/
Today, the music store on 12th Rahner Street appeared deserted. Aside from the tired-looking owner seated behind the worn-out display shelves, there were just two customers present. One was a middle-aged woman leisurely browsing through sheet music, while the other was a young lady who seemed out of breath. The speakers filled the space with a vibrant waltz, its melody blending with the shimmering specks of dust suspended in the air.
“Why the rush? You still have ten minutes left,” Theodora chuckled, breezing past Odette with a leisurely stroll, seemingly relishing the experience.
Sauntering along the aisles adorned with stacks of antiquated music books, Theodora paused when she reached a corner where an abandoned piano sat, obstructing the view. It provided an ideal spot for a private conversation.
“I’m not surprised,” Theodora said calmly, turning her body to directly face Odette, who had hastily caught up with her. Although Odette appeared disheveled from her hurried arrival, Theodora’s gaze, while tranquil, carried an underlying sense of stern restraint.
The child displayed remarkable intelligence, leaving no doubt that the first and foremost requirement had been met.
“Why did you summon me through such a preposterously threatening letter?” Odette began boldly, taking a deep breath to deliver her opening statement. Theodora nonchalantly shrugged and flipped open a nearby music book.
“I came across a letter penned by Duke Dyssen himself. It appears that he has regained his complete memory of the day he forgot due to the shock of the accident. How much longer do you intend to perpetuate this falsehood?”
“Are you suggesting that my father personally sent the letter to you?” Odette inquired, seeking clarification. Theodora, with a leisurely demeanor, continued browsing through the bookshelves, a smile playing on her lips. Despite Odette’s visibly pale complexion, she met Theodora’s gaze without hesitation.
“I suppose that’s true,” Theodora responded casually.
“I believe my father has misunderstood something,”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, as you mentioned, my father must have been profoundly affected by the incident that day. It appears that his memories have been greatly distorted as a result.”
“Ah, distorted memories,” Theodora remarked.
“I regret that you recklessly believed the words of a patient who was in a vulnerable state of mind and body. I will give you the benefit of the doubt this time, but I kindly request that you refrain from insulting me and Tira in such a manner again. Furthermore, I hope you will cease prying into my whereabouts.”
Without displaying any surprise, Theodora appreciated the fact that Odette possessed a bolder side than her appearance suggested.
“If you have nothing else to add, I shall take my leave,” Odette declared, maintaining a composed demeanor. After carefully scanning her surroundings, she bid a polite farewell.
Theodora silently observed her departure, a hint of delight sparkling in her eyes. She had initially regarded Odette as a pawn to be cautiously utilized, but this unforeseen turn of events brought her a sense of satisfaction.
While a lone woman might not possess the ability to single-handedly bring Bastian down, her involvement could still result in a substantial impact. Even if their plans didn’t unfold exactly as intended, they had little to lose. After all, their relationship was far from its best state.
If Bastian, upon uncovering his wife’s act of betrayal, opted for a divorce, it could potentially be a blessing in disguise. It could serve as an opportunity to swiftly tarnish his painstakingly built reputation. Being cast out from the Emperor’s favor would be an ideal outcome, leaving no room for improvement.
“Wouldn’t it be embarrassing to be so confident in front of me?” Theodora’s low humming voice blended into the music. Her heart felt like it was sinking, but Odette turned around without showing anything.
Don’t be swayed by her.
“Mrs. Palmer.” As Odette tried to convince herself and took a few steps forward, an unexpected name reached her ears. “Does the name ring a bell? The wife of the building caretaker, with whom you resided for three years. Your father thought she might be a valuable witness,” Theodora’s voice echoed with a hint of amusement.
Odette stifled a groan, feeling a lump forming in her throat, and abruptly halted her steps.
Tira’s claim to have seen the caretaker’s wife behind the stair railing flashed through Odette’s mind. Her own image, dismissed as delusions stemming from fear, followed closely behind.
Did Mrs. Palmer really see that?
As Odette attempted to recollect her memories of that day, her efforts only served to intensify her confusion.
