It was early in the morning when I woke up alone in a large bed that didnt feel warm. The mont I woke up to the subtle sound of birdsong, I had to hold my breath urgently.
This is not my.
Ah.
Only then did the events of last night slowly dawned on . It was hard to believe that I had slept peacefully in Alan Leopolds room without even waking up.
A morning with nothing inconsequential weighs on slowly. As I was imrsed in my thoughts in the faint light that was leaking through the curtains, my heart ached.
From the beginning, there was only one option. Getting up straight away and going back to the annex as if running away.
As soon as I made up my mind, I ran out of Alans room as if on fire. It was so hectic that I realized long after I left the main building that I didnt clean up the ssy bed at all.
I managed to escape from this gigantic castle to the most relaxing place,
Uh?
The pitch-black ashes lying horribly on my beautiful reading table viciously occupied my vision.
It didnt take long to know it was a pile of my notebook and manuscripts.
What the hell
It felt like the blood all over my body was getting cold. While I was away, the room was swept away to the point where there was not a single dust, but the table top was unorganized.
Anger soared to the top of my head with that an obvious intention.
Excuse !
Running out into the hallway, I called the maid who was opening the window. My heart went up and down in a burst of anger.
How did this happen?
What do you an?
The maid asked back without looking back at as if she were annoyed. The windows were opened and the fresh autumn morning air rushed into the hallway.
My
All I wore was a thin sheet of Negligees. The sudden chill gripped my heart.
I managed to move my lips with my arms wrapped around .
My novel.
.
There was no way of knowing whether her hearing was bad or if she was deliberately ignoring , but the maid walked briskly without answering. Then she opened the window right next to .
Hey!
It was only natural that the hands, which were hugging both arms with goosebumps, suddenly got strength.
My novel is burned to the ashes now!
I burst into a rage. I didnt even rember how long it had been since I made such a loud noise. It was as if it wasnt .
Maybe its because Im still half asleep or because I cried too much yesterday, or maybe its because I cant believe that a novel Ive been working on has gone to ashes in one day
He told not to clean it up, but to leave it as it is.
What?
Even the will to get angry at her shaless attitude disappeared. Ah Im dizzy as if Im going to faint.
Yes, whats the point of getting mad at the maid? The employees of this mansion are paper dolls that are operated only by the owners orders. There were no good will, nor ill will to .
So the only person I can bla is.
* * *
For , was not a simple piece of writing. It was the only refuge that allowed to forget this unrealistic reality and live a normal life, sotis laughing, sotis crying.
Unfortunately, after my novel disappeared from the world, there was nowhere else to hang on to.
Having no place to hang on to ans that I just have to endure this abnormal life. Recklessly as if standing defenseless in the middle of a battlefield full of bullets.
At first glance, it may seem that I was devoted to writing the novel under Alans instructions, but in fact, I was not writing to dedicate the completed to Alan.
I was only writing for lissa Collins.
To get out of here first. To escape the shadow of a man who holds my life. Only then can I learn to love myself completely and live for myself.
The feeling of losing all those goals and will overnight cannot be explained by just being stunned or feeling hopeless. Anxiety and fear surged into as if I was falling into an endless abyss. It was a huge panic indeed.
Thats why Ive been hanging around the garden since morning. It was a cloudy day, but it was fortunate that it didnt rain.
As if overcoming yesterdays nightmare, I strode through the bushes where I had seen him and Monica, and farther, more thoroughly, looking for him, unaware of the weed stains on my hem. I had to et him.
It suddenly occurred to that Alan would have left the mansion early in the morning, while I was around like a madman.
What was he thinking when he burned ?
Alan Leopold loved my novel. He said he would read it, so he volunteered to be on the Academy Jury, and he even duplicated the manuscript secretly. Only to complete the story of the novel. It was only recently that he asked what happened to the main character, Troy.
