There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 32

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It had already been a week since I came to Rodinia. The end of Gilbert Totten’s treatise on land economics, which I’d nearly finished reading, had finally come into view. Just as the end of this volume—once seemingly never to arrive—had at last arrived, so too must the conclusion of Vivian Ebelline draw near.

Imagining Ebelline’s defeated and surrendered expression, Edwin closed the book, which had only a few pages left.

The still lake surface, devoid of even the faintest breeze, was filled only with a chilling silence.

Again today, the golden mermaid—like a mirage—was absent. A lake without beauty was no different from a torn masterpiece. No matter how highly praised a painting might be, if it bore a large flaw, it would never sell at its true worth.

On his way to the lakeside, Edwin had picked a half-ripened red berry and bit into it. Tart juice burst in his mouth, while a sweet, savory aftertaste clung to the tip of his tongue.

Still, it tasted quite good. The astringent sensation had its own charm.

This flavor brought back memories of Vivian from that day.

The day when she clung to him, pleading he would do anything to save the gatekeeper, and when he’d imagined the taste of her plump, crimson lips.

“Your Grace.”

A voice descended upon Edwin, who had been leaning against a tree. Heavy footsteps stopped beside him as he kept his eyes quietly closed.

“A letter from Sir Corbin has arrived.”

When Edwin gently opened his eyes, a white envelope came into view before him. The envelope bore only a simple mark—no sender, no recipient. Instead of taking it immediately, Edwin looked up at Loic. Loic’s stiff expression was reflected in Edwin’s indifferent blue eyes.

“I believe I told you not to come near this place.”

“I thought it would be fine since the young lady isn’t here…”

“Has Ebelline ever given advance notice before coming? No. That woman never has.”

“…I apologize. I’ll correct myself.”

Edwin’s gaze, moving with the grace and smoothness of a painted stroke, landed awkwardly on the letter held out toward him. Taking it, he opened it.

“If Ebelline had been at the lake today, your eyes would’ve been gouged out.”

Though he spoke cruel words, his tone was calm; though he heard cruel words, Loic remained unruffled. With the same unshaken expression, Loic straightened his back and lifted his gaze—not toward the empty lake—but toward the sky.

“I’ll be more careful.”

“You may go now.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Loic gave a slight bow and turned away.

The letter Loic had delivered intrigued Edwin. Satisfied beyond expectation, Edwin returned the letter neatly to its envelope and gazed at the lake, rippling under the cool night breeze.

A lake now accompanied by his imagination of a golden mermaid playing within it.

Spring had passed into summer—the season spent with Ebelline.

During this season, Ebelline’s continued presence here felt dreamlike.

The girl he’d always seen only in dreams—the girl in the carriage—had grown, now vividly alive and moving, offering him yet another dream. Should Ebelline die and he return to reality, that beautiful dream would surely be buried deep in memory.

So then, how should I kill you?

The three weeks spent in Perrington had been long. Each sleepless night, he missed the floral scent drifting through Rodinia’s mansion. And he knew—within the fleeting flashes of memory of Rodinia, Vivian Ebelline’s figure was always present.

So then, how could I endure a season without you?

The more his thoughts tangled, the harder it became to find the right moment to kill Vivian Ebelline.

Edwin looked toward the golden mermaid swimming leisurely in his imagination. He watched until his eyes tired of the sight—splashing childishly in the water, laughing brightly, her ashen eyes gleaming with joy.

Edwin bit into the remaining fruit. The unripe juice, bitter enough that he should have spat it out, slid down his throat.

***

Four more days had passed after that week. Rodinia’s summer had reached its peak, and the transparent sunlight poured down, bleaching Rodinia white-hot.

The heat, so intense that sweat dripped even when standing still, stretched into the night—surely someone of noble birth, now quartered in the servants’ quarters, was shuddering in discomfort from this unfamiliar misery.

Yet even in such heat, Edwin—impeccably dressed and impassive—astonished the staff even more, who’d already been shocked by Rodinia’s sweltering climate.

All windows and double doors of the study stood open. The cross-breeze flowing through helped cool the air somewhat. As Edwin methodically worked through the mountain of letters and documents, he encountered Sophie, who had brought him a cool drink.

Thanks to Vivian’s fall from noble-born miss to scullery maid, Sophie too had plummeted from personal attendant to a common servant like the others.

