone would remember.

No matter how many times Irene regresses, this is a chronic disease of hers that does not fade away.

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