One Day My Sister Died - chapter 22

Chapter 22: A Man You Can’t Figure Out

Among the maids who were meticulously examining the sample design book, Monica was especially eager in suggesting various things to Yuan.

“Even though Madam has thin arms and legs, she’s fuller in the chest and hips. If she wears clothes that are too loose, it’ll make her look bulkier than she actually is. With black hair, she looks good in any color, but if she wears something bright like pink or yellow, it’ll flatter her figure without making her look over the top!”

Monica, who was perfectly in sync with the dressmaker Michelle, practically made decisions for Yuan before she could even express her likes or dislikes.

In fact, Yuan found that more convenient.

While she didn’t dislike dressing up in pretty clothes and shoes, she had lived through her adolescence without much regard for such things. Though she recognized what was beautiful, she wasn’t skilled at choosing it.

Monica, a maid in her late twenties with a sophisticated appearance, boasted that she once dressed a young lady from a wealthy aristocratic family. Her stubbornness was unshakable; whenever Yuan hinted that something seemed excessive, Monica would passionately explain why it wasn’t, why that specific item was necessary. She would win applause from the maids and, eventually, Yuan’s surrender.

The butler, who had been observing from a distance, also decided it wouldn’t be worthwhile to have brought in an outsider to the mansion just to follow Yuan’s preferences.

In the end, through the combined efforts of dressmaker Michelle, who wanted to secure a major client, and Monica, who longed to take over the job of dressing Madam instead of working in the laundry room, Yuan ended up ordering over thirty outfits.

“Th-thirty outfits…”

“Madam, they’re winter clothes, so they include thick shawls, gloves lined with sheepskin, and ear muffs and fur capes with angora fur, which you often use. When you count all those little items, thirty outfits aren’t really thirty outfits!”

“That’s right, Madam. The lady of the Reve Marquis, whom I attend, orders much more than this every year. Since we’re not making any extravagant ball gowns, we’ve chosen much more practical and lighter dresses.”

In the end, the dull dark green dress that Yuan always wore was immediately taken off by Monica.

Even as she removed the dress, Yuan insisted on keeping it, as Louise had mended it many times, showing a rare display of stubbornness.

However, when dressmaker Michelle offered to clean it up and return it along with the new clothes, Yuan handed it over.

Wearing the lilac dress that Michelle had brought as a sample and altered on the spot, Yuan stood awkwardly, watching as her beloved green dress was packed away into Michelle’s clothing box without hesitation.

“Butler, is this okay?”

After sending off Michelle, who cheerfully shook her hips while riding away in the carriage, Yuan asked anxiously.

Gustav, the butler, who had just been marveling at how beautiful Madam truly was, answered with a puzzled expression.

“What do you mean?”

“This place doesn’t have any parties or guests, yet I just ordered thirty outfits.”

Looking worried, like a child who had done something wrong, the butler reassured her.

“Madam, this place may be poor, but the master of the house always wears nothing but his robe, doesn’t he?”

Recalling the always similarly dressed Claude, Yuan rolled her eyes.

The butler reassured her once more.

“So having you, Madam, own a few more ‘normal’ clothes won’t cause any trouble. The Master has already approved it.”

Yuan, whose face had clouded with worry, relaxed and gave a faint smile at Gustav’s light-hearted remark.

Just like the lady’s bedroom, the new colorful outfits too.

Though Gustav wasn’t paying for them himself, seeing Yuan quietly happy each time made him feel a sense of pride.

***

**The round shadow of Count Felice hovered in front of the First Prince’s palace.**

Although he had previously requested an audience, this unpredictable prince was notorious for creating unexpected situations, so the Count had entered the palace as soon as the gates opened. As expected, things took a turn.

The First Prince, Bolonico, dressed in a pristine white uniform, emerged from the palace with what seemed like fifty attendants in tow. His short golden hair, cut sharply, sparkled as if dusted with gold each time it swayed. His prominent, slightly pointed nose tilted upward before fixing on Count Felice.

The flesh under his eyes curved mischievously.

“Ah, who do we have here?”

“Glory to the great Yufrees! Greetings to the First Prince, Your Highness!”

“So noisy from the morning, you fat Count.”

That brat!

Count Felice clenched his teeth and bowed even lower. Although he had been overly polite from the start, he hadn’t expected to be insulted like this.

Prince Bolonico often resorted to childish personal attacks when something displeased him. He only addressed Felice by his proper title when the Count was in his favor. A notorious attention seeker suffering from a severe case of “prince syndrome,” Bolonico required these ridiculous performances.

Count Felice acted as if he hadn’t heard the insult, bending at the waist even further.

“Please protect my precious niece from the terrifying deposed prince, Your Highness!”

“What are you babbling about, Bolonico doesn’t understand.”

“Deposed Prince Claude Yufrees has taken two of my priceless nieces! Without a wedding! I’ve never heard of such a marriage!”

