The Butterfly That Swallowed the Fog
Tilia lay on her bed in the topmost room of the estate, staring at the ceiling with a faint sigh escaping her lips.
The faded wallpaper, weathered by the passage of time, had grown worn and threadbare. Uncleaned corners still bore traces of spiderwebs that had escaped the last cursory cleaning.
‘Ugh, my head…’
Tilia felt the ache from the blow she had received from her father earlier, and slowly turned onto her side.
The narrow, old bed creaked loudly, as if protesting the pain it was forced to endure.
And alongside that rusty sound, her mother’s voice echoed like a ghost’s whisper.
“Tilia, hitting someone isn’t a crime. Prove to those people just how great a blessing it truly is.”
“No, no! Just shut up and stop hitting me! Throw everything away, get out, and look in a mirror! There’s nothing you can sell me into marriage anyway!”
Laughter, tears, none of it—only a savage howl filled her ears.
Tilia squeezed her eyes shut, remembering her mother, Evelyn Palmer, who had become a ghost haunting this very mansion.
Evelyn Palmer.
Her mother’s maiden name had been Evelyn Palmer.
The third daughter of the wealthy Palmer baronial family, she had been so breathtakingly beautiful that people would steal glances at her from time to time.
Yet there was more. Even within the conservative society of her day, Evelyn had graduated from the Archasis Royal Academy as a prodigy.
The brilliant Evelyn Palmer had only one future in mind.
She wanted to live as herself—not as some noblewoman’s wife like the other women, but as Evelyn, proving her own worth.
Back then, Archasis had been the first time a queen sat upon the throne instead of a king, ushering in sweeping reforms.
Queen Fidelia had desired women in positions of power not only within the royal household but throughout the government as well, and she had ruthlessly passed those administrative measures.
Evelyn believed it was an opportunity created just for her, a path forged by the gods who valued her abilities more than anyone else.
However, the moment her father received her letter requesting an appointment at the central ministry, she learned the truth.
Her father, who had always boasted about his daughter’s academy graduation, had only taught her to sell her into a better marriage.
When Evelyn learned she was to marry the duke’s successor, she devised a plan.
She would marry the man who had long pursued her and had professed his love with the greatest passion.
Naive Evelyn believed that, however poor he might be, marrying the man who loved her would grant her a life of respect. It would allow her to live not the rigid life of a duchess’s wife, but a happy life as Evelyn.
Yet, as everyone knew, that had been nothing but a foolish dream.
The day after fleeing to the temple in secret and marrying, Evelyn discovered the reality.
Baron Bradley Ambrose had no intention of respecting her in the slightest. Nor did he love her at all.
Revealing his true nature, Bradley had savagely beaten and subdued Evelyn.
He had only wanted her to live as Baroness Ambrose—nothing more than his possession, his trophy, existing only to be claimed and cherished.
Living as a queen was a dream he could never fulfill.
After a few months, the baronial family, exhausted by their daughter’s arbitrary marriage and the son-in-law’s endless demands for money, simply cut off all ties.
When the baronial family refused to provide any funds, Bradley’s disregard grew increasingly blatant.
Over time, he fathered a son and then another daughter.
Evelyn slowly began to lose her mind.
Tilia had been able to learn these details about her mother because, during her early years, Evelyn had exerted a profound influence on her.
From the ages of seven to ten, Tilia had lived in her mother’s study, learning the world through Evelyn.
From how to read letters to how to interpret them. From how to form clear perspectives to how to express them.
And through all the effort, the shattering of her self.
As Tilia unconsciously murmured the name Evelyn, she recalled her mother’s final appearance in her mind.
The image flashed vividly as if the bloodied, crumpled body had been thrown down the stairs.
Thump.
A sensation rose in her throat.
Tilia rose from the bed, clapped a hand over her mouth, and hurried to the bathroom.
Even after nothing had passed her lips, only bitter bile came up.
She vomited until her stomach was empty, then prayed silently from the depths of her heart.
Please, let there be no soul.
And let it be that even after death, Mother would not be bound to this place.
The nausea finally subsided.
Tilia staggered to her feet with a dazed expression and collapsed onto the chair.
Her temples throbbed unbearably, either from recalling her mother’s corpse too vividly or from the severe blow to her head.
‘…I’m fine.’
