Whenever young male merchants intensely stared at Edith’s face through her veil, something inside him felt like snapping.
For a moment when the mourners stopped coming, Edith saw his frozen expression and dropped her fan.
Thunk—
“There, could you pick that up?”
Walter, frustrated that he could only approach Edith in public on command, was nonetheless pleased she had deliberately called him over.
For a brief moment as he handed her the fan, Walter seemed to memorize the face of Edith, covered by her black veil.
Who would think this elegant woman was the one Sophia had picked up for her schemes a month ago?
Walter subtly nodded, impressed by how well she was playing the role of Lady.
“I have prepared an elegy for you, ma’am. Hans helped me a bit.”
“An elegy…?”
“You’ll hear it soon.”
A love letter?
Before Edith could even ask, Walter brushed past her. She caressed the fan in her hand, wondering what he had prepared.
That evening, the late Lord’s funeral and burial were scheduled.
A large pit had already been dug in the backyard of the family crypt where the ancestors were buried.
“Then, let’s pray.”
The visiting bishop prayed to God in a calm voice.
Emperor Agnus the 14th was not at all pious, and he had diminished the church’s authority as soon as he ascended the throne.
Over two decades, weekend church attendance had become the domain of the truly devout, but at moments of birth and death, people still sought God.
As the bishop blessed Nicholas, Edith had other thoughts.
‘That man Sophia keeps by her side must be the lawyer in charge of the Portrion family’s will.’
Now that the Lord had officially passed, she seemed intent on carefully managing the person who would draft the will.
All this while unaware of how her pregnancy scheme was progressing.
More than Sophia’s hidden agenda, Edith was curious about what Walter meant.
‘I’ll hear the elegy soon,’ he had said.
His words were enigmatic. Though she knew it was not a love confession, Edith felt an inexplicable anticipation.
“What am I expecting, I…”
As the coffin containing Nicholas’ body descended into the dark pit, Edith imagined Walter gripping a pen and scribbling words onto a paper.
The image of him holding a pen was hard to conjure. She could more easily imagine him wielding a sword, ready to behead someone with his predatory eyes.
“Moreover, ‘hearing’ it.”
Throughout the funeral, Edith wondered about Walter’s intentions.
Meanwhile, Nicholas’ coffin reached the bottom of the pit.
Four countesses, including those who had been in close relations with Portrion, gathered in front of the pit holding small baskets.
Before covering the coffin with soil, they scattered paper petals to beautifully adorn the deceased, following the empire’s tradition.
The bishop pulled out a prepared paper and began reading the eulogy. Edith, keenly watching the unfolding situation, scattered paper petals over the count’s coffin.
The bishop’s eulogy then caught her ear.
“I have already taken a liking to you. Nowadays, I only think of spending more time with you…”
The bishop hesitated, realizing he was not reading his prepared text.
“I apologize. It seems a letter got mixed in with my script.”
The bishop awkwardly pulled out a paper with unauthored writing.
But the disturbance didn’t end there.
“What is this?”
“It looks like a letter…”
Those scattering paper petals discovered a letter lying under their baskets.
Edith also reached into her own basket. Just like the others, hers contained a letter.
“Is this for me?”
There was nothing written on the envelope, so Edith, like the others, tore it open to check the contents and was left speechless.
[Whitman. Consider leaving Portrion and living in a cozy mansion. By then, I won’t be a countess anymore.]“By then, I won’t be a countess anymore?”
Edith looked at the faces of the other people holding their baskets. Each held a different letter, but their perplexed expressions indicated that they had all received similarly romantic letters.
The most distorted expression belonged to Izazel. She snickered at the language of love written in her letter.
“Love’s escape? What is this…”
Izazel, who had been incredulous about who could have written a love letter to the housekeeper Whitman, soon found a pale and nauseated Sophia.
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
