Chapter 4-4
“Oh my goodness….”
The next day, Jane rose from bed and sat there blankly, savoring the afterglow.
‘What on earth happened?’
It was impossible to believe. She—she had kissed Ruelne? The boy she sponsored, the one she exchanged letters with?
But Ruelne was no longer a boy. He had become, unmistakably, a grown man. Even so, Jane found herself torn between conscience, pride—and pleasure.
What made it worse was that she couldn’t tell anyone.
She wasn’t oblivious. She knew that while people teased her about Ruelne, they didn’t necessarily view him kindly. So with no one to confide in, her thoughts—and the lingering warmth—stretched into the afternoon.
“…Director? Are you all right? Are you feeling unwell?”
In the end, even her secretary, Bianca, asked.
“Come to think of it, you came home very late last night, didn’t you? Oh my—don’t tell me you finally… had a passionate evening?”
“Isn’t that rather an indecent question for a secretary to ask?”
“Then I’ll ask as a friend.”
That’s right. Jane spent the night with Ruelne.
Of course… nothing happened of the sort Bianca had been expecting. They had been far too busy kissing.
“…I would like to see you again, Jena.”
Just before they parted, Ruelne had said it with undisguised regret in his eyes. Jane hadn’t been able to answer.
“That’s great! Then you should take this chance to go out more! Want me to look into a few events for you?”
“No, that’s fine… More importantly—ah.”
Jane’s eyes widened when she spotted the letter on her desk.
“A letter came?”
“Yes, my goodness. What were you thinking about that you didn’t see it? It arrived this morning—I placed it on your desk.”
“I see. All right. Could you step out for a moment?”
Bianca set down the documents and left. Jane hurriedly tore open the envelope.
Dear Jane,
And to my patron, who has made me feel somewhat forlorn today……
I have received the news of your engagement, delivered by letter.
I wish I could offer you my congratulations,
but I must apologize that such words do not rise from my heart.
……It seems I arrogantly believed that, before making such a momentous decision,
you might at least have discussed it with me.
I do not oppose your engagement.
Who am I to dare object?
I trust you have made the right choice.
You always have.
I have always hoped that the fact you sponsor me—that my very existence—
would never, even for a single moment, become a hindrance to you.
That is why I was always careful when writing my letters.
So that I would not mistake your kindness for something more.
But now,
I find myself wondering what would have happened had I been rude just once.
If I had at least tried to be stubborn,
if I had said more forcefully that I wished to see you—
might I have seen you before you became engaged?
I came of age long ago,
so I suppose I can no longer meet a patron who has taken a fiancée.
Just as you once looked toward my radiant future,
I hope that the person you have chosen
is someone who will share a happy life with you.
I am sorry that I cannot offer congratulations,
an unworthy beneficiary to the end.
Until the day I can sincerely congratulate you,
I will stop writing.
With what may be my last affection,
Ruelne Scharnhost.
When she finished reading, Jane shot to her feet.
“……”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. His bewilderment seeped from every line. Her engagement had already fallen through—yet she hadn’t been able to tell him.
And now this was to be his last letter.
Her lips trembled.
“Last…?”
There was the condition—until the day I can sincerely congratulate you—but to Jane, it felt like an eternal severance.
“…My patron has taken a fiancée.”
Ruelne’s low voice resurfaced in her memory.
“So I became curious as well. What exactly is love? And if one were to become engaged, to marry—what would that feel like?”
“Yes. I always heed the words of my precious patron.”
He had spoken so earnestly, never knowing that the woman before him was the very patron who had supported him for so long.
And then—
“The first event I attended after making that decision was this sponsorship gathering. That’s where I met you, Miss Jena.”
“The moment I saw you, I felt drawn in. I had never experienced anything like it before.”
He had told her it felt like fate.
But now a different thought crept in.
‘What if Ruelne’s feelings changed today? And… what if he said the same things to someone else?’
“No…!”
The word tore from her before she knew it.
Jane yanked open the locked drawer. Inside, the letters she had exchanged with Ruelne lay neatly stacked. She rifled through them, pulling out what she needed.
Then she called Bianca back in.
“…Director?”
Bianca stared at her superior—who, in the span of moments, looked utterly disheveled.
“I’m going out from now on.”
“Pardon? W-Where? Are you traveling abroad?”
“Events. Banquets. Sponsorship gatherings.”
“Oh—yes. …Yes?!”
“I said I’m going.”
Bianca blinked. In the decade she had served her—no, in all the years Jane had been director—she had never once seen her voluntarily attend public events. At most, she would go if Camilla or Max pleaded, or she would accompany Glen in disguise, pretending to be his secretary.
But a banquet…!
“And Bianca, there’s something I need you to look into. You can ask Glen for help.”
Bianca swallowed.
Her director’s eyes were frighteningly serious.
‘Did she come across some venture she absolutely has to secure?’
But the moment she heard the request, her expression shifted.
“…The schedule of the young duke Scharnhost?”
After that, Jane attended various banquets and sponsorship gatherings under an assumed identity. And every time, she encountered Ruelne.
