Chapter 19

Kahn’s wedding was held in a small chapel. Though the ceremony was simple, it was filled with festive joy. In the countryside, commoners had few entertainment options, with farm work occupying most of their time. A wedding was a rare grand celebration, especially with the baron in attendance.

People organized various games to liven up the festivities—wheelbarrow races, blind man’s bluff, and more took turns. These activities were usually led by young men, with occasional participation from the girls. Today’s main event was “three people, two horses,” where two young men acted as horses, carrying a girl on their backs. The girls pushed and shoved each other, and the last one remaining on the “horses” was the winner.

As the best man, I naturally couldn’t miss this excitement. My partner and I rushed into the crowd of girls and snatched away the prettiest one, immediately drawing gasps of surprise. In the ensuing melee, our girl got beaten until her nose bled, while we two “horses” gloriously collapsed on the ground.

It had been ages since I last participated in such joyous activities, as if I’d forgotten all past troubles and hatred, wishing only to immerse myself forever in this fleeting happiness. As the event neared its end, the girl beside me lightly kissed my cheek and joked that Kahn really shouldn’t have made me his best man—with me around, no one would notice the groom.

Perhaps it was the cheerful mood, but I spun the girl around by her waist and kissed her back, causing her cheeks to immediately flush red. Then, we heartily enjoyed the abundant food and beer, reveling in this festive moment.

I overheard Kahn’s father talking with a neighbor about Austin. “The baron has been exceedingly generous, helping us greatly with my son’s wedding,” he said gratefully.

“More than generous—we ought to thank God for letting us farm on the baron’s land. Last year when my cow died, if not for the baron waiving our spring plowing, the taxes alone would have ruined us,” the neighbor agreed wholeheartedly.

Only then did I realize the baron wasn’t present at the wedding—his status might not suit such an occasion. Without hesitation, I bid Kahn farewell, preparing to hurry back to the castle. Today was Kahn’s wedding, yet as the baron’s valet, I’d gotten carried away, nearly forgetting my duties.

By the time I reached the castle, dusk had fallen. I quickly changed clothes and headed for the baron’s study. However, at the study door, I heard the melodious strains of a violin.

The tune was hauntingly tender, like a nightingale singing alone in the silent night, pouring out its sorrow in melancholic tones. I never knew Austin could play the violin—neither in my past life nor this one—and never imagined he could play so movingly.

The corridor gradually darkened, eventually plunging into complete blackness. I didn’t dare interrupt the performance, instead leaning against the hallway wall to listen quietly. Something about the music’s sorrowful melody even brought a pang to my heart.

I stood there listening quietly until, much later, the cold from the wall behind me seeped into my bones. Wiping my tears, I knocked on the study door. “My lord, it’s me,” I said softly, pushing the door open to enter.

The baron was at his desk handling correspondence, the candlelight casting stark loneliness across his pale, stern features.

“The wedding’s over?” the baron asked without looking up.

“Yes, many are dead drunk—their wives could kick them without waking them.”

“Heh.” The baron chuckled softly. “Weddings are always such joyous occasions.”

“Weddings are joyous, but marriage isn’t always,” I said, shaking my head. The baron’s attention shifted from the letters to me. After studying me a moment, he slowly replied, “Marriage may not bring joy, yet everyone yearns for it, no?”

Watching the flickering candlelight, I answered, “People yearn for marriage because they yearn for love. If marriage fails to deliver the expected love, then naturally it brings no joy.”

I thought of my father and mother’s marriage. In their youth, they were the village’s most matched couple—father handsome, mother beautiful. Amid everyone’s blessings, they wed. As a child, I witnessed their love firsthand. Yet hardship eroded that love until father left to seek work, never returning. Mother, left with us siblings, became a drunken harlot.

Lost in these thoughts, my body remained motionless, my eyes fixed on the candlelight until a spark leaped from the wick, startling me back to reality as I realized I had spoken out of turn.

The baron remained silent for a long while before sighing, “Today, I saw you playing with the village girls… I felt envious. Someone like me could never find love as ordinary people do. Even so, I yearn for marriage, even without love, even without joy.”

