There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 87

As instructed the day before, the forest path had been cleared well enough to walk without difficulty. The small clearing along the trail, lightly blanketed in snow, looked less like the aftermath of a blizzard and more like a painting of a beautiful snowfall.

Vivianne, unable to bear the weight of the snowball that had grown past her knees, finally collapsed on the spot. Gasping for breath, she looked at Charlotte, only to see her expertly rolling a snowball far larger than the one she had made.

“… I thought I was making the body,” Vivianne murmured weakly in disbelief.

Charlotte burst into laughter.

“Really? I saw you making the head so big that I thought I needed to make the body bigger to match.”

A small miscommunication had nearly resulted in two snowman bodies, but the solution was simple: the smaller body could become the head.

Charlotte stopped rolling the snow and sat beside Vivianne. Then she reached her hand out toward the softly falling snowflakes. A large snowflake landed on Charlotte’s black leather glove.

“Look at this. Isn’t the snowflake pretty?”

She held out the still‑intact snowflake to Vivianne, whose eyes—gray like today’s sky—sparkled brightly.

“It’s so beautiful; I wish it wouldn’t melt,” Vivianne said with the loveliest smile in the world. That smile slowly melted the unease in Charlotte’s heart.

A secret that should have stayed buried in the shadows had come out into the open. Learning she was the baron’s illegitimate daughter had shocked Charlotte, but knowing that she was meant to be Edwin’s wife from the beginning had stirred up a desire within her.

Those were the thoughts she’d had while locked in her room over the past few days. If the will truly existed, could she use it as leverage to marry Edwin?

But she didn’t believe that Edwin—who clearly desired Vivianne and had been intimate with her—would obediently marry her just because of the will.

Perhaps his decision to keep her as his ward despite Susanna’s fierce opposition was his one act of loyalty, upholding a single clause in the Baron’s will. If that were the case, Edwin would never marry Charlotte.

Moreover, Edwin had no obligation to follow the Baron’s will. Whatever it contained likely came into effect along with the inheritance. Though he managed Charlotte’s inheritance too, Edwin’s own fortune had already far surpassed what the Baron had left behind.

     Then what must I do to marry the duke?

The deeper her unreachable desire grew, the more Charlotte sank into the mire. It felt as though, if she had just reached out, she could touch the man she loved—yet to others, she probably looked like she was flailing at an illusion.

“Well, now we’ve got a body and a head—shall we stack them?”

Vivianne pushed herself up from the ground, her pale cheeks red from the cold.

She had been born into a noble family, the cherished only daughter who grew up surrounded by love. Vivianne had lived a life Charlotte couldn’t have imagined. Charlotte wondered what sort of compassion Vivianne might have felt upon hearing Susanna’s story.

If Vivianne ever learned that she loved Edwin, would she pity her even more, for living a life so filthy she couldn’t even choose whom to marry?

Vivianne reached out a hand to Charlotte. Charlotte did not doubt that the kindhearted Vivianne would gently stroke the head of the pitiful girl and offer her comfort.

Taking Vivianne’s outstretched hand, Charlotte stood up. Together, they searched for a spot to place their snowman. Then they rolled the giant body together.

By the time they reached the snow‑covered fountain, the two of them were panting from the effort, and the snowman had grown even larger in that short span.

“I actually wanted to build a snowman with you,” Charlotte said.

“Really? Then why didn’t you say so?” Vivianne asked.

“… I don’t know. I thought maybe you wouldn’t like it.”

Standing in front of the snowball they had decided to use for the head, they found it surprisingly easy to roll it onto the body.

“Are there people who don’t like making snowmen?” Vivianne asked, wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

Vivianne sparkled in a strangely dazzling way. In front of her, Charlotte felt infinitely small.

“You’re a noble, Vivianne. Higher‑ranking than the duke, than me, than even the baroness.”

Vivianne, who had been about to bend down to lift the snowman’s head, paused and stood still, deep in thought. Watching her gaze up at the falling snow, Charlotte wondered what Edwin would think if he saw her now. Would he say she was so beautiful and lovely, and kiss those red cheeks?

