There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 83

Winter in Rodinia was brutally harsh.

When the sharp winds blew, the cold pierced to the bone. Fortunately, on windless days, the chill wasn’t severe enough to be called brutal. The real problem was the wind. Today, Rodinia’s wind danced like a blade, freezing the earth in its wake. The Duke’s residence, too, fell into a lethargic, subdued atmosphere under the relentless gusts.

Charlotte and Vivianne sat in front of the fireplace, where warm flames flickered, sewing and knitting, each lost in their own thoughts, working in silence.

Charlotte let her knitting needle slip and fall into her lap. The time for the master of the estate to return was approaching, and that meant Charlotte’s time to leave this place was drawing near.

She had now resigned herself to everything. She had chosen to leave behind the pitiful attachment she had once clung to—the foolish days spent trying to avoid an inevitable farewell.

Baron Zimmerman would be her husband for life.

Gideon had suggested they start anew in the house he had prepared for them in Farrington, where the wedding would take place. He had even said he’d like them to decorate the home together, if she didn’t mind. But Edwin had stubbornly refused to let her travel far before the wedding.

Gideon Zimmerman was a warm, gentle, and kind man.

Though Edwin’s advice hadn’t quite settled in her heart, Charlotte firmly believed the day would come when she would understand his intentions.

Her gaze naturally turned to Vivianne.

At some point, Vivianne had started embroidering again, something she hadn’t done in a while. She stitched with a blind intensity, as if trying to run from something.

Unless something unexpected happened, Edwin and Vivianne would remain in Rodinia.

As Charlotte felt this impending separation more clearly, a sharp pang constricted her chest.

She let out a stifled sound and hunched forward in pain.

Vivianne, startled, quickly looked up. Seeing Charlotte curled forward, she rushed to her with a worried expression and touched her shoulder.

“Charlotte! Are you alright? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Charlotte reassured her, straightening up and forcing a smile as the pain gradually subsided.

But a dull ache lingered faintly.

“This happens from time to time lately. But it goes away just as suddenly.”

“Shouldn’t you see a doctor? Have you told His Grace?”

“I’m really fine. It’s nothing serious enough to bother a doctor with. Anyway, what about you, Vivianne? Has something happened lately? You seem deep in thought.”

Charlotte gently changed the subject, unwilling to let Vivianne worry too much.

Ever since she had witnessed their secret tryst in the library, she had been certain of one thing: something had shifted between the two of them.

Edwin was no longer someone Vivianne merely wanted to avoid. They must have acknowledged each other’s feelings—whispered in secret, made promises about the future.

And perhaps that future was the reason for Vivianne’s current unease, Charlotte dared to guess.

“Ah… is that so? I guess… I’ve just been feeling a little sad at the thought of you leaving.”

“When I leave Rodinia, we won’t get to see each other very often. But… when you and His Grace visit Farrington, you’ll definitely stop by, right?”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

Charlotte smiled softly and picked up her knitting needles again.

“I’ll give you a gift later.”

A red scarf was gradually growing from the tip of the needle.

“A gift? What kind of gift?”

“I’m thinking of making some pretty lace. I’ll give it to you when you get married someday.”

“Ah…”

Vivianne let out a long sigh. It wasn’t a particularly cheerful reaction.

Charlotte couldn’t quite understand the reason behind her troubled, confused expression.

“… Do you really think I’ll ever get married? Once I’ve repaid my debt to His Grace, I’ll probably leave this place and become a maid at someone else’s manor. That’s the extent of the peaceful future I’ve imagined for myself.”

If there was one thing that disappointed Charlotte about Vivianne, it was that she never brought up Edwin on her own.

Charlotte had a feeling Vivianne would keep this hidden for a long time and only confess it on the day of Charlotte’s wedding, saying it had always been that way.

“That’s not possible,” Charlotte replied curtly, then withdrew her gaze.

The wind howled relentlessly, battering the window with persistent fury.

After experiencing Rodinia’s fierce wind, even Rottermond’s snow felt more nostalgic than ever.

“It’ll be fun when we go to Rottermond. It snows a lot there. Do you like snow, Vivianne?”

Her memories of Rottermond weren’t particularly pleasant, but Charlotte had always loved the snowy scenery and the memories that came with it.

She remembered making a snowman in a corner of the manor. As she worked on it, Edwin passed by and praised her, saying she was doing a good job.

Then, after disappearing for a moment, he returned holding a piece of carrot, which he silently stuck into the snowman’s blank face as a nose—

… All with that typically indifferent expression of his.

Remembering that day, a smile naturally spread across her face.

“As long as it’s not like the snow in Rodinia, yes. When I was in Preston, we had heavy snow every winter. Does it snow like that in Rottermond, too?”

“Yes, the snow falls thick and heavy enough to make snowmen. It’s truly beautiful. There’s no place more lovely than the forest trails on a snowy day—though of course, you can only go if the snowfall isn’t too heavy.”

“I really hope it snows. I want to see that forest path. I’m already looking forward to it.”

“It will snow. When it does, let’s go to the forest path together.”

Facing their separation, the two shared a meaningful promise, hoping only good memories would remain.

────── ✾ ──────

At last, the day came.

The day Charlotte would leave Rodinia for her wedding.

After bidding farewell to the servants, she climbed into the carriage.

Vivianne had wanted to spend time with her, especially since it was a journey marking her departure from Rodinia.

