There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 8

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The night sky over the capital, now cleared of clouds, was in full swing with a dense party of stars. Several days earlier, torrential rains had deluged central Newway, causing rivers to overflow in villages quite near the capital and leaving behind no small number of flood victims.

The celestial celebration, oblivious to earthly troubles, was hardly something deserving blame.

As Edwin opened the balcony door to step inside, the violin of Franz—the prodigious composer who had stirred Newway into a frenzy—sang out mournfully. Noblewomen, dabbing their teary eyes with handkerchiefs, couldn’t stop praising Franz’s performance.

But here—despite witnessing the same performance—Edwin’s thoughts ran elsewhere.

How much had Marchioness Dinison spent to secure that composer?

The hostess of tonight’s gathering was none other than Marchioness Dinison, newly crowned queen of the social season, and for a woman expected to flaunt her wealth and prestige, no expenditure—however large—would have seemed odd. Still, due to the recent flood, Marchioness Dinison had also had to humbly endure outright, jealousy-tinged criticism.

Franz’s performance ended with his dazzling virtuosity. Noblewomen who were usually his devoted fans now dramatically pretended to swoon, marking the climax of the main event.

“Oh! Over here, over here! Gideon, come this way.”

Edwin turned his head toward the clear voice of a middle-aged woman, easily audible even over the audience’s thunderous applause. After taking a sip of champagne, he saw a young man of similar appearance appear behind the composed woman.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Your Grace. I’m Elizabeth Zimmermann. We’ve exchanged letters before, haven’t we?”

It was customary at this time of year for the reigning queen of the social season to host a party, drawing in nobility from across Newway—including the royal family—to foster camaraderie. Only those elites handpicked by the queen herself were invited, and the Zimmermann family was among them.

Regardless of the reason, Gideon appeared perfectly suitable as a match for Charlotte. Since this tiresome party had turned unexpectedly useful, Edwin resolved to thank Marchioness Dinison rather than criticize her.

The Zimmermanns were a modest noble family. Baron Zimmermann himself was humble, hardworking, and irreproachable in matters of women—yet possessed just enough authority to speak up when needed, making him an ideal candidate to become Charlotte’s husband.

“I believe this is our first meeting, Baroness Zimmermann. I’m Edwin Beitnes.”

Edwin accepted the baroness’s greeting with a courteous smile. Then Baron Zimmermann stepped forward and gently removed his hat.

“It’s an honor to meet you at last, Your Grace. I’m Gideon Zimmermann.”

“I’ve heard much about you, Baron. It’s a pleasure. I’m Edwin Beitnes.”

Edwin extended his large hand. Gideon rubbed his palm against his trousers and then shook Edwin’s hand somewhat stiffly.

“Then, the two of you go ahead and talk. Gideon, don’t make any mistakes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

The gentle wrinkles at the corners of Baroness Zimmermann’s eyes as she smiled warmly enhanced the Zimmermann family’s likability.

Composer Franz had now fully exited the performance. With Franz—the evening’s top attraction—gone, the crowd’s attention shifted to the second main draw: Duke Beitnes. Even with Baron Zimmermann at his side, so many people came over to speak with him that conversation between the two men became impossible.

Amid the crowd jostling to say even a word, Gideon looked flustered. The two men, each holding a glass of champagne, moved to the quieter tearoom where the noise had subsided.

“Whew. It seems Your Grace’s popularity pierces the heavens even more than Franz’s.”

Gideon pulled a white handkerchief from inside his coat and wiped the sweat from his brow. Following Edwin’s silence, he lifted his eyes to find the duke quietly staring at the vase on the table.

At the yellow daffodils atop the pure white vase.

“Your Grace?”

At the call, Edwin’s blue eyes slowly turned toward Gideon.

“Since you’ve read my letter, I’ll get straight to the point. I’d like to hear your thoughts on a possible engagement between your ward, Miss Charlotte Windler, and myself.”