“I’m just an ordinary citizen of Neway now, just like the duke, like you, like the baroness,” Vivianne said

Charlotte snapped back to reality as Vivianne smiled, crinkling her eyes.

Vivianne, grunting as she tried to lift the heavy snowman’s head, called out for help.

“Help me out, will you?”

Snapping out of it, Charlotte quickly joined her and squatted down. Together, they tried to lift the snowball head—but it was simply too heavy for the two of them. As they struggled to place it on the body, the head rolled backward and fell to the ground, splitting clean in two.

The two women gasped and held a simple funeral for the headless snowman. Exhausted, they promised to try building it again another time.

Vivianne walked over to a table in the snowy clearing, brushed the snow off the chairs, and wiped them clean with a handkerchief. She offered Charlotte a seat first before cleaning her own.

Sitting side by side, they quietly gazed at the breathtaking, seemingly frozen forest scenery.

Charlotte let out a deep sigh, her misty breath dissipating amid the falling snowflakes.

The emotional heat that had tormented her ever since hearing Susanna’s story slowly faded as it met the cold. She hadn’t fully shaken it off, but her heart felt lighter than before.

“Did he say anything when he heard about your engagement?” Vivianne’s voice broke the white silence.

Her words piled up in Charlotte’s heart like falling snow.

Maybe—just maybe—Vivianne, who normally wouldn’t be the type to roll snow across the ground, had done all of this to help untangle her troubled thoughts. Charlotte felt a small spark of gratitude.

“… No. He didn’t say anything.”

“If he gave everything up and asked you to come with him, could you do it?”

“…”

“Could you turn your back on the Duke, who’s like family to you?”

Vivianne’s innocent question made Charlotte laugh. Vivianne, not understanding the reason for her laughter, tilted her head in confusion.

“Is it as simple as choosing between family and love? If I could choose… then I’d pick love. I’d give up family for it.”

To begin with, Charlotte had only faint memories of what it meant to have a family. Edwin, whom she had believed to be family, had taken her in as his ward merely to avoid marriage. Though he showed her little affection, he fulfilled his duties faithfully. So Charlotte was left with only one option: with no family to give up, all she had left was love.

Yet even that meager love was beyond her grasp. It would only scatter, just like warm breath dissolving into the cold, snowy air of winter, vanishing like a sigh.

“… Really? I’m not so sure,” Vivianne said. “I don’t know if I could give up family for love.”

Charlotte’s gaze drifted to Vivianne, who had her head down.

“When I think of my parents, I don’t think I could ever choose love. If someone made me choose between the one I loved and my parents, I’d choose my parents without hesitation. Maybe it’s just because I’ve never really been in love?”

Vivianne smiled shyly, the corners of her lips lifting, but her eyes were heavy with uncertainty. The relief Charlotte had felt while sweating over the snowman began to churn again.

Charlotte wanted to escape before her endless greed consumed her entirely, just as Vivianne’s efforts had once offered her an escape. She wanted to believe things could be okay again.

Suddenly rising to her feet, Charlotte forced a smile.

“Sitting still like this, I’m starting to get cold again. Should we walk a bit? Just to where the path’s been cleared.”

“Alright. I was starting to feel a little chilly, too,” Vivianne replied.

The two walked slowly past the clearing and up the cleared slope. As they passed, small winter birds—no bigger than fists—flitted from branch to branch, shaking snow loose as they went.

Vivianne would always choose her parents over someone she cared about. She didn’t really know what love was yet. So what had Charlotte seen between them? If it wasn’t love, then what was it—what should she call what happened between a man and a woman?

Fragments of thought swirled chaotically through her mind, scraping at her heart like rough bubbles—expanding, untamed, and unclean.

“What? They’ve blocked this path,” Vivianne said.

Without realizing it, they had reached a narrow part of the trail. Until autumn, this path had always been open, but now a wooden fence had been erected.

For some reason, one section of the fence on the slope side was hanging loosely.

“Why is this fence so flimsy?” Vivianne grabbed the fence and gave it a shake.

Creak, creak. Poorly nailed, it seemed ready to splinter under the slightest pressure.

