The Time to Become an Adult
“I don’t know if it’s right to leave you behind.”
Bill let out a heavy sigh, his face drawn with worry.
“Uncle, if you keep this up you’ll really miss the train.”
Leila scolded him gently, urging him on. She was so composed it made him feel both reassured and strangely bereft.
A notice of death had arrived at the cabin the previous afternoon: Bill’s elder brother had passed away. They had never been particularly close, and years had gone by without any contact, yet he was the only blood relative Bill had left in the world. He could not simply ignore it.
In the end Bill had taken a few days’ leave to travel home. That should have been the end of it, yet the thought of leaving young Leila alone weighed on him like iron.
“Lock the doors carefully. Even if it’s hot, keep the windows shut tight.”
He repeated the same warnings he had already given her half a dozen times since the night before.
“The hunting rifle is hanging in my room, so…”
“I’ll lock the doors and windows properly, bring the hunting rifle from your room over to my bedside, and sleep with it there. If any bad men show up I’ll go bang and shoot them.”
Leila recited the familiar litany calmly, having heard it so often she knew it by heart.
“I’ll eat well, sleep well, and take good care of myself.”
It would be three days at most, yet Bill fretted over her as though he were leaving for months.
His eyes still refused to settle, but at last he forced himself to take a step. Leila followed him out so she could see him off as far as the manor gates.
“Leila… did anything happen at that party the other night?”
Bill cast a cautious glance toward the grand house and asked carefully.
“No. Nothing at all. It was fun. Really.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but… somehow ever since that party you’ve seemed to be keeping your distance from Kyle.”
“Me? From Kyle?”
Leila laughed as though the idea were absurd.
“Of course not. We’ve simply both been busy lately.”
“I can believe that, can’t I?”
“Yes. Why would I lie about something like that?”
“True enough. You two aren’t the sort to grow awkward with each other. Well then, Leila—if you get lonely being alone, go see Ky—no. Forget I said that.”
Bill waved a hand firmly, his expression suddenly stern.
“That boy is the most dangerous of all.”
“Uncle—”
“If he comes calling, send him home before the sun sets. Remember that.”
“Stop saying strange things and just go. Come back safely.”
At the great front doors Leila gave his back a warm, affectionate pat.
Only after glancing back several more times and repeating his instructions did Bill finally disappear down the far end of the plane-tree avenue.
Leila remained where she was until he was completely out of sight, smiling and waving vigorously every time he looked around.
It was going to be a very long three days.
“Leila is avoiding me.”
Kyle was certain of it now.
“It has to be because of that party.”
The reason was not hard to find either.
“You think so too, don’t you, Phoebe?”
He asked the question with grave seriousness, but Phoebe, perched on the windowsill pecking at oats, paid him not the slightest attention. Feeling foolish for talking nonsense to a pigeon, Kyle heaved a deep sigh.
Today again Phoebe had brought a note from Leila filled with disappointing news. Uncle Bill would be away in his hometown for a few days, and Leila planned to spend the entire day at the library, so the house would be empty.
Notes like this had been arriving for days already. She was visiting another friend’s house, she had an appointment in town, the orchard work was busy. At first he had taken them for consideration—warnings so he would not make a wasted trip—but by now they looked exactly like the clumsy excuses they were. Excuses for avoiding Kyle Etman.
“I suppose she has every right. I’d do the same.”
Kyle clutched at his hair and let out another long breath.
He had boasted that day that he was her partner, that he would look after her—and then he had left her alone. Only after a servant of the ducal house relayed that she was going home first had he rushed out in a panic, only to find she had already left the manor.
Why hadn’t he broken away from that place sooner? He had told her to wait. He had said it first. He had promised.
While Kyle paced restlessly by the window, a well-fed Phoebe took her leave. Staring blankly after the direction the pigeon had flown, he suddenly strode out of the room.
He barely remembered climbing onto the bicycle or working the pedals. He thought of Leila, his breath burned in his throat, and he thought of Leila again. Just when it felt as though his chest might burst with the thought, he arrived at the cabin on the Arvis estate. His shoulders heaved as he fought for air beneath a sun that had been fierce and arrogant since morning.
White sheets and pillowcases hung dripping from the clothesline in the yard. Beyond them the slender, soft silhouette of a girl was visible.
A mixture of desolation and relief washed over him as Kyle slowly pushed his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. Only then did Leila seem to sense a presence; she peered gently around the edge of a sheet. Her soft green eyes rounded when she found him.
“……Kyle.”
The voice that slipped between her half-parted lips was sweet enough to make him forget the awkwardness of the moment.
“I’m sorry.”
After a long silence at the table, Kyle spoke as though the words were a sigh. Leila, who had been studying her fingertips across from him, looked up in surprise.
“I’m truly sorry. I was wrong.”
“No. Don’t say that.”
Leila shook her head, flustered.
“I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry I lied.”
“It’s because of me. Everything is my fault.”
“That isn’t true. I’m not the least bit angry or hurt with you. Really, Kyle.”
“Then is there some other reason? A reason I don’t know for why you’re avoiding me.”
“Kyle… you’re like family to me, and I really do care about you. So… I think we need to put a little distance between us now.”
Leila tried to smile as though it were nothing, tugging at the corners of her mouth, but one look at Kyle’s face told her she had not succeeded.
It was true that she felt no anger or resentment toward him. Yet that night, at the dreamlike party, Leila had seen a clear line—the uncrossable boundary that had always lain between her and Kyle, a boundary she had forgotten because they were friends.
She had already known that Kyle came from a fine family far above her own. But the gap between a vague idea and the reality laid bare before her eyes was vast.