His voice was steady, as if he hadn’t faltered for even a moment. But his gaze dropped again, fixing intently on the daffodils—as though they, too, possessed eyes to meet his.

“Ahh—yes. While I’m certainly tempted by the terms Your Grace has proposed, I’d first like to meet Miss Windler myself.”

“You mean you’d decide after meeting Charlotte? If it’s her appearance you’re worried about, you needn’t be. She isn’t a classic beauty, but she’s quite charming.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

Gideon scratched the back of his head, suddenly bashful.

“If it’s not too much trouble—might you invite me to Rodinia? I’d like to spend some time talking with Miss Windler. If our hearts truly align, then perhaps…”

“Wait.”

Edwin, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the daffodils, finally raised them with a look of exasperation. His expression remained unreadable and flat, which only made Gideon more nervous.

“Are you trying to say marriage should only happen if you fall in love?”

“Yes… exactly.”

“I went through painstaking calculations and eliminated countless suitors—not to marry Charlotte off based on some trivial emotion, only to end up with you, Baron Zimmermann.”

“I understand… But still, wouldn’t it be kind to give Miss Windler the chance to fall in love?”

“Hmm.”

Edwin had lost interest in the conversation over such a trivial topic as love. This also dampened his favorable impression of Baron Zimmermann. His bored eyes settled back on the daffodils, and his hand reached out to gently stroke the yellow petals.

The smooth texture of the petals dragged his weary mind far back into the past.

Fourteen years ago, when he first arrived in Newway, the first thing he’d done was beg for food. Then he’d begged for work, and then for wages. Starvation had been routine. More often than not, he’d emptied his savings on medical bills after brawling with troublemakers on the street.

It was one spring day amidst that hand-to-mouth existence. While delivering milk to Baron Beitnes’s house, he noticed yellow daffodils blooming in front of the estate.

Their bright hue instantly reminded him of a childish, carefree little girl—her glossy golden hair falling to her shoulders, swaying gently with every jolt of the carriage.

He’d forgotten.

Forgotten the blond girl who’d sat nobly amid the chaos, forgotten as hunger clawed at him, as life and death hung in the balance, as heat and cold wore him down, as his family perished on the executioner’s block.

He crouched on the ground, gazing at the daffodils for a long while.

Trending

“Revenge, you see—it’s something you can only afford when life is comfortably settled. So you can’t seek revenge. Poor Sayer—you’ll just crawl through life and die like this. Let me comfort you, at least.”

The daffodils whispered like a demon in his ear, echoing the little girl’s voice.

“Very well.”

It was an impulse—just as it had been fourteen years ago when he’d crushed the daffodils in front of Baron Beitnes’s home—that now made him clench the petals in his fist.

“It’s not difficult to grant you the chance to fall in love.”

Gideon’s surprise at Edwin’s sudden action lasted only a moment—relief and unmistakable joy soon flooded his face at the duke’s consent.

“I’ll send you a formal invitation, Baron. Next time, let’s meet in Rodinia.”

Edwin opened his hand, and the crushed petals fell to the floor.

‘Who are you? Why did you ruin someone else’s flowers?’

If he hadn’t discovered those yellow daffodils that day… If he hadn’t thought of Ebelline upon seeing them… If he’d left in haste…

Then he never would have met Lady Beitnes.

Ebelline had been on every path he’d walked.

The very Ebelline who’d killed and revived him, killed and revived him again—leaving him thrashing in futile hope.

He now felt an urgent need to return to Rodinia. He couldn’t wait to see Ebelline’s face—the regretful expression she’d wear upon seeing the man resurrected by that little girl’s hand.

[This is the timeline separator]

Four days had passed since that week. Edwin’s absence from the ducal residence had lasted longer than anticipated. To the staff, Charlotte Windler proved far more difficult and demanding to handle than Duke Edwin Beitnes himself. While the true master of the house paid it no mind, Charlotte scolded the servants relentlessly over the slightest details.