“Duke Dyssen requested a three-way meeting, urging the presence of Tira and Mrs. Palmer at the hospital. If his heartless daughter chooses to remain oblivious until the end, I believe it would be fitting to alleviate him of his injustice,” Theodora contemplated aloud. “If you depart in this manner, I shall consider it a positive indication. Naturally, I will need to discuss this with Bastian.”
Keep going. I have to keep going.
Pressing forward was imperative. Odette compelled herself with unwavering resolve, yet she found herself unable to even twitch a finger.
Her father’s memories had resurfaced, and there was no longer any denying that fact. Moreover, it appeared that Theodora Klauswitz had become privy to all of those recollections.
Tira…
Odette leaned against a bookshelf, seeking support for her faltering legs. Her little sister quivered on her trembling lips, and her breath accelerated to a point where concealing it became impossible. It felt as though she was confronting the scorching noon sun, or rather, a darkness so impenetrable that not even an inch could be discerned ahead.
“Now, it appears we can have a little conversation.”
Theodora’s footsteps, previously resonating in unison, came to a halt behind Odette.
“Bastian is still unaware, isn’t he? That calculating man wouldn’t have married a woman harboring such a dangerous secret, would he?” Her hand slithered like a water snake, wrapping around Odette’s shoulder. “An illegitimate daughter who attempted to kill her own father, and an elder sister who became an accomplice to such a half-sister. A father left crippled by the actions of these two daughters. And now, the central figure in that incident is the daughter of Princess Helene and the wife of the war hero, Bastian Klauswitz. This is an incredibly amusing situation, don’t you think? It would be enough to ignite a scandal that would send the entire Empire into a frenzy.”
The dormant gramophone suddenly resumed playing music, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room. Odette, opening her tightly shut eyes, instinctively shrugged off the uncomfortable grip on her shoulder. As she pivoted to confront Theodora Klauswitz, her mind unexpectedly cleared.
“If your intention was to create a scandal and besmirch Bastian’s reputation, there would have been no need for this summoning and the accompanying threats,” Odette looked at Theodora with an unwavering coldness and composure. “Tell me what your motive is. I am willing to listen.”
“Before we proceed, allow me to ask you one question,”
Theodora stated, placing the sheet music down and crossing her arms loosely. The sunlight filtering through the window cast its glow upon Odette, who stood trembling yet upright.
“Do you truly love your husband?”
The chilling question reverberated alongside the phonograph’s melody. Odette found herself unable to provide a straightforward response. No matter how many times she pressed her lips together, the outcome remained unchanged. The immense chasm between her sense of duty and her genuine feelings seemed insurmountable.
“Very well,” Theodora nodded, as if receiving a gratifying answer. “It appears we can now proceed with our business.”
*.·:·.✧.·:·.*
Bastian traversed the hallway that linked the bedroom of the couple, his steps slower than usual. The exhaustion he had accumulated seemed to intensify, further exacerbated by the intoxication following his shower.
His application for deployment had been submitted successfully. Despite his outward display of disappointment, Admiral Demel, thankfully, did not exhibit further stubbornness. However, Bastian found himself paying the price of being the admiral’s drinking companion until late into the night.
As the passage door opened silently, a gentle voice emerged from the shadows.
“Bastian.”
Bastian’s gaze shifted gradually to the dancing flames of the fireplace, only to discover Odette, whom he presumed to be asleep, standing before him.
“Oh, Odette. I thought you were already in slumber,” Bastian stole a quick glance at the table clock resting on the mantelpiece above the crackling fire. The hour had already struck midnight, typically signaling her deep rest.
The silence deepened, punctuated only by the crackling of firewood that filled the air. Bastian patiently waited, but Odette remained unresponsive.
Bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace, she fixed her gaze upon him, unbroken and without end. The lace shawl, once resting on the chair’s armrest, slipped silently to the floor, unnoticed by her.
Steering away from his intended path towards the bed, Bastian changed course and moved closer to the fireplace. Retrieving the fallen shawl, he tenderly extended it to her.
