There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 91

By dawn, the heavy snow had eased, and by morning it seemed as if the storm had never happened. In the bright winter sunlight, Rottermond gleamed like a diamond, its beauty at its peak once the snowfall stopped.

Susanna could picture how much Vivianne would have loved the view, but she couldn’t enjoy it herself because of the heavy weight on her heart.

It had already been four days since Vivianne’s accident, and yet, Vivianne showed no signs of waking up. Fortunately, she was still alive—something that went against the doctor’s initial concerns. That was the most important thing.

However, while the doctor confirmed that there was no damage to any of Vivianne’s internal organs, he could not explain why she had not regained consciousness. Although she had recovered her body temperature, she had still suffered from a high fever until just yesterday.

Every time news came that Vivianne had had another seizure, Susanna trembled with fear.

Susanna rubbed her throbbing temple. Lately, waking up in the morning has become a burden. Even when greeted with such jewel-like scenery, the dark cloud hanging over her heart refused to lift.

“Any other news about Aveline?” Susanna asked Donnelly, swallowing a bitter sip of coffee.

“No. She still hasn’t regained consciousness.”

“And Edwin? Still hasn’t left that room?”

“… Yes. His Grace spent last night in the young lady’s bedroom as well.”

Susanna withheld her response. Her son, who refused to leave the side of the woman lying half-dead, made her feel as if his earlier threat was now becoming reality.

If Aveline were to die from the accident, it wouldn’t be entirely bad news for Susanna. She felt sorry for Vivianne, but if she had simply disappeared, Edwin might finally have a chance to let go of the past. And since Edwin had once said it wasn’t love, Susanna thought that if he were keeping her near out of hatred, then perhaps death would bring a better resolution.

But—

“If Vivianne dies… I’ll die too.”

Instantly dizzy, Susanna shook her head vigorously and set down her teacup. A chill ran down her spine, her hair standing on end—so much so that even her scalp felt tense.

      No, Vivianne must not die.

“Any word from Windler?”

“No. Nothing.”

Sophie, the maid rescued along with Vivianne, had explained the circumstances of how she had found Vivianne. Although the full details would only be clear once Vivianne woke up, one thing was already confirmed: Charlotte had left the unconscious Vivianne behind and fled the scene. Since then, Charlotte had remained completely silent and was sent to Rickford Prison.

Edwin had no intention of forgiving Charlotte. It was no coincidence that she ended up in Rickford Prison and that Judge Slane had been appointed to the case. With Charlotte refusing to speak, and with a solid witness at hand, there was no chance she could avoid prison.

“Is Baron Zimmerman still sending letters everywhere trying to save Windler?”

“Regrettably… yes, it seems so. But I doubt he’ll be able to find a lawyer. The capital has already received news of Miss Aveline’s accident.”

“These days, everything moves so fast. Ever since the trains started running, news gets there in just a few days. How can anyone live in such a terrifying world?” Susanna grumbled, and Donnelly smiled politely.

“In any case, the Baron’s wasting his efforts. Why bother doing something that won’t change anything?”

Since Edwin had influence over the trial, no one dared to intervene lightly. Besides, this was an accident involving Vivianne, rumored to be Edwin’s lover. Worse still, the culprit was none other than Edwin’s own ward. No lawyer would be brave enough to defend Charlotte, who had betrayed both personal trust and past kindness with a knife to the back.

Susanna clicked her tongue in pity. Charlotte’s punishment had already begun.

────── ✾ ──────

“Oh dear, no, no. I absolutely won’t take this case.”

The lawyer shuddered and stood up, opening his office door. Standing there, he stared fixedly at Gideon, clearly hoping he would hurry up and leave.

“Please, sir. I’m begging you. I’ll pay whatever amount you ask.”

“Try a different office. Not this one.”

“I already did. This is the last one.”

“Then get a public defender.”

“A public defender would be useless in this case. That’s why I’m here.”

“In any case, let’s just leave it at that.”

Under the lawyer’s clear dismissal, Gideon had no choice but to rise from his seat. And just like that, he left what had been his final hope—this law office.

Once again, the tabloids in Farrington had a field day with stories about the Duke of Baytness and Aveline—this time even including his ward, Windler. The coverage was sensational.

The headlines screamed a single, undeniable line: the ward, driven by jealousy toward the Duke’s lover, had pushed her off a cliff, leaving his lover now hovering between life and death. Not a single word of it was false. With this news spreading far and wide, finding a lawyer willing to defend Charlotte had become as difficult as plucking stars from the sky.