And today—the master of Rodinia’s ducal manor had returned. Charlotte chased after every servant scrubbing the estate, issuing instructions down to the precise placement of statues. Even the seasoned butler surrendered completely, adjusting meticulously to Charlotte’s hypersensitive demands.

By the time Edwin’s carriage reached the gate, the staff had already lined up neatly in front of the manor, ready to welcome their master. As the rhythmic hoofbeats echoed along the manicured path past the front gate, Charlotte’s heart fluttered wildly.

The carriage halted before her. As a servant opened the door, the person Charlotte longed most to see stepped into view. Under the gentle sunlight, he stood tall and proud, planting his feet firmly on the ground before lifting his blue eyes toward her.

“Your Grace! You must be exhausted from your long journey.”

Charlotte approached without hesitation, but Edwin’s eyes met hers with indifference. After a brief, detached nod, he raised his gaze significantly higher. Charlotte’s head followed his.

Soon, he spotted Vivian peering down from a wide window—but the moment their eyes met, Vivian quickly ducked behind the curtain.

“…Did anything unusual happen in the capital?”

Edwin had known Vivian wouldn’t come out to greet him. Yet he was certain she’d be watching him from above.

“Nothing. As always.”

“You said you preferred leaving Rodinia quietly, but I never expected you’d depart without even telling me. I was a little hurt, Your Grace.”

“You’re not a child—don’t be hurt over such things, Charlotte.”

The pain of his cold tone squeezed her chest like a vise. Normally, she wouldn’t have minded—but after seeing his eyes search for Vivian first, his usual demeanor now filled her with resentment. Disappointed by his indifference, Charlotte trailed silently behind him.

There was no real conversation in their relationship. At most, he’d offer an appropriate reply when she initiated talk. He understood her better than anyone—yet cared less about her than anyone else.

And so, to capture his attention…

“Oh, by the way—on the day you left Rodinia, Miss Ebelline didn’t eat.”

She forced herself to speak the name she’d rather avoid.

“She didn’t eat?”

Edwin stopped walking. His expression remained distant, yet a faint moisture shimmered in his blue eyes.

“Did she refuse food the whole time I was away?”

“She only nibbled on light snacks instead. That day, she’d gotten soaked in the rain and taken a nasty fall—she looked a mess. It’s no wonder she felt unwell.”

“She was ill? Exactly where did it hurt?”

He didn’t sound worried. Edwin’s expression when thinking of Vivian was never this tender.

“She seemed to have a mild cold. She stayed in bed, completely still, for several days. So I made sure to bring her only easily digestible foods.”

“Why didn’t you give her honey water? Or herbal tea?”

“I took care of her every day while she was sick—soup, tea, everything. Honestly, I felt like her nurse.”

Charlotte pouted slightly, hoping he’d recognize how hard she’d worked during those difficult days.

“You really were the perfect nurse for Ebelline.”

A light, clean smile appeared at the corners of Edwin’s lips. His eyes curved softly into crescent moons. The unexpected smile struck her heart hard. A trembling heart sometimes leads to mistaken judgment.

“Miss Ebelline seems fully recovered now, but she still refuses to take off the scarf she’s been wearing. When I asked out of curiosity, she said her throat felt sore. Oh! And Miss Ebelline bought you a gift—but because she fell that day, the present got ruined too.”

“A gift?”

“Yes. She apparently wanted to give you a tie. But guess what’s funny?”

Edwin gestured for her to continue.

“The tie she bought was strikingly similar to one you already own.”

“Did you tell her they looked alike?”

ads

“Yes. She thanked me for pointing it out.”

Edwin chuckled and nodded. He resumed walking, and Charlotte hurried after him with quick little steps to match his long stride.

“And since Miss Ebelline only has one dress, I lent her one of mine. Of course, she’s taller than me, so it looked a bit small on her.”

“You truly are Ebelline’s nurse. Well done.”

For a brief moment, Charlotte forgot her irritation toward Vivian. Whenever she spoke of Vivian, Edwin smiled—showed interest, engaged in cheerful conversation. That alone was enough to deeply satisfy Charlotte.

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