Taking a step back, Bastian observed as Odette hastily enveloped herself with the shawl, her pale countenance carrying a subtle flush. It bordered on the comical to witness her assume such a modest, almost nun-like demeanor, yet it was not entirely an inaccurate portrayal. After all, she remained a bride whose marriage had not yet been consummated.
Should everything unfold as intended and the contract come to fruition, Odette would find herself transformed into a chaste divorcee. And the subsequent husband would be her inaugural partner.
As Bastian’s musings reached this juncture, a chuckle inadvertently slipped from his lips.
A virgin divorcee.
Truly, the world harbors an array of peculiar word pairings.
Yet, if he persisted in such frivolous behavior, it appeared he risked earning the reputation of a divorced and emasculated man. This was not a trifling matter; his actions held weight beyond mere thoughtlessness.
“I believe you’ve had quite a bit to drink, Bastian,”  Odette said, tightening the shawl around herself.
Bastian smiled and nodded, acknowledging the pitiful nature of his thoughts. They seemed to be the lingering effects of indulging Admiral Demel’s desire for excessive drinking.
“Now, let us retire to bed,”
Odette advised with genuine concern, as if tending to an ailing person. While the unnecessary worry didn’t leave him with a pleasant sensation, it also didn’t entirely displease him.
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
“Why don’t you sing me a lullaby as well?” Bastian asked playfully.
Odette’s eyes widened, taken aback by the unexpected request. Though she appeared aloof due to her lack of emotional fluctuations, she possessed an unexpectedly innocent side.
Bastian released a gentle sigh, closing the remaining gap with his final stride. Odette, startled, instinctively took a step back, but Bastian’s movement to place his hand on her shoulder was swifter.
“Odette,” he uttered her name with a distinct fervor, infusing his voice with passion.
Bastian’s huge hand that had been hanging on to her shoulder and had now let go covered her face as she struggled to keep her breath under control. She struggled a little, but Bastian’s hold was too strong to be overcome by her efforts.
“Bastian, please don’t do that. I… “
Before Odette could finish her pleading, Bastian leaned in and gave her a passionate kiss. His breath, which was thick with the smell of alcohol and flowed through their opened lips, took her by surprise and did not give her a time to react.
It wasn’t a kiss that was aggressive and forceful like the one that came before.
Bastian devoured her lips in deliberately before entwining his tongue with hers. His kiss was quite delicate, but it lingered for a very long time. The same thing happened when he gently stroked her cheek with his hand.
Odette merely bore the strange experience with a blank expression. It seemed to her that Bastian had become intoxicated because the booze that he consumed. No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to conceal the delicious moans that slipped between their combined lips, which only served to intensify her feelings of embarrassment.
The kiss lasted she had forgotten about that terrifying evening.
Odette, fixated on Bastian with a vacant stare, averted her gaze, overcome by an indescribable sensation. However, the memory of his gaze, brimming with an unfamiliar longing, lingered in her thoughts, etched into her consciousness.
“Why?”
Her mind lost in contemplation, Bastian approached her once more. Before she could attempt to push him away, his lips gently met her forehead.
Odette tried to create distance between herself and Bastian dwindled, but her hands dropped in a gesture of helplessness. Overwhelming confusion overwhelmed her, eroding the remnants of her earlier resolve, leaving behind a persistent question that intertwined hope and despair.
Starting from her eyelids and tracing a path across her cheeks, the journey of Bastian’s kisses continued until they reached the bridge of her nose, culminating on her lips.
Bastian exhaled a soft sigh, parting his lips in anticipation. His hand, cradling the back of her head, tenderly caressed Odette’s disheveled locks, much like her own gentle touch when she comforted Margrethe. It was a touch imbued with tenderness and authenticity.
“Bastian….”
Odette whispered amid her lips, reddened and moist, infused with a glimmer of hope. From his silent gaze, a comforting warmth radiated, reminiscent of the cozy glow emanating from the fireplace.
“Is there something that you wanted to say…?”
She nervously raised her hand and grabbed the cuff of Bastian’s sleeve as she raised her voice.