But Charlotte, saying she had a headache and wanted some quiet, chose to ride in the carriage with Roarke. Unintentionally, this left Vivianne alone with Edwin.

It was like that day again—the day she had played Jerome Raven’s song on the cello, the day she had once more hovered at the edge of a forbidden paradise.

That day, Vivianne realized for the first time that she could no longer push this man away.

What had enveloped her then was a strange rapture, an unfamiliar sensation she had never experienced before. The atmosphere that vibrated between them was more intense, more provocative than a kiss.

It had led her into an entirely new world.

But the moment her eyes met Edwin’s—those clear eyes—Vivianne saw her own corruption reflected in them. She had come dangerously close to forsaking her chastity, nearly stepping into that unfamiliar world he was leading her toward.

The dizzying realization was enough to shatter her already confused state.

How had it come to this?

The sense of foreseeing the inevitable catastrophe fueled a daily dread.

Since that day, Edwin had not sought Vivianne out even once. There had been no kisses, no repeat of that night—nothing.

In fact, he had grown even colder, as if he had never desired her in the first place.

Today was no different.

From the moment he stepped into the carriage, Edwin hadn’t glanced at Vivianne once.

It was unusual.

As she sat there watching him silently gaze out the window in the quiet, private space, an inexplicable pain settled in her chest.

“… Edwin.”

At her call, only his blue eyes shifted toward her. The dry, emotionless look in them was sharp enough to claw at her heart.

“They say the snowy winters in Rottermond are beautiful… Charlotte spoke so highly of them. I’ve been looking forward to it. Do you know when the snow will start to fall?”

In truth, maybe this was for the best.

What happened that day had likely extinguished any remaining interest Edwin had in her.

Men are like that, aren’t they? Once someone becomes too easy, they lose interest.

If Vivianne had known this would be the outcome, she would’ve made sure to seem unremarkable from the very beginning.

“I don’t know,” Edwin replied flatly.

Vivianne swallowed hard. Embarrassed, her eyes darted to the passing scenery outside the window.

Edwin had changed.

His warm voice, once asking her to go with him to Preston, echoed faintly in her ears.

Had that promise been something she dreamed of?

Edwin was now so drastically distant it felt unreal. The promise had already withered; only its death remained.

As the thought of that ending crept closer, tears welled in her eyes.

She had never felt such despair. Her chest ached as though it were being torn apart, then sank into numbness and emptiness.

She desperately wanted to deny the reality of her impending death, and wished Edwin would say something, anything—even meaningless words—just to shatter the silence.

But she couldn’t cry openly.

So Vivianne forced the tears back, swallowing them down.

While she struggled in silence, the unfeeling Edwin finally turned his gaze away from the window. Straightening his posture, he closed his tired eyes.

He looked exhausted.

It reminded her of the time they’d quarreled in a carriage, when he had tried to lean on her shoulder.

Compared to that day, today’s carriage ride was remarkably peaceful.

────── ✾ ──────

Charlotte, who had deliberately distanced herself from the two, sat blankly staring out the window.

Eventually, even the repetitive landscape bored her, and her eyes drifted toward Roarke, sitting across from her.

Rough-mannered Roarke had his arms crossed and eyes tightly shut.

She didn’t really want to talk to someone as inflexible as him, but she tried to overcome the odd discomfort she felt.

“Mr. Roarke.”

At her call, Roarke opened his eyes.

“After I marry the Baron… do you think His Grace will still consider me family?”

It was truly a useless question.

Even as she said it, she regretted it—how trivial it must have sounded to Roarke.

Still, she pushed aside her hesitation.

“I believe he will.”

With his eyes closed again, he seemed just as indifferent and cold as Edwin. Their long-standing friendship likely had much to do with their similar temperaments.

“And how can you be so sure?”

Roarke let out a short sigh, seemingly annoyed by her persistence, and opened his eyes again.

“As long as you don’t betray him first, His Grace will always remain where he is. That’s how he’s always been.”

Betrayal.

That word struck her ear like a sharp blow.

Could Charlotte Windler ever betray Edwin Baytness?

Such a thing was impossible—so Roarke’s words gave her hope: Edwin would always be there for her.

“However, he shows no mercy to those who betray him. If that ever happens, you’ll see the true nature of His Grace—the side that never bends.”

Charlotte laughed softly.

“I’d like to see that. It must be a side of him I’ve never known.”

Roarke stared at her without closing his eyes.

His gaze seemed to ask, Do you have another question?—But Charlotte had run out of things to say.

As silence settled in, Roarke shut his eyes comfortably again.

“When will His Grace… get married?”

The question finally left her lips with difficulty, and Roarke immediately opened his eyes wide.

Charlotte waited calmly for his answer.

“He said he’s going to Preston next spring, so… maybe the wedding will be in summer? Or… will he go with Vivianne? If they go together… maybe they’ll get married there? Preston is Vivianne’s hometown, after all.”

It took a while for Roarke to respond, as if he needed time to process her long string of questions.

Charlotte was about to add that if they got married in Preston, she’d be disappointed not to see the wedding.

But then—

“His Grace will not be marrying Miss Aveline.”

Roarke drew a clear, firm line.

His resolute response caught Charlotte off guard and left her speechless.

He then pulled down his hat to cover his eyes—a clear sign: Don’t ask anymore.