"I heard what people were saying when neither you nor your brother were around. That I’m pitiful. And that your brother is unfortunate."
"Why would you be pitiful, my lady? And why would the Marquess be unfortunate?"
"Well, because!"
Frey, irritated by Roxana’s feigned ignorance, jumped to her feet.
"Why do you think? You’d have to be a fool not to know."
"……."
"Begging my brother to bring me here—part of it was your suggestion, but honestly, it was out of curiosity and spite. I am the precious, pampered daughter of the noble House of Russell. Even if I am blind, I didn't want to miss out on what I should have rightfully enjoyed. But."
"My lady."
"Those people said it. That the Margrave remains a bachelor only to look after his blind sister. That a sister who can’t even marry and is of no help to the family is just a drain on their wealth…."
Choked up, Frey paused to catch her breath. Roxana stood up to join her. Frey clutched her chest, her face flushed.
"Shall I tell you a secret, Roxana?"
"……What is it?"
"The truth is, there’s a giant hole in my chest. You can’t see it…. So I live by ignoring it, but right now, it feels like cold wind is blowing in and out of that hole."
It was the first time she had heard such a thing. Frey was prickly and arrogant, but she was a girl with a cute side. While she seemed to have opened up to her a little more than to others, she had never spoken of such deep-seated troubles. Roxana silently took her by the shoulders and sat her back down on the bench. Frey, who had slumped down helplessly, asked in a dejected tone.
"You said you didn't have parents either, right?"
"Yes."
"But do you at least remember their faces?"
"……Yes."
"I can’t even remember that much. They passed away when I was very young. And now, there’s no way to see them again."
It was the truth. Aside from Frey’s blindness, when the family was wiped out, the castle had burned to the ground, and even the annals and portraits of the House of Russell had been reduced to ash. Not a single portrait of the late Margrave and his wife remained.
Roxana quietly bit her lower lip. She remembered something Curtis had said once.
"I saw my parents' death right before my eyes. The shock blinded me, and my sight has yet to return. I was five years old then."
When the House of Russell was destroyed, the siblings were young. At the time, Curtis was thirteen. Frey was a mere five years old.
It was hard to even imagine the depth of the trauma and shock a child that young must have suffered to be struck blind. Perhaps the hole in Frey’s chest had started there. She bore a responsibility for that.
"Do you know? All children resemble their parents' faces. Even if they aren't exactly the same, at least one feature—the eyes, the nose, or the mouth—is bound to look like them."
"……Really?"
Frey showed interest at the unexpected remark. Roxana smiled gently and pulled her into an embrace.
"Of course. I’m the same way."
Roxana looked at her jet-black hair and continued.
"For instance, your hair is a beautiful shade of black. Your eyes are the color of obsidian. And."
"And?"
"Your brother, Curtis, also has the same black hair as you. His eyes are…."
Roxana’s voice trailed off. Suddenly, she recalled the first time she had seen his eyes. It was a sight that had appeared in her dreams often over the last decade. The gray eyes that had approached her in the middle of a dark, deep sea.
"His eyes?"
"……They are a mysterious shade of gray. Sometimes they look pitch black from within, but when they catch the sunlight, they are a beautiful color that shimmers with many hues."
"I see. That’s right. They were."
Frey, quietly tracing her memories, smiled faintly.
"I believe your mother and father likely had that same color."
It wasn't a guess; it was a fact. Roxana had seen the late Margrave and his wife. They were a handsome couple, like something out of a painting. Curtis and Frey resembled them perfectly.
"Yes…. I can imagine it."
Frey, her eyes rimmed with red, nodded. Roxana held her hands tightly.
"My lady. Just because you cannot see doesn't mean you cannot see everything. Just because you have no memory of them doesn't mean you weren't loved."
"……."
"In this world, there are people who can see perfectly well but see nothing at all, and people who are loved but never realize it. Those people who talk about you being pitiful and your brother being unfortunate are exactly that."
Her own throat tightened as she spoke. The one who could see but saw nothing, the one who was loved but failed to realize it, was herself. If only she had known the signs before her father trampled the House of Russell. If only she had given Curtis a hint. She also regretted not trusting the love of the nuns at the convent. She had thought she was the daughter of a sinner who deserved no love and was destined to be alone forever.
"So, my lady, do not be disheartened even if you cannot recall your parents' faces. You can imagine them in your mind. And one more thing."
Roxana smoothed out Frey’s disheveled hair and continued.
"You have always been loved. You are loved even now. Your brother, Curtis, loves you. And I love you, too."
"……You?"
Frey, who had been listening quietly, muttered something small. Roxana, who hadn't quite caught it, blinked.
"What did you say?"
"……Even though I’ve been mean to you?"
"Even if you have been mean."
"No. No one will like me. I’m a troublemaker and I’m selfish. My brother, the maids, the servants—they all hate me."
It was a cute complaint. Roxana smiled brightly at the dejected-looking Frey and answered willingly.
"That is not true. At least two people love you."
"You’re not going to say that others don't?"
Roxana, who burst into a small laugh at the petulant remark, stood up and knelt before her. It was the same posture she had taken when Frey had overturned a meal on a young girl. Roxana held Frey’s hands together and said.
"I don't know the hearts of others. I cannot enter them and come back out. But does that matter? It is impossible for everyone to like you. That is the same for everyone."
"You’re cold. You’re kind and gentle, but sometimes you are truly sharp as a blade."
"You are not a baby or a child anymore, my lady. Just as you said yourself."
It was what she had said to her brother when she asked to be brought here. Frey, suddenly at a loss for words, subtly changed the subject.
"……My brother loves me because I’m his only sister, but why do you love me? I haven't even been nice to you."
This time, it was Roxana who was at a loss for words. Her lips trembled slightly.
Why did she love her?
While she truly thought Frey was lovely and cute now, the origin of that feeling was guilt, responsibility, and selfishness. She was certainly responsible for her situation. If it weren't for her father, the House of Russell would not have been destroyed, and Frey would not have lost her sight.
So, she had vowed to become her eyes and her feet as a form of atonement. She thought that seeing Frey’s happy face might wash away a little of her guilt. What a selfish reason that was.
"I don't know."
After a long silence, Roxana replied vaguely.
"You don't know?"
Frey frowned at the unsatisfactory answer. Roxana held down the hand Frey tried to pull away and whispered.
"But, my lady. This is the truth. Loving someone only when they behave well is not love. Loving someone only on the condition that they act a certain way is not love either."
"……."
"True love is loving someone 'despite' everything. It is loving even their flaws and praying for them. Just like your name, 'Frey'."
Frey, who had been stunned by the calm reply, burst into tears a moment later, her shoulders shaking.
Roxana patted Frey’s back in silence. Loving Frey. Being by her side and becoming her eyes. That was the form of atonement she had chosen.
The gaze that had been watching the two of them from afar quietly drifted away.
* * *
After shedding a good amount of tears, Frey soon fell into a deep sleep from the alcohol. In the end, Curtis had to carry Frey to the carriage on his back. Once inside, Frey refused to let go of Roxana even in her sleep, so Roxana ended up letting her use her lap as a pillow.
Curtis, who had taken off his coat to cover Frey like a blanket, remained silent the entire time. He seemed deep in thought, or perhaps troubled by something.
Roxana watched him cautiously while stroking Frey’s hair. Like a baby clinging to its mother, Frey held onto Roxana’s waist tightly and would not let go.
"You were out with a young boy."
Curtis spoke abruptly while they were traveling in silence.
"……Yes."
She hadn't gone out to lure a man. He had seen her out with the boy, despite his earlier mockery. Roxana lowered her eyes.
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