The Duke of Baytness demanded a formal annulment of the engagement with Charlotte. He intended to revoke the terms agreed upon along with her dowry, and warned Gideon in earnest: “Don’t stake your life on this marriage.”

But Gideon was firm—he would marry Charlotte no matter what.

The Duke, having no objection, simply tossed the responsibility onto him entirely.

The problem, however, was that Charlotte now faced the very real threat of spending the rest of her life in prison, because the Duke had no intention of changing his mind.

Worse still, the scandal had intensified opposition within Gideon’s own family. But he refused to give up.

Was there truly no way?

For the marriage to happen, Charlotte had to be found not guilty at trial. In fact, Gideon began to wonder if Vivianne waking up might offer a better chance for Charlotte.

He believed Aveline—kind and gentle as she was—would never wish for Charlotte to rot in prison under such a harsh sentence.

So Gideon could only pray, from the bottom of his heart, that Vivianne would wake up safely, and that the Duke of Baytness’s fury might finally begin to subside.

────── ✾ ──────

The bedroom was illuminated only by a lit lamp and the fireplace. All light from the windows had been blocked out to keep the chill from seeping in. After days of burning with fever and suffering seizures, Vivianne’s temperature had finally gone down.

For a while, Edwin found himself missing the icy coldness she had when he first found her.

When her fever was at its worst, he didn’t need a doctor to tell him; he just knew, like a sudden gut feeling, that she was going to die. His instincts had never failed him before. That’s why he believed her death was close, that she would disappear from his side without warning. But at dawn the next day, her temperature returned to normal. The seizures stopped. When Edwin saw that her breathing had become calm and steady again, he realized—perhaps for the first time—that his instincts could be wrong.

In the familiar darkness, Edwin calmly finished his breakfast. He read the newspaper, took care of work, and read a book just like usual. In the afternoon, the doctor visited. He administered medication and checked for any further abnormalities. He said he was still trying various approaches to figure out why Vivianne remained unconscious. If she didn’t wake up by next week, Edwin planned to take her to Farrington. The largest hospital in Neway might have a way to wake her.

After completing his visit, the doctor left. And once again, it was just the two of them.

Edwin sat quietly by her side for a long time, gazing down at Vivianne, who was sleeping peacefully.

There was a time when he’d longed to see her sleeping face—not dozing against a carriage seat, but tucked into a bed, under warm blankets. He’d wondered about her habits right before falling asleep—what rituals she followed, what kind of sleep-talk she murmured, how often she tossed and turned, what sounds could wake her, and which mornings made her feel the most tired.

Yes. Those were the things he had been curious about. Not this—her lying there with her eyes closed, as if she would never wake again.

With her color returning, she looked as though she could open her eyes at any moment. Edwin imagined—could almost see—Vivianne blinking her heavy lids and asking what had happened, her face confused. And when she came to her senses, she’d probably scold him fiercely, like a wild little cub, asking why he was watching her sleep again.

But her anger never lasted long.

The half-realistic daydream faded after the short winter sun had completely set.

Edwin ate dinner in Vivianne’s bedroom. After bathing and giving her medicine, he turned off all the lights. Slipping into the bed beside her, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he gently pulled her into his arms.

Her warm body nestled quietly against him, without any resistance. He placed her limp arm around his waist and kissed her forehead.

“Let’s go to Preston in the spring,” he whispered softly into her ear, recalling the moment her eyes had shone brightest among all the memories he held.

“We’ll meet your parents. And we’ll spend the whole day rolling through blooming lavender fields, eating all the things you love.”

He hoped that the joy in his voice would wake her, that she would open her eyes, full of delight.

And just like that…

‘… Really? If we go, can I meet my beloved parents?’

Edwin pictured her looking up at him with tears brimming in her eyes, overwhelmed with emotion.

“So, Vivianne…”

But there was no reply to his call.

Only silence.

“Wake up.”

He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally, the corner of her soft lips.

And again, he imagined:

“Why are you doing this to me? If you keep this up, everyone will call me a shameless woman!”

Then she would glare at him, eyes blazing with anger.

“Wake up now. You’ve slept enough, haven’t you?”

But no matter what he said, Vivianne didn’t respond.

Edwin pressed a long kiss against her dry lips.

Her faint, trembling breath tickled his skin.

He could feel her breath… her heartbeat… her warmth.

He needed to hold onto proof that she was still alive—to imprint them on his very being.

Otherwise…

Edwin, still holding Vivianne in his arms, closed his eyes.

And so, another night quietly passed.