Although it had been the Marquis of Companni, acting under royal orders, who had taken his nieces, the Count tailored his speech to Bolonico’s preferences.

“A wedding? For a mere nominal prince who only exists in the royal registry? A wedding is far too extravagant. It was a waste of resources just finding him a bride. Right?”

Bolonico turned to the Marquis of Companni behind him for confirmation.

The marquis, already frowning as soon as he spotted the Count’s shadow, stepped forward silently and nodded in agreement.

“Even if there is a wedding, if Count Felice has any sense of shame, he won’t show his face at it!”

“Bolonico, same thought.”

The First Prince lifted his chin haughtily.

“I overlooked the fact that you had two nieces, so I settled that debt with another bride. Bolonico is being exceedingly merciful, don’t you think?”

“Indeed. For daring to deceive Your Highness, he should consider it a miracle that his head is still attached.”

“Ah, since we’ve come all the way to Cielo, shall I share some news you’ll appreciate, fat Count?”

Count Felice, still bent over, raised his head slightly. The prince with the golden bob cut smiled wickedly.

“Though there won’t be a wedding, you’ll have the chance to see your niece at that notorious black mansion.”

“Is that… really true?”

“My brother, beautiful yet monstrous, seems to have finally found his match. When asked for proof of the consummation, the response was immediate.”

“What?”

“I am overjoyed. To think my brother has finally found his partner. What a beautiful couple they must make. Bolonico likes beauty, don’t you?”

“None can match Your Highness’ eye for beauty.”

While Count Felice was still reeling from the mention of “consummation proof,” the Marquis of Companni attentively supported Bolonico. On any other day, the Count might have thought them a perfect pair of cockroaches, but now his mind was spinning with the words: “Deposed Prince finds his match. Proof of consummation.”

“Anyway, something fun is bound to happen soon, so just wait, traitorous fat Count.”

“W-wait! Your Highness! I’m no traitor! I lost two nieces…”

“I will let you join in the fun. Whether you’re a useful servant or not, we’ll determine that then. I am merciful, isn’t that right?”

“One hopes that an ungrateful man will at least know how to be thankful.”

“Bolonico, same thought.”

Prince Bolonico turned his head gracefully, caressing the hilt of the rapier at his waist, indifferent to how pale Count Felice had grown. The prince’s attendants, snickering like an audience, followed after him, one by one passing by the “fat Count.”

On any other day, Count Felice might have seethed over the insult. But now, he couldn’t move an inch.

“Proof… of consummation?”

***

Early in the morning, a new set of clothes arrived from the tailor, Michelle.

Although Yuan had ordered thirty outfits, not everything had come yet. In the box was a thick woolen cape trimmed with white angora fur, long enough to cover her hips, a matching white angora scarf, and earmuffs—symbolic of the imperial family with their purple wool accents.

What made Yuan happiest was the neatly mended dark green dress. The traces of Louise’s repairs hadn’t been erased completely, but they were now reinforced with matching fabric so seamlessly that the dress looked almost new.

Yuan put on the fixed dress, the fur-lined cape, and the earmuffs, feeling cozy as she stepped out of her bedroom.

As she passed by Claude’s room, she slowed her steps and deliberately made some noise, hoping he would call out to her. But for the second day in a row, he didn’t.

What on earth was he thinking? He was such a mystery.

Yuan couldn’t understand why he hadn’t sought her out, though part of her felt relieved at the peaceful days that had passed. Yet, she felt a pang of guilt towards Louise. It seemed like she was the only one enjoying this newfound tranquility.

She wished she could get closer to Claude quickly, so she could at least bring up Louise in conversation. Yuan debated ignoring him altogether and waiting for him to approach her. But instead, she found herself wandering around the garden beneath his window, hoping he’d notice her presence.

She didn’t have the courage to barge into his room without a reason, but she wished he would see her from the window. A part of her wanted to throw a small stone up at his window to get his attention.

‘Is he watching me right now?’

She was tempted to glance up at the window. However, the memory of the curtains being drawn shut each time she looked up dissuaded her. She didn’t want to face that rejection again, having her attempt to communicate cut off before it even started.

Yuan lingered in the garden, pacing back and forth, waiting for Claude to engage her. As the sun began to set, she finally turned to look up at his window.

To her surprise, the curtains were not drawn.

He wasn’t watching her.

Feeling both embarrassed and slightly relieved, Yuan stood on her tiptoes, trying to peer inside. If she caused enough of a commotion, perhaps he’d open the window, she thought. Even though his room was on the second floor, in this enormous mansion, it felt much higher, and she couldn’t see anything from below. Still, if Claude was near the window, maybe she’d catch a glimpse of his hair.

She continued jumping in place for quite some time, trying to make her presence known.

Out of breath and bent over, gasping for air, she suddenly heard a slow, creaking sound above her.