SFYF 06

Chapter 6

“Yes, Mrs. Clozier.”

The steward’s assistant, nodding vigorously, pointed toward the two-story red-brick house before them. It was a cozy-looking home, its entire wall covered in ivy.

“I heard from Mr. Bolin, the head steward, that you were looking for a boarding house. There’s likely no place in Blauberg more satisfying than this.”

He gave an awkward chuckle and quietly added,

“It’s the boarding house my mother runs.”

“Is that so?”

At Marien’s vague reply, he spluttered excitedly.

“It’s the house where my parents and we three brothers once lived together. Father passed away, and all three of us brothers married and moved out. Now Mother lives there alone. Feeling lonely, she started taking in boarders a few years ago. The rent is cheap, the food is delicious, and it was very popular.”

Having said that much, the steward’s assistant glanced cautiously at Marien and lowered his voice slightly.

“These days, though, newer and more stylish boarding houses have sprung up like mushrooms after rain, stealing away all her guests. Still, though it’s an old house, it won’t be at all unpleasant to stay in. And since my mother also lost her husband early, she’ll understand your feelings better than anyone else.”

Marien, seated in the carriage, looked up at the red-brick house. Though uneasy about the Marquis Schneider’s apparent influence, she felt it wasn’t a bad choice.

Meanwhile, the sun had fully set, and a blue twilight draped the earth like a blanket. At this hour, searching for another boarding house would be far more exhausting and difficult.

This time, she would accept the Marquis’s kindness.

“Alright.”

Marien finally rose from her seat. She slowly stepped toward the ivy-covered red-brick house.

Her eyes sparkled with a clear, bright light, like Venus revealing itself early in the evening sky.

A bluish dawn filtered through the window. The previously dark living room was now touched by the blue of early morning, and the outlines of objects began to appear faintly.

Martin watched Christoph, seated in the center of the living room, with a troubled expression. Last night, he had stayed awake the entire night in the living room—because his wife, Marien, had not returned.

Before midnight, Christoph had been far more composed than he was now. He had assumed Marien would soon come back, tail between her legs, and certainly wouldn’t stay out overnight.

He believed her act of throwing down divorce papers and storming out was merely a temporary outburst or rebellion born of hurt feelings. He never doubted she would resolve the matter herself before it escalated.

Of course, he seemed quite angry with Marien. But if she apologized, he appeared willing to let it go—at least once.

He even seemed ready to comfort her. Though the incident report he’d reviewed showed no irregularities, he had prepared to look into it again if she wished.

Yet none of that came to pass. The front door remained silently shut as the darkened sky slowly took on a blue hue.

It was highly unusual for Christoph to spend an entire night in the living room. After all, his routine since returning to the mansion had always been to lock himself in his study and work.

Christoph intensely disliked anyone disrupting his daily routine—not even Marien was an exception.

Thus, seeing him still in his clothes, sitting motionless in the living room, struck Martin as an utterly unfamiliar sight.

Dong. Dong. Dong.

Only after the grandfather clock struck midnight did Christoph let out a cold laugh. His eyes turned icy.

Martin instinctively took a deep breath, feeling as if his breath had been snatched away.

—Marien, what do you think you’re doing, making me angry like this?

Christoph silently vented his fury, glaring into empty space with eyes sharpened to a pale blue edge. Martin had never seen him this furious.

He was the very embodiment of cool rationality, always in complete control of his emotions, no matter how provoked.

But now, Christoph seemed consumed by a deep, black anger. Finally, he gripped the armrest of his chair—so tightly that the bones on his knuckles stood out stark white. It almost sounded as if the wood itself groaned under the strain.

“Martin.”

Christoph called his name in a low, hoarse voice, struggling to suppress his rising fury.

Martin stepped forward and replied, “Yes, sir.” His voice came out higher-pitched than usual, tense with anxiety.

“Prepare the carriage. I must go to the Clozier residence immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Martin hurried out of the living room to summon Günter. Recalling Christoph’s razor-sharp demeanor—like a freshly honed blade—he let out a sigh heavy with conflicted feelings.

He hoped Marien was indeed at her parents’ home, the Cloziers, so Christoph’s anger might subside. Yet, thinking of the trouble Madam Schneider would surely face, he also wished Marien weren’t there at all.

Gazing out at the brightening window, Martin sighed again—perhaps for the umpteenth time that night. Closing his eyes tightly, he prayed to God for the first time in a very long while.

May God’s grace be with Madam Schneider.

Morning at the Clozier household was quieter than usual. Though everyone rose at the same time, ate breakfast, tended to the horses, and prepared for work, an inexplicable stillness hung over the house.

The Cloziers still hadn’t recovered from Veronica’s death. The absence of their beloved second daughter had left them with profound grief, and they avoided speaking her name altogether, careful not to reopen each other’s wounds.

“What time will you be back today?”

At Ena’s dry question, Fabian, bringing a boiled egg to his mouth, answered, “Same as usual.”

Though this was their daily exchange, neither looked the other in the eye today.

