TNBTW | Episode 44

“I would like to apologize for underestimating your social skills.”

“…Oh, is this about what you said before?”  

Edith, momentarily puzzled by Skyle’s unexpected words, quickly grasped his meaning. She recalled that day, back when they had been preparing for the tea party—when he had told her not to put in too much effort, as he did not have high expectations.  

“Yes. You have steadily built meaningful relationships, have you not? I admit my judgment was premature.”  

He was acknowledging that he had been wrong and apologizing for it.  

For a moment, Edith merely blinked in surprise before suddenly bursting into laughter. The clear, lighthearted sound drew Skyle’s gaze back to her.  

“You don’t need to apologize. I already told you, it was actually a kind thing to say.”  

He had no idea how much his words had meant to her.  

Even if she tried to hide it, Edith had always carried the burden of having to prove herself, ever since she was young.  

No matter how much she tried to ease her mind, the weight never truly lifted. By now, she had simply accepted it as one of her flaws.  

And yet, with just a single sentence, Skyle had set her free. The reassurance that someone would not be disappointed in her—those words alone had been a comfort beyond expression.  

She knew, even years from now, she would never forget them. Even long after she would leave this world.  

“To be honest, I still haven’t fully adjusted to high society. My friendship with Viscountess Standen was purely by chance. I got involved because of her daughter’s situation.”  

“Like with the Lady of Valesia?”  

Edith hesitated slightly before nodding. Though she had not explained in detail, Skyle seemed to have already deduced the circumstances.  

It was true, though she had hesitated then, the reason had been the same. Whether it was Vivianne or Evelyn, she simply couldn’t turn away from a child in distress.  

“I still do not understand why you concern yourself so much with the affairs of others. You do not seem the type to gamble on uncertain gains.”  

Gains. She had heard that word before.  

That day, when she had stood beside the Grand Duchess of Valesia, ready to step in for Vivianne, Skyle had posed the same question.  

At the time, she had answered with simple honesty: that she had never considered personal gain.  

But now, she knew the real answer.  

“Actually…”  

She met Skyle’s gaze directly. 

 

***

 

Having finished delivering the documents to his superior, Aaron cast a furtive glance at the desk.

Should he ask? Or should he not? Ask? Don’t ask?

After a fierce internal debate, curiosity ultimately claimed victory.

“Your Grace, I know this may be presumptuous of me, but may I ask you something?”

“If you know it’s inappropriate, wouldn’t it be wiser not to ask?”

And within precisely five seconds of speaking, Aaron regretted his decision. His superior had a point.

If he already knew it was inappropriate, then he should have kept his mouth shut… It was such an obvious truth. Yet, since he had already spoken, Aaron decided to see it through to the end.

“You’ve been reading that book nonstop. What kind of book is it that has captured your attention so completely?”

It had been several days since the esteemed Duke Devion, the very foundation and pillar of the Ministry of Magic, had returned.

As always, upon his return, the duke had thrown himself into his work. Unlike other superiors who conveniently delegated difficult tasks to their subordinates, he worked harder than anyone, keeping himself occupied at all times. Even a glance at his schedule, which left him barely enough time to eat, made that evident.

This was nothing new. However, Aaron had noticed something peculiar—one particular book had not left the duke’s desk.

That was unusual.

Duke Devion’s magical prowess was matched only by his extraordinary memory. Thanks to that, he handled all reports and documents in a single reading, no matter how voluminous.

Even the thickest of reports were no exception. He was the kind of man who could skim through a document once and commit its contents to memory.

Yet, here he was, rereading the same book for days on end! It was nothing short of astonishing.

Aaron was not the only one to take notice. Rumors had already begun circulating within the Ministry—some speculated that the duke had acquired an exceptionally rare and powerful magical tome.

As the duke’s gaze drifted toward the book, Aaron swallowed hard. As a wizard, the hunger for new knowledge was difficult to suppress.

“A Study on the Formation of Aesthetic Standards.”

“…Pardon?”

Aaron, who had been brimming with anticipation, blinked in confusion.

Formation of what? What standards?

He had heard correctly, yet his mind stubbornly refused to process his superior’s words at face value.

If it had been a study on magic that shaped beauty, he could have understood. The phrasing was odd, but wizards had a tendency to give their spells extravagant names. Moreover, transformation magic had been a subject of study for centuries—any new development wouldn’t be particularly shocking.

Had the duke used such magic on himself, it would have made even more sense. After all, that striking appearance of his seemed almost too perfect to have been achieved without either magic or divine intervention!

“…Your Grace, this Study on the Formation of Aesthetic Standards—is it related to magic in any way?”

“No. It leans more toward the humanities. Are you interested?”

“…No, not at all.”

And just like that, his last glimmer of hope was shattered.

Clearly, his superior was keeping the book’s true nature a secret. That was the only plausible explanation for such nonsense.

Aaron knew the duke was not one to joke, but he decided to pretend he had never heard anything at all. He would rather not believe that the esteemed Duke Devion was wasting his precious time on something so utterly trivial.

“In that case, I shall take my leave.”

Meanwhile, Skyle did not spare so much as a glance at Aaron, who trudged away, defeated. Instead, he picked up the book once more.

Rustle. The sound of pages turning revealed the notes tucked between them. Skyle reached for one.

 

[Shorter legs make for a more handsome man? Skyle, you’re disqualified!

P.S. Oh, but I suppose you don’t need to run anyway—you could always use magic to hunt, so perhaps this doesn’t apply to you?’]

 

The handwriting was round and soft, brimming with playfulness.

Skyle could easily imagine Edith giggling to herself as she wrote those words. She was a woman who laughed often.

‘Again.’

His brows knitted slightly.

He recalled her expression when she had teased him about discovering one of his unconscious habits. That face kept resurfacing, disrupting the meticulous order of his thoughts.

Was it fatigue?

Perhaps it was so. The physician had examined his schedule in horror and strongly advised him to rest. Maybe the man had been right.

‘Though I don’t recall ever feeling physically exhausted.’

Skyle carefully placed the note back in its place, flattening the page to ensure it would not wrinkle before closing the book with great care.

Yet, at that very moment, Edith invaded his thoughts once more.

 

“The truth is… I do it for myself.”

 

The woman had inhaled deeply, as if gathering courage, before delivering yet another unexpected answer.

Of course, noble families were notoriously sensitive about their private affairs. While they freely gossiped behind closed doors, few would openly meddle in another family’s matters.

Edith Irene Brussels, despite coming from a lesser noble house, was no exception. She must have understood this well—yet, time and again, her actions defied that understanding.

 

“How does that become something you do for yourself?”

“Because it puts my heart at ease.”

 

It was absurd.

She had intervened in matters she could have simply ignored. The allowance meant to maintain her dignity as a noble was mostly spent on others.

Skyle could not comprehend her words. How could acts of kindness toward others be acts of self-interest? The benefits she gained were uncertain at best, yet the losses were undeniable—her money, her time, her reputation, and more. All things that people generally valued.

And yet, his three-year wife claimed that this was for herself. It contradicted everything he had seen, learned, and experienced in his lifetime.

‘Why?’

Was that why? Was that why he could not stop wondering about her? He had never taken an interest in another person before, yet he found himself drawn to Edith Irene Brussels.

He kept wondering about her, why a woman so incomprehensible by his standard, had come to hold such irrational way of thinkin, and what kind of path had led her there.

With no answer in sight, his questions only bred more questions, one after another.

And just like that, Edith began to take up more and more space in Skyle mind, slowly, steadily and without his notice.