Edwin glanced at Sophie as she placed the drink on his desk. Just as she turned to leave, the Corsage cubic zirconia pinned to her chest caught the sunlight, dazzling his eyes and drawing his attention.

“Sophie.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Sophie, holding a tray, halted mid-step.

“Where did you get that?”

Edwin pointed to her chest. Realizing what he meant, Sophie’s eyes widened as she quickly covered the Corsage.

“I—I didn’t steal it! It was… a gift! Miss Ebelline gave it to me last time! You can check—it’s truly not stolen!”

Servants were never free from suspicion, so Sophie vehemently protested her innocence.

“Ebelline’s gift?”

“Yes! The young lady sold her embroidery to buy it for me!”

Trending

Unaware of what her master—the estate’s owner—might expect or demand from her, Sophie rejoiced in the gift.

Edwin opened a desk drawer and placed a heavy pouch on the table.

“Take that. Leave this.”

Leaning back in his chair, he pointed alternately between the pouch on the desk and Sophie’s Corsage. Sophie’s eyes, wide with shock—not just from suspicion—flicked back and forth between the Corsage and the money pouch.

Soon realizing what she might lose, Sophie clutched the Corsage so tightly it might crush a petal.

“I—I’m so sorry, Your Grace! It’s a gift—it means everything to me!”

“There won’t be a better opportunity than this. You should exchange it.”

Her eyes wavered as she glanced at the money pouch, visibly torn. But then, as if she’d made up her mind, she refused to loosen her grip on the Corsage.

“No, no! I don’t need money! I’m truly sorry, Your Grace—I’ll take my leave now!”

She bowed sharply and fled through the open double doors in mere seconds. Left alone with the pouch, Edwin returned it to the drawer with a displeased expression.

He tried to refocus on his documents, but Ebelline’s Corsage tugged at his thoughts.

Remembering her thoughtful face as she chose a gift to please Sophie, a controllable impulse stirred within him.

Feeling no need to suppress it, Edwin left the study. He asked Abernathy about Vivian’s whereabouts and headed straight for her.

It had been three weeks since she arrived in Rodinia, and this was the first time he’d sought her out since their meeting. Vivian still refused to surrender—so stubborn and tenacious that Edwin almost wanted to cheer her on.

Thus, a small curiosity arose: to see Vivian’s ridiculous appearance after falling from the highest rank to the lowest—and to see just how much amusement that sight might bring.

Descending the stairs, he headed toward the estate’s back entrance. As Edwin stepped outside, quilts hung tightly across clotheslines fluttered in the wind. Between the swaying fabrics, fragments of conversation drifted like gusts of air.

“Young lady! You really must finish quickly!”

“At this pace, what’ll we do? The laundry hasn’t even been hung properly—it’ll dry wrinkled!”

A soft voice answered after a giggle. It was Vivian’s voice. At the same moment, far ahead between the flapping white sheets, her back shimmered under the brilliant sunlight.

Her uniform was far dirtier than before, and her golden hair—pressed haphazardly at her nape—was soaked with sweat.

In this state, Vivian groaned while hanging a wet quilt. The empty basket beside her suggested it was her final load.

“Once you’re done, hurry to the barn. You’re already so late—Caroline will be furious.”

“Yes. I’m going now.”

Just as Edwin spotted her, Vivian tucked the empty basket under her arm and vanished instantly.

“Ah, well. At least having Ebelline around makes the day feel more relaxed. That silly girl does whatever she’s told.”

“Isn’t that how a kite with a broken string behaves? I’m so curious—what on earth could she have said to His Grace to make him subject a noble-born miss to such humiliation?”

“Exactly! She must’ve been incredibly ungrateful and shameless.”

“She deserves it. A woman like that should drown in dung. Don’t you think Merian’s clever about these things?”

“Oh, by the way—we’d better hurry after them or we’ll miss the show. Pushing her into the laundry tub hardly got a reaction last time…”

As they chattered excitedly, a large shadow approached them. When the shadow, cast sharply under the clear light, reached them, the maid in front tilted her head curiously.

It didn’t take long before they realized the shadow’s owner was the master of the estate—and instantly froze like statues.

Edwin’s blue eyes briefly swept over them before moving on. Behind him, Abernathy—who had arrived slightly late with other staff—quickly assessed the situation and sternly warned the two maids.

