Anias found it amusing how agitated Marcel was, matching the intensity of his name.

Initially, it was embarrassing, and then a little awkward. However, soon after, Anais began to feel a sense of solace when she recalled the restless image of Marcel Blanc rushing to help her little sister, who had fallen from a tree and gotten injured. Marcel bore the name of her brother who had unjustly died thirteen years ago. Despite having exchanged only a few words, Anais was certain that he was a genuinely kind person.

And indeed, he was. Marcel Blanc, with his red hair, had lost his parents and was taking care of his ten-year-old younger sister, Marie Blanc. He had gained a positive reputation in Dunang as a good-natured, cheerful, and friendly individual.

If it had stopped there, Anais would have unintentionally considered him a good neighbor, someone who reminded her of a dearly missed person. However, what caught her attention was the unexpected connection between Marcel Blanc and Leo Serdieu, a newcomer from Seine and a resident of Dunang.

They were said to be close friends, Marcel Blanc and Leo Serdieu. Anais was aware that Leonard had adjusted well to life in Dunang, but it seemed strange to hear that he had made friends whom he referred to as “close friends.”

Of course, the Leonard she knew did not discriminate based on social status. Otherwise, their relationship would have been even more insignificant. 

However, Leonard Antoine de Charleroi was not a mere minor noble or anything less than a prince. He was born and raised in the Rothèchere Palace in Seine, a direct member of the royal family. He did not need to count all five fingers to know the number of individuals he should bow down to. Even if he enjoyed wandering outside the imperial palace, this fact remained unchanged.

Perhaps Leonard was living a better life than Anais had assumed, having adapted perfectly to life in Dunang. He might possess the capability to do so. This belief was deeply connected to the principles that Anais Belmartier always upheld, and to the possibilities she had always hoped for.

Her heart started racing without any apparent reason. It felt similar to the pounding sensation she experienced when she accepted the handkerchief Leonard offered her that day. However, the feeling soon subsided, leaving behind a slight ache in the depths of her heart.

“I will never become a murderer like you.”

With that thought, a painful realization washed over her. Some desires, some possibilities, might have been realized too late.

? ? ?

“I tried my best to pretend that I didn’t know, Leo.”

Sitting on a chair at the table and taking a bite of an apple, Marcel spoke to Leonard, who was clumsily folding the laundry. His tone was unexpectedly dramatic.

“You were once a nobleman too, right?”

“What’s with the sudden question?”

Leonard, momentarily taken aback, replied, attempting to appear nonchalant. He couldn’t tell if he was surprised by Marcel’s casual inquiry, as if discussing dinner, or by Marcel’s unexpectedly sharp observation.

Marcel finished chewing his apple, then twirled it in his hand before continuing. With a somewhat feminine tone, he mentioned an unexpected person.

“Ms. Belmartier… A few days ago, Marie got injured and had to be urgently taken to her hospital.”

“Where is Marie… No, more importantly, what does my past have to do with Ms. Belmartier?”

“As you saw earlier, Marie is fine, so don’t worry too much. But after talking with her for a while, I sensed that there was something different about her.”

Marcel’s gaze became needlessly sharp. In his own way, he believed he had done his best to play the role of a neighbor who only knew Anais by face. However, it seemed that Marcel was being stubborn. While Leonard felt a twinge of regret, Marcel took another bite of the apple and continued speaking with a mouthful.

“At first, I thought it might be due to shyness or awkwardness since people around her were encouraging us to get closer. But my instincts tell me it’s not that simple.”

Now that I observe her closely, it seems she not only has a good eye but also good judgment… 

In response to Marcel’s reasoning, which was gradually unraveling the story, Leonard resorted to her own defense by stating her conclusion.

“So, you’ve come to the conclusion that I was hesitant to befriend her, the revolutionary, because I come from an aristocratic background that was ruined by her revolution?”

“What… I had some doubts before, but now I’m fairly convinced that’s how it seems.”

