The carriage door opened gently and Clarisse descended with an almost rehearsed elegance. Her light-coloured dress fluttered softly in the breeze, and her upright posture imdiately attracted the attention of everyone present.
『Who is that lady?』
『Wow... she’s beautiful!』
『Watch your mouth, idiot. She’s dressed like a noble.』
『Look at the emblem on the carriage! It’s the Riesenhart family crest.』
Whispers spread quickly through the crowd, like a spark igniting a dry field. So stopped to stare boldly, others whispered barely concealed, fascinated by his presence.
Just a few seconds later, I ca down.
I didn’t show it on my face, but I felt a slight tremor in my hands. Cold sweat ran down my back, sticking to my clothes. Even so, my steps were firm. Controlled. I mustn’t give anything away.
My expression barely changed, although inside I still felt that uncomfortable sensation as I rembered the ruins of Verithia. I took a step forward, without hesitation, and looked directly at the crowd.
And then, it happened.
The murmuring ca to an abrupt halt.
For a mont, a strange silence fell over the square, as if the very air was holding its breath. The gazes that had been fixed on Clarisse slowly turned toward . So faces tensed, others looked surprised—confused, even.
『Who is he...?』
『That hair...』
『Wait, don’t tell ...』
『It’s the marquis’ son!』
『Right. I saw him once years ago, when he arrived with Lady Elizabeth...』
『That’s true! His hair is identical to hers.』
The crowd gathered on both sides of the path, barely held back by the presence of the soldiers. So rose on their toes to get a better look, others whispered through clenched teeth—without exception, they all looked excited. The air slled of cheap incense and sweat.
Not everyone could recognize . But it only took a glance at the carriage’s crest—or my features—for speculation to spread like wildfire.
『They say he shut himself away after Lady Elizabeth’s death...』
『That news broke my heart...』
『So young, so kind...』
『I rember how he used to get off the carriage with food when we went through that famine.』
『I’m glad he finally ca out. About ti... I hope he keeps visiting.』
I showed no reaction to their whispers, wrapped in false compassion, nostalgia, or whatever they were trying to convey. My face remained indifferent.
But the guards didn’t share my patience.
One of them stepped forward, his voice sharp as steel:
—"Silence! The young master Daven graces this day with his presence. Bow your heads and show so respect!"
A chill ran through the crowd. The pressure radiating from the guard made them understand the language of fear.
The whispers stopped. Mouths shut like sealed doors. One by one, like a wave being held back, they lowered their heads and bowed. So even tried to kneel.
Of course, I didn’t look at them. I simply raised my hand slightly—a sharp, quick gesture—to signal that it was enough.
The guard caught the sign.
—"You’ve seen him," he growled with disdain. "Now move along."
The crowd scattered like sand in the wind, swallowing their own words, their own stares, and returning to their lives—though from ti to ti, furtive glances were still thrown my way.
I turned my face forward again.
—"Let’s go," I said quietly to Clarisse, not even looking at her.
She nodded lightly. The whispers didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest.
She walked beside with steady steps. Elegant, as if all of this were just routine for her.
We moved deeper into the city, the guards maintaining a certain distance from us.
We passed through the wide cobblestone avenues of the noble district. After a few minutes, the crowd’s contained murmurs gave way to the chaotic bustle of the comrcial streets.
We had reached a busier zone, where the sounds were livelier.
Vendors shouted to advertise their goods, lifting baskets of fresh fruit or displaying fabrics hanging from makeshift lines. Children ran between the stalls, brandishing wooden swords amid laughter, shouting, and little scuffles.
The air was filled with the persistent scent of freshly baked bread, mixed with spices.
Wherever we went, people paused to look. So did so discreetly, others boldly tried to approach—only backing off when the escorts "advised" them otherwise.
We visited clothing stores, artisan shops, and perfu sellers. In all of them, the shopkeepers received us with courtesy—perhaps already used to dealing with nobles.
They offered us luxury garnts as gifts, even when I insisted on paying.
Every now and then, Clarisse spoke to . Her words were soft—perhaps trying to break the ice or ease the tension—but I didn’t fully listen.
My mind kept drifting, disorganized, trapped between fragnted mories and thoughts I couldn’t quite sort out.
She seed to notice my distance, but didn’t ntion it.
She simply kept walking—and didn’t speak to again.
***
And just like that, the last four days passed: going back and forth from the mansion to the city.
Thankfully, tomorrow would be Clarisse’s last day here.
Being around her made tense, her very presence stirred a discomfort I couldn’t explain. Her smile reminded of sothing I didn’t want to face—a figure that had haunted even in death.
We only spoke a few tis while walking through Riesenhart’s streets.
Most of the ti, I simply didn’t feel like talking.
I preferred silence.
Even so, there were monts that managed to catch my attention.
One of them happened when we visited a small theater on the edge of the noble district.
Its facade was a bit worn down, but still held a certain elegance.
The owner, an older woman with ink-stained hands and an overpowering perfu, recognized imdiately.
—"Your mother used to co here every day," she said with a faded smile. "Her voice... was enchanting."
I didn’t know what to say.
I simply looked at the empty stage, its torn curtains hanging like mories on the verge of fading away.
But in those brief monts, the theatre seed to shake before my eyes, and I saw the silhouette of a woman with silver hair smiling with her arms outstretched towards .
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