***

Upon reaching the barn, Vivian placed the empty basket on a haystack and wiped her sweat.

The sight of stacked hay reminded her of yesterday’s nightmare. The memory of frantically overturning hay until her body ached was still vivid—her shoulders still throbbed.

Last night, the pain had been so severe she worried she might lose use of her arms, and she’d stifled tears in silence. Though the ache hadn’t fully subsided, she gritted her teeth and pushed through—it wasn’t disabling, at least.

Shaking off the nightmare, Vivian entered the barn without pausing to catch her breath. She saw Caroline’s back, bent over something on the barn floor. Not wanting to show her exhaustion, Vivian deliberately forced a smile.

Slap!

Startled by something unexpected drenching her, Vivian flailed her arms to regain balance. Her senses snapped awake instantly—the stench assaulting her nose was unbearable.

“Oh my! Miss! Why were you standing there? What should I do? I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”

Looking down in shock at her ruined appearance, Vivian finally realized what had attacked her.

It was livestock manure.

She’d been drenched with an entire bucket of it—collected to be dumped all at once.

Caroline, the cause of this disaster, stamped her feet in distress. The stench was so overpowering that, even as she fretted, Caroline held her nose and nearly cried.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I tripped while carrying the bucket out, and it just…”

Vivian’s lips remained tightly shut. She ought to say it was fine—but she was afraid to look at Caroline’s face, terrified of confronting the sincerity there.

“I’m really sorry, miss. We’ll need to clean all this up too… What should we do? Should I help? I do have other chores, but if you’re truly overwhelmed…”

“I’m fine.”

Vivian’s voice finally came out, her resolve having steadied. It took evident effort for her to lift her head and manage a smile.

“Just be more careful next time. Go ahead—I’ll clean this myself.”

ads

“I’m truly sorry. Then I’ll leave it to you.”

Caroline’s footsteps receded, circling around Vivian as if avoiding a demon’s aura.

Silence returned, and the shameful stench clung stubbornly. Wearing livestock manure in this summer heat, Vivian worried the stink might reach the village—but the acrid smell stung her eyes until tears welled up.

Her soiled, mashed clothes felt sticky. Though nausea threatened, Vivian endured in silence and continued her work. All the while, her dung-dampened skirt clung to her thighs, and the unpleasant sensation of filth sliding down her skin pushed her humiliation to despair.

It was around then that Edwin reached the barn doorway. Vivian, drenched in filth, remained alone in the barn—crouched down, cleaning the dirty floor.

It was truly absurd.

The downfall of a noble from prestigious Preston. The degradation of a highborn noblewoman. The foul, repulsive stench emanating from a woman who once seemed defined only by floral fragrances.

It wasn’t unexpected—in fact, it was what he’d wanted—yet Edwin felt no interest.

Her body, accustomed only to privilege and comfort, should’ve had no immunity to such degradation. Yet Vivian bore it staunchly, without shedding a tear.

Her small, filthy hands, floundering clumsily on the floor, stirred distant memories.

She was the same noble girl who’d sat in the carriage fourteen years ago. The innocent girl with shimmering golden hair, who’d smiled naively back then. The foolish child who’d shown him pity once she learned his plight. Had that girl—who once worried about others’ futures as if the world’s storms would never touch her—foreseen her own future?

Could she have known she’d one day endure such humiliation—smeared with filth by giggling maids who mocked a young lady too precious even to touch?

“Your Grace.”

Vivian’s eyes, hidden in the barn’s shadow, moved toward the sound. When her gaze met Edwin’s, her plump lips parted in dismay, as if struck by lightning.

Her ashen eyes—flickering with subtly tangled emotions—betrayed unmistakable turmoil.

And meeting that gaze, Edwin was seized by a fourth, unrefined impulse.

“Pull her out.”

He issued a cold command to Abernathy. Vivian, dazed, snapped back to awareness. As Abernathy signaled the servants behind him, Vivian abruptly stood, resisting.

“W-wait! Y-your Grace! Just a moment!”

The servants approached to drag Vivian from the barn. At her desperate cry, they hesitated and glanced at Edwin—but his stern eyes showed no intention of relenting.

“Pull her out.”

There was no hesitation in his order. The servants seized Vivian’s flailing arms and dragged her forcibly outside the barn.

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