The heir to a widely respected medical family who could mingle easily even with the highest nobility. The Kyle she had seen that night in the glittering ballroom of the ducal residence lived on the far side of that unmistakable line. And that Kyle Etman was no longer the little boy who had once run and played with Leila.
Why did children have to grow into adults?
All the way home that night, shoes in hand along the dark forest path, Leila had turned that transparent, pure sorrow over and over in her mind. And she had made her decision: to accept time. And within that time, to accept the path that would let her keep her precious friend.
“You know what you’re saying is ridiculous, right?”
Kyle finally opened his mouth after a long while. His voice was lower and calmer than usual.
“No. This is how I truly feel.”
“You care about me—so why do we have to grow apart?”
“Because that’s how we can stay good friends for a long, long time. Kyle, I don’t want to lose you.”
“Who said I want to lose you?”
The eyes that held Leila trembled.
“How could we of all people do that? It’s impossible, Leila.”
“Kyle.”
“I’ll never lose you. I won’t let us grow apart either. How could we ever do that?”
Kyle set down his glass and clenched his fist tightly.
We can’t, Kyle.
Instead of the words she wanted to say, Leila simply smiled.
Because it was time to become an adult.
She swallowed the thorn-like words and rose stoutly to her feet.
“Let’s have lunch, Kyle.”
Leila hurriedly tied on the apron she had taken off.
“As an apology for lying, I’ll make you an—absolutely delicious lunch.”
“Matthias, isn’t it about time you left the service and focused on the family affairs?”
Liette set aside the newspaper he had been barely reading and stretched out full-length on the sofa. Yawning, he turned his head and saw Matthias seated in a wing chair, reading a book.
“Spending another year or two with the Royal Guard isn’t such a bad idea.”
Matthias turned a page and answered at leisure. Even on this sweltering summer afternoon he wore a jacket and a properly knotted tie, as though he were not merely in his own bedroom.
“True. It is the Herhardt family tradition, after all.”
Liette murmured, stretching languidly.
“And Matthias von Herhardt will become a more perfect Duke of Herhardt than any ancestor before him.”
While he chuckled, the canary that had been playing quietly inside its cage spread its wings. The little bird fluttered up and landed lightly on the open page Matthias was reading.
Matthias watched the bird twittering as though it meant to speak, and a gentle smile touched his face. To Liette, who for years had watched him shoot birds without so much as the flicker of an eyebrow, the sight was frankly shocking.
“I do hope that bird is a hen, Matthias.”
Liette shook his head with a short laugh.
“Otherwise it’s a rather revolting picture.”
Matthias made no reply; he simply held out his hand toward the bird. The tiny creature tilted its head left and right, then gently rubbed its beak against the tip of his finger.
“Don’t you think so too, Claudine?”
Liette shifted his gaze to Claudine, who sat opposite Matthias doing embroidery. Claudine held her embroidery hoop tightly as she watched Matthias and his bird. When her eyes met Liette’s, a faint smile spread across her previously expressionless face.
“I’ve heard that birds with beautiful songs are usually males.”
“Ugh. Please, Claudine. Let’s just believe it’s a hen.”
Liette gave a playful shudder.
“The thought that this is a scene between two males is enough to make my skin crawl.”
“What does it matter, brother? It’s only a bird.”
Claudine laughed softly and took up her needle again.
Matthias waited until the bird that had been hopping about on the page moved aside before he turned the leaf. Even when the bird flew distractedly about, tapping his hand, his shoulder, his hair, his expression remained unbothered.
“At the engagement party you should wear a yellow dress too, Claudine. Who knows—His Grace the Duke of Herhardt might dote on you the way he does on that bird.”
“No.”
Claudine answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“I dislike yellow.”
She drew a quiet breath and set another stitch.
“It feels rather vulgar somehow.”
She added a small smile for good measure.
A peculiar smile touched the lips of Liette as well, who had been needling the exact sore spot while pretending to think of nothing. Abandoning the bird talk at that point, he began once more to chatter about Matthias’s service in the Royal Guard and the engagement ceremony that was now almost upon them.
“Our little lady Claudine will soon be the lady who outranked Her Imperial Highness.”
“Such exaggerated praise is embarrassing, brother.”
Though she furrowed her brow, Claudine smiled radiantly.
It was an open secret that the Emperor of Berg coveted the Duke of Herhardt as a son-in-law.
The Emperor’s love for his youngest daughter was boundless. Moreover the imperial princess was a beauty so celebrated she was called the flower of society. Even Claudine, who from childhood had regarded the position of mistress of Arvis as rightfully hers, had felt a sense of crisis where the princess was concerned.
In the end, however, Claudine had won. Of course it was not for love.
If one had to put it simply, the Herhardts’ reason for refusing an alliance by marriage with the imperial house could be summed up in a single brief phrase.
Theirs was a family whose history was older than the imperial house itself, and whose wealth and renown were no less great. Judging that the inconveniences of seating an imperial princess as duchess would outweigh any benefits was hardly unreasonable. Such arrogance, when placed before the name of Herhardt, was simply understood.
Thanks to that, Claudine von Brandt had become the lady who had bested the Emperor’s daughter. The Herhardt family’s reason for choosing her was clear: she was the only daughter of a prestigious count’s house that lacked a male heir. In other words, a bride possessed of lineage and dowry every bit as fine as the princess’s—yet one who would not have to be treated with the same deference.
Whatever the inner workings, once the engagement ceremony was held, the name of Claudine von Brandt would stand higher in Berg than that of the imperial princess. The mere thought made Claudine feel she could love everything in the world—even that vulgar little bird.
“To think your engagement is right around the corner. It puts me in a strange mood myself.”
Liette stretched languidly and sat up.
Claudine lowered the gaze she had kept quietly on him and, as though nothing were amiss, began once more to set her careful stitches.