The siblings were sitting around the table for breakfast. Mrs. Bakus and Roger, who had stayed overnight at the Marsen mansion, were also there.

“Good morning, Roger. Did you sleep well?”

“A bit uncomfortable, but decent enough.”

Roger swallowed a yawn when I asked. So far, things were as I had expected.

“Silke, did you sleep well?”

Except for Father, who was sitting properly at the table instead of going to work.

The sun may have risen, but the situation was no different from last night’s dinner.

Father was even more excessively kind to the lady than yesterday. The lady seemed to have somewhat adapted to his kindness, speaking naturally with Father without stammering like yesterday.

Here we go again.

How far would the story go today? The Marsen chronicle had progressed to Grandfather’s youth and Father’s childhood.

That meant Father’s youth story, which would mark the climax of the Marsen chronicle, was still to come.

It would be a long and arduous tale. In reality, he probably lived comfortably without want, having been born to good parents.

“Being the only child, all expectations naturally fell on me. Looking back, it was truly difficult.”

According to Father, he was a complete person with no need for schooling.

Yet somehow he had so many problems that he inherited the company late, and received his title later than others.

Father described this as being unlucky. The issue was that no one except Father thought he was unlucky.

Father may have lacked talent, but he was born with luck. So much so that he would have been dead without it.

“In the end, my father passed down the title and everything else to me…”

“Then, Count, was that around when you married Isabel? That’s how I remember it.”

As Mrs. Bakus smoothly changed the subject, Father’s expression immediately soured.

“Well, yes.”

“I still remember it clearly. Isabel said you received a marriage proposal right after inheriting the title.”

“Is that so? Well, this story isn’t important…”

“Isabel was writing a paper refuting a published physics theory. The students under her were also conducting research together, and none of them could sleep.”

Father’s words were cut off.

“I-I’m hearing this for the first time.”

He tried repeatedly to regain control of the conversation, but failed each time.

“But I was so surprised when Isabel suddenly said she was getting married.”

“The marriage talks did happen rather suddenly…”

“That too, but Isabel gave up what she was doing for marriage. That amazing work.”

Amazing work?

Mrs. Bakus’s voice, growing more animated, vividly recounted those days. The group of three was said to be the most capable young astronomers among existing students.

“Isabel was the core of the group formed for research. She was the most brilliant.”

Mrs. Bakus recalled desks piled high with papers, inkwells emptied dry, and blackboards that remained chalky even after thorough cleaning.

“I acted as an assistant when Isabel was researching. Roles like gathering broken quills to throw away. Everyone was so passionate that there was no one suitable to clean the lab. That’s how meticulous and important the research was.”

Mrs. Bakus was the only one excited. Father showed little interest in a story he found unengaging. Yet unable to completely ignore it, he kept giving soulless responses.

At that moment, Isabel, who had been silently listening to her story, set down her cup with a thud. Mrs. Bakus, who had been reminiscing about those days, became aware of the present at Isabel’s reaction.

“Stop talking, Silke.”

Isabel continued, wiping around her mouth.

“It wasn’t a very important study, and I don’t remember it well anyway.”

At those words, Mrs. Bakus hesitated, then slightly furrowed her brow.

“No. I still remember it vividly, Isabel. The theory you were refuting also helped prove theories in other fields. But you found a small error value in this theory, Isabel. If this could be proven, it might have changed conservative views about women.”

“That’s only if it was proven. I only did the research, I didn’t prove anything.”

“You didn’t publish it. The research was progressing well. If only the pressure of a marriage proposal hadn’t come to you that day, Isabel.”

The conversation that started with the Marsen chronicle had now turned into a conflict between Mrs. Bakus and Isabel. Mrs. Bakus, who had always brought up the past to Isabel, vented her pent-up frustrations as if exasperated.

‘Why?’

Mrs. Bakus was genuinely saddened by Isabel, who denied her past glory and gave up her talent.

‘…She must have had so much talent for Mrs. Bakus to be this regretful.’

I could no longer deny Isabel’s abilities. For someone else to have such a reaction, Isabel must have been not just talented, but exceptional.

Perhaps that exceptionality still remains in Isabel even now.

“I should get up now.”

“Isabel.”

“Please continue your conversation with the Count.”

Isabel chose to leave. Not long after she stood up, the sound of a door closing was clearly heard. The maid who was refilling empty cups spilled water at the sound.

“Ah, I-I’m sorry.”

The maid hastily wiped up the spilled water with an apology.