By all accounts, it was clear that he had an affection for my story. Ironically, the original culprit that brought here was also that sa affection.
Is it too much to say the original culprit? I ended up living in Alan Leopolds house, where Id put my whole life on the line, with that writing as a dium. Its not an ideal form, but it probably wont happen again even if I was born again.
We often sit face to face, look at each other, talk about secrets, and sotis kiss each other, and its not love, but its similar enough So I shared feelings that I sotis get deluded. It was a ti when I was dreaming and overwheld.
But he never told that its love. Its not lissa Collins that Alan Leopold loved but its her novel. In other words, the person he kissed was as a novelist.
Even the novelist is a woman who loves him enough to create a character who looks like him and write a story, so all the actions Alan took on may have been a kind of encouragent or hostility.
So my question is, why did he burn my novel? Even if he didnt love , didnt he love my novel?
It was this hand.
You kissed my fingertips tenderly and said that youve waited so long for my novel to be completed, for that one thing. Why in the world?
Ah.
It was when I wandered in the forest for a long ti and reached the pond in the center of the garden. I had to stop walking for a while and lift the hem of my dress because my ankle hurt.
Sure enough, there was a thin scratch near the ankle. Seeing that pale drops of blood were seeping out, the wound did not seem to have been inflicted recently.
I didnt even know I was hurt until now, but after realizing it, I was no longer confident in wandering around the garden because my ankle was sore. My ankle is injured, and I feel like my head is spinning. Eventually, even breathing beca sowhat uncomfortable. My chest is stuffy.
I thought, staring blankly down at the flowers blooming by the pond. Am I feeling angry right now? Am I getting angry that my novel which I wrote painstakingly burned down?
.
Suddenly everything felt like stupid. Why Im here. What the hell am I supposed to live for? Its just all of a sudden, everything is.
Miss.
It was when I closed my eyes and quietly inhaled the faint sll of wood that was blown by the wind mixed with the faint sll of water.
You were here.
When I turned around, the head-maid was standing there. Its been a while since I saw that face.
Is Alan back?
No.
No?
The question arose montarily. If it wasnt for Alan Leopold, theres no reason for the head-maid to co to the middle of the garden looking for .
Standing awkwardly with all my nerves focused on my tingling ankle, the maid opened her mouth.
I brought an official letter from Hessen Cathedral about the donation, and Id like to ask you to sign it.
What?
I couldnt understand the maids words at once, and spoke in a puzzled voice. I hurriedly rolled up a strand of hair that fell on the bridge of my nose because of the wind blowing in ti.
What and from where did you bring it?
How do I know what the cathedral is doing, since I have been in the Duchy for several months and havent even stepped out of the mansion?
The master is not here.
However, the maids answer is more spectacular.
No, so why would you ask for it? You can do it yourself, right? Or the butler
Were his servants, not the masters proxy.
.
Im not either.
The maid had a stubborn mouth as always, and her voice was curt, but she seed very calm. She added, in a tone that would say, The autumn is in full swing.
Because youre the mistress of this house.
N (No)
I cant keep them waiting long, so please co in. Theres not much to it, so just sign it.
At that mont, I rembered last nights conversation like a lie.
I think I love you in my novel, not you.
I definitely said this, and then.
After all, you areJust a shadow of Troy.
Even after saying words like those. Alan had taken to his room when he heard it. He said sothing happened to him. It was just like comforting care.
But co to think of it, theres no way that sothing suddenly occurred that night, even while he was talking to .
Of course, if its the job of burning down all my novel manuscripts, its a different story.
I an.
Are you jealous of Troy in the novel? That Alan Leopold?
But my novel must be more important to him than . He doesnt even love . Why is he jealous.
Oh, my lady.
I was frustrated as I stood still with my mouth closed, and the head-maid sighed like urging to wake up.
Mr. Alan said it himself. All right?
.
Co on, follow . Co on.
It doesnt make sense.
Alan Leopold, do you love ?
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