“Charlotte, maybe we should go back—”

“Then… Vivianne…”

Far off, snow fell in a flurry from a dry branch.

“Are you saying… that you don’t love the duke?”

It was an impulsive question, but even if it hadn’t been, it was something Charlotte could no longer keep inside.

Vivianne’s eyes filled with confusion. Her delayed reply stretched the silence between them.

Charlotte’s questioning gaze intensified, but she had no intention of withdrawing her question.

“What do you mean… that I don’t love the Duke?”

In the end, Vivianne had to confront the question.

“Why are you denying it?”

Had Edwin been fooled? Had he given everything to this woman, blinded by her beauty, only to believe that her lips spoke of love?

“You and the Duke are in a relationship.”

“… If this is about what happened in Farrington, then you’re mistaken. There was so much going on back then…”

“I saw you in the library,” Charlotte cut in.

Vivianne’s clumsy excuse trailed off.

“I saw the two of you kissing.”

No matter what Charlotte tried, Edwin remained beyond her reach. Becoming his wife seemed possible only if she were granted a new life.

So why… why was the man she had longed for so desperately so easily within someone else’s grasp?

The man she had struggled to win over had given his heart away—entirely, and in such a short time—to someone who now claimed it wasn’t even love.

Charlotte had wanted that love so deeply. She had desired it fiercely—and still couldn’t have it.

“So you’re saying it wasn’t love?”

Vivianne didn’t say a word. As if her lips were frozen, she only trembled faintly, her eyes clouded like storm clouds.

“Are you absolutely certain it’s not love?”

“… Charlotte.”

When Vivianne stepped toward her, Charlotte took a step back.

“Answer me. Don’t you love the Duke? You slept with him, kissed him because… You loved him so deeply—are you saying none of that was real?”

Charlotte’s voice grew increasingly agitated with emotion. Her eyes were red. She was overwhelmed with defeat.

“The Duke and I… it was… well, you see…”

Vivianne looked flustered, unable to give a clear answer. The man Charlotte loved had been deceived by Vivianne’s honeyed words—had given his heart away completely. It was betrayal, plain and simple.

Vivianne had used her greatest weapon—her beauty—to manipulate the man who was practically her family, the man Charlotte loved most.

“Charlotte, it’s just…”

Vivianne, flustered, stepped toward her again, nearly in a panic.

“Don’t come any closer!” Charlotte yelled.

As Vivianne got too close, Charlotte shoved her hard. Vivianne lost her balance. She grabbed the slope’s flimsy fence, but the precarious structure crumbled along with the ground beneath it the moment she touched it.

It happened in an instant.

Charlotte screamed and stumbled back in horror. When she couldn’t see Vivianne where she should have been, her face turned pale.

“Charlotte!”

Vivianne’s voice came from much closer than expected—not from below, but nearby. Charlotte crawled across the ground to the edge of the broken slope. When she looked down, she saw Vivianne hanging onto the remnants of the broken fence, barely holding on.

“Cha—Charlotte…”

Charlotte knew that face. It mirrored the look she’d seen on her own mother’s face moments before she died.

      Vivianne might really die.

Just then, Vivianne stretched out her one free hand. On the edge of life and death, she desperately reached out to Charlotte for help.

And in that moment, Charlotte saw Edwin’s face instead: his unwavering gaze fixed on Vivianne, his hands gently cradling her flawless cheeks, his lips claiming Vivianne’s lips.

After all those tangled memories, Charlotte’s shaking lips stopped. Her expression grew cold and calm.

Charlotte looked down at the terrified Vivianne, and then, silently, moved away from the edge and stood up.

Without a word, she walked down the snowy path.

Her awareness slowly faded. It felt like Vivianne’s screams clung to the hem of her skirt, like a ghost trailing behind her.

But Charlotte didn’t stop walking.

In fact, her steps only quickened, as if fleeing the sound of those pleas for life.

      What on earth am I doing?

With that question, tears fell down her cheeks.

In the sudden, awful quiet, Vivianne’s screams still echoed—until they were abruptly cut off by a heavy and eerily final thud, chillingly reminiscent of the snowman’s shattered head hitting the ground.