After saying that, Marcel gestured towards the messy pile of laundry in front of Leonard. Leonard sighed and averted her gaze. It was a fact he had only learned after coming to Dunang: while he excelled in tasks like wielding power and cooking, he lacked the skill for washing and cleaning.

Leonard unintentionally gripped the towel he was folding tighter. The biggest question was how to respond, and he wasn’t particularly interested in what Marcel had just said. Marcel Blanc, calmly eating an apple right in front of her eyes, appeared remarkably composed and non-hostile for someone who suspected that his esteemed friend might be an aristocrat in a land where the aristocracy had crumbled after the revolution, and the class system had vanished. He didn’t seem to be in a rush for an answer.

“Ah, by the way, it’s alright if you don’t provide an answer. Regardless of who you were, the fact remains that you’re my friend now.”

“… It feels somewhat anticlimactic.”

So he had chosen not to answer at all. Whether he responded affirmatively or negatively, it would be a lie, and the truth would never pass his lips. Instead of explaining his unspeakable past, Leonard decided to ask about something else. It was around the time Marcel took another bite of the apple.

“Good people… Do they stay the same?”

“Hmm?”

“Anais Belmartier.”

Leonard tried to keep his voice undisturbed as he spoke Anais’s name. He wanted the question to sound trivial, as if asking about a casual encounter. Marcel placed the half-eaten apple on the table and scratched his chin, as if contemplating for a moment, before giving a cryptic response.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I’m grateful that she treated Marie, but she’s a doctor, so if you were to get to know her, she might simply be a person consumed by work and not particularly pleasant, right?”

Marcel’s words seemed nonsensical, causing Leonard to place his towel down and gaze at Marcel. He was convinced that further information would follow, and indeed, Marcel continued speaking, slowly and deliberately.

“But, Leo, no matter how much of a country bumpkin I may be, I’ve heard of the famous Ms. Belmartier.”

With that statement, Marcel began recounting what he knew about Anais. Anais Bellemartier was a doctor from a wealthy bourgeois intellectual family. She was hailed as a revolutionary at the break of dawn, her father serving as the president of Réans’ most prestigious university, Beauharnais. Unfortunately, her father met with an unfortunate accident and passed away. There were even rumors that she had inherited a substantial fortune, enough to sustain her even if it were used as a fund for the revolution. However, Marcel seemed unaware that Anais’s deceased brother shared the same name as him.

“If we were to stop there, one could assume that she left behind wealth and succeeded in the revolution… In other words, a person who had the means to live a comfortable life in Seine came to this remote area and suffered without receiving any money. How can we judge whether that person is good or bad?”

Marcel’s words hinted at the notion that he considered Anais to be a good person, after all. Leonard wasn’t disappointed. Based on the facts alone and the observations he had made in Dunang, Anais seemed infinitely virtuous. The same held true for the Anais Belmartier he had known before. He simply couldn’t comprehend Anais’s choices and couldn’t suppress the rage that burned within him, knowing that she now had a hand in killing his own kin.

Doctor Anais Belmartier was undoubtedly a good person.

But was the revolutionary Anais Belmartier the same?

Leonard had always wanted to ask Marcel one question. What did she think of the imperial family, who were executed by the revolutionary army in the Eastern Tower? The stories he had heard in Seine were merely sentimental, portraying death as noble and those who perished as fortunate.

Antoine XIII and Crown Prince Henri, along with Empress Amelie, Crown Princess Helene, and Princess Juliet, were said to have lived extravagant lives. Rumors abounded.

But no one spoke of Louise and François. Leonard simply couldn’t comprehend that. Was it fair for the revolutionary army to ruthlessly shoot and kill even young children without a proper trial? Leonard genuinely believed it was unjust, not only because he was their uncle. He longed to hear someone else say, “I feel the same way.”

That the Revolutionary Army was wrong.

Because once is enough, for anyone.