I looked at the baron in surprise, never expecting he would want to marry. He had never confided such thoughts to me before.

“I hope a loveless marriage could eventually evolve into familial affection, into love. I long for all of this,” he said, and after those words, he spoke not another syllable.

I stared at him blankly, my mind inexplicably drifting back to the melody he had played that night.

In my past life, I fell in love with the noble and beautiful Lauren. Even though my heart was full of affection, I never imagined I could truly marry her, knowing the vast gulf between us. If we had married out of love, it would only have brought her misfortune. I only wished to stay by her side, silently bearing this love.

Yet, I never expected that the love I thought I had was nothing but a joke, a deception. In the midst of it, I was like a fool.

“For this hopeless love, I betrayed Austin, who trusted me, and even directly caused his death. Only today, through that mournful violin melody, did I catch a glimpse of the baron’s heart.”

The baron once said he wanted to marry, but I knew what he truly longed for was not the ancient institution of marriage. As conveyed by the melody he played tonight, he yearned for love—the kind every ordinary person desires. Yet, love is so rare, something even ordinary people may not easily attain.

Love is the easiest yet hardest thing to obtain in this world. We can give everything for love, or destroy ourselves for its absence. In my past life, the baron treated me so well, perhaps not because he truly loved me, but because he yearned for love. And I—I not only hurt someone who loved me but also someone who longed for love.

The night felt exceptionally long. The distant sky brought water devoid of warmth, and by midnight, a fierce downpour battered the earth, leaving me sleepless. Standing by the window, I gazed at the balcony of the baron’s second-floor bedroom. Now, he was fast asleep, unaware of my watchful eyes or that a guilt-ridden soul here endured the lashings and condemnations of conscience.

The next day dawned clear and bright. The manor’s garden, washed by the sudden storm the night before, gleamed lush and beautiful, though nearly every path was muddy and treacherous. On such a day, no visitors should have come, yet a carriage, undeterred by the rough roads, made its way into Miles Manor.

Stepping out of the carriage was a tall, pale woman with gaunt cheeks—the baron’s mother, Lady Lloyd.

Hodgson greeted Lady Lloyd at the door, bowing slightly as he took her hand and led her into the manor.

“Hodgson, where is Austin?” asked Lady Lloyd, her voice low and cold, laced with an unbearable arrogance.

“My esteemed lady, the baron rides every morning,” the steward replied.

“Indeed, not even a day like this would stop him,” Lady Lloyd said, needing no escort as she strode straight to the second-floor parlor. She commanded, “I will stay here for a few days. Have my maids bring my things to the bedroom, and keep clumsy hands away from my belongings.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Hodgson said, straightening only after she had vanished.

Hodgson is the kind of person who is absolutely rigid and meticulous. His hair is perfectly groomed, his gloves spotless, and his tone devoid of any fluctuation, as if he were the perfect butler model straight out of a book—humble, low-key, and serious. His face shows almost no emotion, especially in his attitude toward guests.

However, when dealing with Lady Lloyd, Hodgson seemed to reveal a hint of impatience, clearly indicating that this lady was far from pleasant.

Not long after, the baron returned from his ride. He seemed to have been walking deep in the woods, his black velvet cloak lightly damp with moisture. As I helped him remove the cloak, I softly reported, “My lord, Lady Lloyd has come to visit.”

The baron’s expression did not change in the slightest. He nodded calmly and instructed me, “To the study, I still have some official matters to attend to.”

He didn’t even show the slightest intention of seeing his mother and went straight to the study.

I noticed that the baron and his mother bore a striking resemblance in appearance—both tall and slender, with thick, tea-colored hair and gaunt, pale faces, neither of which could be called beautiful. In terms of personality, they were also somewhat similar, both appearing quite serious and arrogant.

Yet, the differences between them were also evident. The baron thoughtfully instructed me to prepare hot soup for everyone, as the weather was still chilly; meanwhile, Lady Lloyd held her head high, barely glancing at anyone.