Fabian Clozier, a low-ranking civil servant at City Hall, was no nobleman of great standing, but he was a diligent and sincere man. His wife, Ena Clozier, was gentle and thrifty.

Once at the peak of happiness when their eldest daughter married Christoph Schneider, they now found themselves plunged into the depths of sorrow by their second daughter’s death.

Like plants deprived of sunlight, they were slowly withering. They shared meals and conversation, yet everything felt hollow and tasteless.

Just then, the faint sound of a car reached their ears. Ena was the first to notice. She glanced out the window and then cast a questioning look at Fabian.

“Who could that be so early in the morning, Fabian? Are we expecting anyone?”

“I don’t know.”

Only then did Fabian realize an uninvited guest had arrived. He rose from his seat and headed straight for the front door. Ena followed cautiously behind him.

The moment Fabian opened the door—

“!”

He involuntarily flinched, startled by the dark figure standing before him.

After a brief, wary stare, Fabian belatedly recognized the intruder as his son-in-law, Christoph.

He hadn’t recognized him at first glance because Christoph’s demeanor was somehow different—uncharacteristically disheveled. The ever-impeccable Christoph now appeared slightly unkempt.

His business suit bore several creases, his ascot tie hung loosely, and dark shadows ringed his eyes—as if he’d stayed awake all night.

Yet his black eyes gleamed with an unnerving, icy sharpness—sharp enough to cut a finger.

“What’s the matter, Christoph?”

Fabian looked at him with concern. Behind him, Ena’s face went pale as she asked in alarm, “Has something happened to our Marien?”

At those words, Fabian’s expression also turned grave. Having already lost their second daughter tragically, they couldn’t bear to lose their first.

Just as Fabian stepped forward urgently, Christoph spoke. From between his teeth escaped a chilling voice Martin had never heard before.

“Where is she?”

“……”

Fabian couldn’t utter a word. He didn’t understand what Christoph was asking—or rather, Christoph’s icy gaze and tone instinctively froze him in place.

“Is she here?”

“……”

Again, Fabian remained silent. His fingers twitched. He stared wide-eyed at the man before him, as if trying to confirm whether this was truly Christoph.

Despite the difference in their social standing, Christoph had never treated him disrespectfully. He had always shown the utmost courtesy, and Fabian had been grateful for it.

But the man standing before him now was not the Christoph he knew.

Seeming to expect no answer from Fabian, Christoph pushed past him and strode into the house—an uncharacteristically rude act for the etiquette-conscious Christoph.

Without waiting for the master’s permission, he marched boldly through the house, surveying the living room like a general seizing enemy territory, then headed straight for the bedrooms.

Bang.

He flung open a door—it was Fabian and Ena’s bedroom.

“Good heavens!”

Ena let out a soft, horrified gasp. Yet Christoph, having just invaded the couple’s private space, showed no change in expression.

After checking every room and confirming no one was there, he returned to the living room. Fabian and Ena, finally snapping out of their shock, hurried after him.

“What on earth is going on, Christoph? What is the meaning of this…?”

“Have you received any word from Marien?”

“Marien?”

Fabian tilted his head, bewildered, while Ena, her face anxious, asked again, “Has something happened to Marien?”

Christoph fixed them with a piercing, intense stare—as if determined to detect even the slightest hint of deceit.

He spoke slowly, each word bitten off with icy precision.

“Marien threw down divorce papers and left the house.”

“What?”

“Good heavens!”

Stunned by this thunderbolt, Fabian’s eyes widened, and Ena covered her mouth with both hands. Fabian caught his staggering wife in one arm and turned his gaze to Christoph.

“What nonsense is this? Divorce, out of the blue? Was there some problem between you two that we didn’t know about?”

At that, Christoph narrowed his eyes. They didn’t seem to be lying.

Frowning deeply, he stared into space and murmured quietly, as if to himself,

“I’d like to know that myself—what exactly this so-called ‘problem’ is.”

Indeed, that was true. Christoph himself most wanted to understand why Marien had suddenly thrown down divorce papers.

Slowly lowering his gaze, he fixed Fabian with his pitch-black eyes. Regaining some composure, Christoph spoke in a polite tone.

“I apologize for my rudeness. If Marien contacts you, please let me know immediately.”

“I understand.”

Fabian nodded gravely, his face ashen from the morning’s shock.

When Marien had first brought Christoph home as the man she intended to marry, Ena had opposed the match, fearing the imbalance between them would cause Marien hardship. She had genuinely worried Marien would suffer.

But Fabian had thought she didn’t understand. After news spread that Christoph would become his son-in-law, his colleagues’ attitudes toward him changed.

So how much more would Marien’s life transform as Madam Schneider? Fabian had never doubted she would be happy.

But what had happened between them? Had Marien not been happy after all? Should he, like Ena, have opposed their marriage?

Fabian’s heart sank deeper. It felt as if all this were his fault—as if he’d pushed his only remaining daughter into a pit of unhappiness.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

“Be careful on your way. Don’t go too far.”

Just as Christoph turned to leave, leaving the two behind—

“Marien won’t contact us.”