Tilia propped her feet on the hard chair and hugged her knees, comforting herself.
And as if out of habit, she murmured.
This isn’t real life. My real life hasn’t even started yet.
Her hands tightened around her knees.
She closed her eyes tightly and imagined herself in Ontario.
Imagining a life where no one knew her and no one knew her past, the nausea in her stomach slowly eased.
Tilia exhaled slowly and lifted her head.
In her tired eyes, something unbidden had entered.
‘Again, huh.’
It appeared the careless maid had stopped by again, leaving a letter without a word.
Tilia sighed and reached for the envelope.
Upon the red seal was the Wells family crest.
***
“Tilia, I’m so glad you came!”
Judy, wearing a cheerful dress instead of her usual uniform, opened her arms wide in greeting to her friend, beaming.
But then her eyebrows dropped in apology.
“Sorry. I invited you too suddenly. I meant to suggest next week, but Mom kept urging me to come see you as soon as possible.”
Despite her hasty invitation, Judy hugged Tilia even tighter, grateful for the friend who had come without hesitation.
“It’s nothing. I didn’t have anything to do anyway.”
Judy, who had released her friend, carefully studied Tilia’s face as she answered casually.
Was it because of her mood, or had something really happened? Her complexion seemed even paler than before.
In truth, Judy had noticed as well.
She knew that the treatment Tilia received at home was far from good.
No matter how oblivious, they had shared a room for four years.
Tilia was always calm and never said a word, but Judy had spotted hints in her extreme reluctance to speak of the family and the bruise she sometimes got early in the semester.
Yet Tilia had never mentioned it first. So the most Judy could do was invite her friend home as often as possible to spend time together.
“I heard you’re coming over today, and the kitchen staff got all fired up. They’ve been running around since dawn! You’d better brace yourself to tumble all over the place.”
At those words, Tilia smiled, unable to hold back.
The smile was so bright that Judy walked down the corridor to the drawing room with her even more playfully than usual.
“Welcome, Tilia.”
When Judy’s mother, Countess Grace Wells, opened the door of the drawing room, she greeted Tilia with a warm smile that perfectly suited the elegant interior.
Tilia curtsied slightly.
“It’s been a long time, Countess Wells.”
“Don’t be so stiff.”
Countess Grace Wells rose gracefully from her seat and approached Tilia.
“How is it? Tilia seems to grow even more elegant every time I see you. Judy should be more like you. I don’t know what to do with that little troublemaker.”
“What! What did I do!”
Grace pretended not to notice her daughter’s puffed cheeks and took Tilia’s hand, then studied her face with concern.
“Why are your hands so cold? Are you unwell?”
“I’ve always been a bit cold.”
“Come, let me get you some warm tea. Nothing serious, is there?”
Grace kept stroking Tilia’s pale hands and gently guided her to sit beside her.
“Unfortunately, today I have to have a quiet meal with Lainer and the two of us. A knight squad has been delayed, so I’m afraid the other families won’t be able to join for dinner.”
“It’s fine with just the four of us.”
Grace’s gaze toward the quietly sitting Tilia, who looked a little awkward, was filled with warmth.
It was the genuine affection of a countess. She truly felt gratitude toward her daughter’s only friend.
Perhaps because she had been too pampered after finally having her youngest daughter after raising three sons.
Judy had been overly timid and fearful. Because she was so shy, she had no friends worth speaking of, and because her health was delicate, she would often get nosebleeds at night.
When that Judy had insisted on going to the academy on her first day, Grace had even cried, worried for her daughter.
Tilia had been the one who comforted Grace’s tears. Since Tilia had become Judy’s friend, Grace had been able to sleep soundly even on the last night of the break.
Ever since becoming friends with that child, Judy had grown so cheerful and radiant.
Just thinking of it made Grace want to shower her daughter’s precious friend with dresses and jewelry.
But that child found it hard to accept such things easily.
So, looking at her daughter’s friend who could offer only small kindnesses, Grace spoke again with worry.
“You seem to have lost some weight. You’re always making sure you eat every meal, right?”
“Yes. I ate a proper breakfast.”
“Oh dear. Still, you’ll need to eat a lot later. The kitchen staff has been preparing a full table since hearing you’re coming. I think it’s best to forget about walking there today.”
At Grace’s identical words to her daughter’s, Tilia forgot her awkwardness and laughed.