Chapter 67. Difference in View
Present, The Viscountess’s Bedroom, Lord’s Castle
The silver moonlight peeked into the quiet bedroom as the lace curtains fluttered softly against the window.
The bedroom door clicked open, and Miller walked in quietly, gently carrying an asleep Francesca in his arms. He carefully placed her down onto the soft mattress, tucking her in and covering her warmly with the blankets.
“Hmm~” she grumbled faintly in her sleep, turning slightly onto her left side.
“Remembering and sharing those heavy memories must have taken so much out of you... get a good rest,” Miller whispered softly, caressing her silver hair before placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
He stood up, looking down at her peaceful face one last time as endless thoughts raced through his mind, before quietly stepping out of the room and heading toward his study.
He still had to prepare a rock-solid legal case to defend Jeckson Libert for tomorrow's Council meeting, even with Ivan’s tempting offer hanging in the air at the back of his mind.
Gasp!
Francesca suddenly bolted awake, gasping for air, her skin drenched in a cold sweat. Sitting upright in the dark room, she took several slow, measured breaths to calm her wildly beating heart, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Why does my perfect recall memory keep forcing me to rewatch Miller’s severed head...?” she muttered softly to herself, her voice shaking. “I wish I could erase that horrific nightmare forever...”
Looking around the quiet room, she realized she was back in their bed. She reached out to pat the sheets beside her, but Miller wasn't there.
“Ah... that’s right. He said during dinner that he would be up late,” she whispered to herself, remembering his words. “He must still be in his study trying to prepare a case for Lord Jeckson.”
Flutter... Flutter...
The curtains rustled softly in the night breeze as Francesca sat in silence, staring blankly out the window toward the moonlit sky. Her mind whirled with overwhelming conflict.
I could easily protect our territory and save Jeckson if I simply surrender the Azure Tear to Ivan... but I truly cannot afford to gamble with my precious second chance at life... without the Tear, if something goes wrong, everything is over...
Reaching for her wooden cane resting against the nightstand, she carefully balanced her weight and stood up.
“I didn’t get the chance to talk to him properly earlier... but we desperately need to discuss our next moves together before the deadline Ivan set for tomorrow evening.”
Tak... Tak...
With the steady, rhythmic thumps of her cane echoing down the dimly lit hallway, Francesca left the bedroom and made her way toward Miller's study to figure out their strategy.
Study, Lord’s Castle
The study door creaked open slightly, and Miller looked up from the mountain of legal documents spread across his desk. Francesca stood in the doorway, her cane held steady in one hand, her long silver hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She looked remarkably delicate in the dim lamplight, smaller than usual, somehow.
“Francesca?” Miller set down his pen, concern lacing his tone. “You should be resting.”
She stepped inside, softly clicking the door shut behind her. “I woke up and couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about Ivan’s ultimatum.”
Miller leaned back in his chair, tiredly rubbing his eyes with two fingers. “About the necklace... right?”
She walked toward him slowly, the rhythmic tap of her cane measuring each heavy step. “At dinner... remember you said you would sacrifice anything to protect those who depend on you? That it was your sacred duty as a lord?”
Miller's gaze sharpened. He instantly knew where this conversation was heading. “Yes,” he said carefully. “I meant every word of it.”
Francesca stopped in front of his wooden desk, her free hand resting on the back of an empty chair. “The Azure Tear. In exchange for dropping the charges against Jeckson and halting the trade embargo policy...”
“What do you think I should decide?” She finished.
He hesitated before answering. That single, agonizing second of hesitation told her everything she needed to know.
“You want me to give it to him,” she said flatly.
“I want you to at least consider it,” he said, standing up and stepping around the desk to face her directly. “Jeckson's life is hanging in the balance, Francesca. If Lord Ivan escalates this case to the Capital and the Imperial Investigators, Jeckson will be executed. There is no other outcome. The framed evidence is stacked heavily against him, and we currently have nothing to prove Ivan set him up.”
“So I should just hand over my late mother's last gift to me?!” Her voice began to rise, her knuckles turning white around her cane. “I... I am simply not willing to do it! It is far too precious to me!”
I am terrified to tell you the real reason... her mind screamed in agony. I just cannot bring myself to tell you that in my past life, you were executed, and your head was cut off because of me...!
“Francesca... this cannot just be about how you personally feel,” Miller pleaded gently, reaching out to hold her cold hands in his own. “I understand your sentiment. I know how deeply valuable it is to your heart... but surrendering it can save a loyal subject’s life, safeguard our entire territory, and protect our people.”
Looking into her eyes, he added softly, “Wouldn't it be wrong of us, in our position of authority, to hold onto a single personal item out of individual emotion when so many lives are at stake?”
Personal emotion...?
Francesca’s golden eyes shot a dangerous, icy glare at him. “What do you mean 'just personal emotion'?! Are you calling me selfish now, too?! ”
Miller paused, his jaw tightening. He hesitated for a few agonizing seconds, his grip on her hand tightening slightly as he muttered in a low, somber voice, “In your position as the Viscountess... prioritizing your own personal feelings over the lives of our people is, in a sense... selfish.”
“Ha!”
Francesca violently snatched her hand out of his grip, leaning heavily on her cane for balance.
“As if a man who openly declares he would foolishly march off to death and leave his own wife behind just to protect the people… simply because he bears the title of Lord, is any better?!” she sneered, her voice trembling with anger.
“Sacrificing yourself to protect those who believe in you? That is nothing but a fluffy, naive fantasy, Miller! They will completely forget your noble deeds the moment they grow comfortable again in a few years!”
She scoffed bitterly, prompting Miller’s own voice to rise in rare, heated frustration. “Yeah?! Then what about the Viscountess who coldly discards her own people's suffering over a sentimental trinket?!”
“Are the people depending on you nothing more than a means to an end for you then?!” Miller argued, his chest heaving as the tension reached its boiling point. “You love them when it is convenient and beneficial for you, and discard them the moment real trouble strikes?!”
Gazing at her in deep disappointment, Miller finished coldly, “Maybe Lord Ivan was actually onto something... perhaps you really are selfish and don't care about the people who struggle and suffer for you.”