But no one scolded or even glanced at the maid. The siblings, unable to hide their bewilderment throughout, were looking at where Isabel had been seated.

Father, displeased with Isabel for ruining the mood and disappearing abruptly, cleared his throat.

Mrs. Bakus, with a dark expression, had stiff gestures as if uncomfortable in her seat.

“She probably just lost her appetite. So don’t worry and let’s continue our previous conversation.”

Father, sensing an opportunity, tried to speak about what he wanted to discuss.

“I’m sorry. I’ve lost my appetite too.”

“Pardon?”

“I should get up first. I’m sorry.”

As Mrs. Bakus also left her seat, the atmosphere in the dining room inevitably darkened.

Even Father, who had been chattering away, quickly fell silent. He chewed on a few pieces of meat, looked over the faces of his children, and then left the dining room.

Roger and I, who had stayed until the end, put down our utensils without finishing our food.

“Mother always envied Mrs. Marsen.”

Roger said, plucking a few violin strings. It was after we had finished eating and returned to the room.

“She envied her?”

I couldn’t understand. If Isabel had envied Mrs. Bakus, that would make sense, but why the opposite? When I asked again, Roger handed me the tuned violin and continued.

“Mother continued her work as a doctor even after marrying Father. It was what Mother wanted, and Father didn’t interfere with Mother’s work.”

“But?”

“The problem was that Mother was afraid of blood. So she didn’t take on many surgeries, and would feel dizzy at the sight of severe injuries. I heard later that during surgeries, Mother couldn’t do anything when patients became violent. She tried to restrain fleeing patients but lacked the strength to do so.”

Though Roger spoke calmly, his expression looked bitter.

“That’s why she was kicked out of the hospital and started doing charity work.”

Roger now took out his own instrument from his bag. I put down the violin Roger had handed me and observed his actions.

“Even so, there’s no reason for Mrs. Bakus to envy Mother.”

“Around that time, Father had a hugely successful performance. The audience, critics, and nobles were full of praise. Mother was happy about Father’s success, but also seemed anxious. A few days later, Mother quit being a doctor. On her own.”

Roger tuned his own violin as well. As his fingers moved, the subtly changing notes creaked, producing an unstable sound.

“Mother was as ambitious as Father. She overcame the hardships of being a doctor and the discrimination she faced among men. But she gave up on her own. Not because of external factors, but because of her own limitations.”

Roger looked at me as if asking if I understood now.

It meant that even if she wanted to be a doctor again, she couldn’t because she had reached her limit. Mrs. Bakus apparently tried several times after that to walk the path of a doctor. And failed each time.

“Is that why Mrs. Bakus keeps bringing up the past to Mother?”

“Well, yes. Mrs. Marsen was said to have a lot of talent. Many people tried to stop her when she said she would give up her research for marriage. I heard there are still many people waiting for Mrs. Marsen to return to research.”

I wondered how Mrs. Bakus must feel when she looks at Isabel. As Roger said, while envying Isabel, she might also see Isabel as cowardly for turning away from her dreams despite being able to achieve them, unlike herself.

I had a lot to think about. It didn’t feel like someone else’s business, and I was scared by how realistic it all was. It wouldn’t be strange if the stories and circumstances of those two people happened to me.

But for me, who dreams of happiness, both situations are ones I must avoid.

“Let’s stop this conversation here. Actually, I’ve selected a piece. It’s an easy one, so you should be able to play it with practice.”

“Suddenly? Well, whatever. Let’s do that piece.”

“Without even listening?”

Roger frowned as he watched me answer listlessly.

He noticed that I was still lost in thoughts about Mrs. Bakus and sighed. Then he placed the violin under his chin and started moving the bow.

The softly moving bow and slowly resounding melody caught my attention. The sorrowful piece stirred my emotions. As the piece reached its climax, Roger stopped the bow.

“That’s it for now. It’s a piece called ‘And the Podium.’ What do you think?”

“It’s nice, but can I play it?”

“I’ll teach you. Also, you’re my fiancée, so you can tell me if you have any worries or concerns.”

Roger spoke casually, as if trying to ease my worries. It made me smile without realizing.

“Hey, are you laughing?”

“Fiancée, you say. You really are serious.”

“If you don’t like it, break it off.”

Roger’s voice became timid. Had he gotten upset already?

“Roger.”

“What.”

“If you finish the performance, I’ll seriously consider the engagement.”

Roger made an incredulous expression. Then,

“…So I just need to play it to the end?”

What?

“No changing your mind.”

“W-Wait a moment!”

Roger started playing the violin in earnest.