Most were places he had mentioned in his letters as ones he might attend; the rest were information Bianca and Glen had uncovered.
“I’m glad to see you again.”
When they first met again, Ruelne smiled like a blooming flower. Relief washed over Jane—yet her heart churned. Was it right to keep seeking him out like this? She had sponsored him in hopes that he would live a happy future. And yet, now that it felt as though he might drift from her forever, she had broken her own principles to chase after him.
Fortunately, Ruelne welcomed her warmly each time they met again.
But that was all.
…Yes. That was all.
They ran into each other several times. Sometimes they even made plans in advance.
And yet, there were no more kisses like the first.
None.
‘Not that I wanted one… It’s not like I was hoping for it, but still….’
Each time Ruelne sent her off with polite restraint, Jane matched him with the same calm composure. But in one corner of her heart, a fine thread of anxiety slowly coiled tighter.
“Do you see over there? That’s a shop I frequent.”
“That… pub?”
“Yes. I’m rather fond of it.”
She learned more about his tastes—his favorite shops, the little preferences that had never appeared in letters.
And yet, somehow, she felt she understood him less.
‘Camilla said men usually want to take things further after a kiss.’
Jane fell into troubled thought. Had he found her lacking as a woman? Come to think of it, Ruelne had never asked her age, nor her family. He hadn’t even seemed concerned that she never told him where she lived.
For the first time, her age weighed on her. It had never once bothered her before. She even pinched her own cheek. Fortunately—or unfortunately—the face people always complained made her look too young now seemed almost helpful.
Still, she couldn’t shake the unease.
Then she heard a rumor.
“…Have you heard? Young Duke Scharnhost is getting married.”
“What? Truly?”
“That’s what I heard. Supposedly right after graduation…”
It was news of Ruelne’s marriage.
At first, she dismissed it as absurd.
Not an engagement—marriage? If it were true, there was no way he wouldn’t have told her.
But as the whispers spread, her certainty wavered. Hadn’t he written that he would resume writing only when he could sincerely congratulate her on her engagement?
Of course, Jane had meant to reply. To tell him her engagement had fallen through.
But after reading about severing contact, fear had crept in. What if he thought she was toying with him? She, who had never been timid in any matter, found herself completely at a loss.
Trapped between advance and retreat, she focused on meeting him as ‘Jena.’
And then, not long after, she heard the marriage rumor again.
‘Right. They haven’t even named the bride yet. It could be false.’
Instead of agonizing alone, she decided to ask him directly. It was frightening—embarrassing—but she gathered her courage.
“Marriage? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
Her relief was fleeting.
“Ah, well, there has been talk of an engagement. But it wasn’t something I pursued—rather, a relative who appeared out of nowhere…”
Jane flinched. Ruelne seemed to sense something off and stopped, looking at her.
But she had already stepped back.
“…Miss Jena?”
“Ah, Scharnhost—no, Sir Ruelne.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. An engagement. And it sounded as though discussions had been underway for some time—yet he had never told her?
Only now did she understand the shock he must have felt. The distance between them felt suddenly vast. Strange. She had met him in person. Even kissed him.
As Ruelne took a step toward her, Jane retreated further.
“I—I have something urgent today, so I should go. I’m terribly sorry… The picnic—another time. Yes, next time.”
“…When is ‘next time’? How about next week?”
His eyes darkened, something layered in his voice—but Jane didn’t notice. Her heart throbbed unpleasantly.
“No! Next week as well—I think I’ll have plans.”
What am I doing? This is humiliating. What was I so certain of?
Among nobles, it wasn’t uncommon to keep a lover separate from a fiancée or betrothed. They were people who neatly divided partners for inheritance and heirs from those for pleasure alone.
She knew that.
And yet the shock swallowed her whole.
She had no right to feel betrayed by Ruelne—yet she did.
Because of her sponsorship, Ruelne was reclaiming his rightful place. She knew that. He stood on his own now. He likely had no need for her support anymore.
“I’ll… I’ll contact you. I’m truly sorry!”
She turned to leave, then halted.
For some reason, she felt she had to say this.
“…And Sir Ruelne. There’s something I need to tell you. No—something I failed to say.”
“…What is it?”
His voice had sunk low, but she had no space left in her mind to register it.
“In truth, I’m seven years older than you. Surprised?”
Silence.
She kept her head bowed. She had never had her hands tremble like this, not even when making bold investments. She was afraid to see his expression.
“It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to continue meeting, would it? The age difference—it bothers me.”
A lie. If Ruelne didn’t mind, she would have happily forgotten it herself.
“And… I lied. I actually sponsor another student as well.”
She bit her lip.
Now, at last, she understood. Why Ruelne had occupied her thoughts endlessly. Why she couldn’t forget his face. Why she reread his letters over and over.
She knew what it stemmed from.
And she knew it was wrong.
She had known—and pretended not to.
Even the guilt she had felt while kissing him, she had deliberately ignored.
‘I’m the one at fault.’
She remembered clearly. Ruelne had said he despised impure sponsorships. He had rejected all offers and lived with pride. She had been the one to sponsor him out of genuine goodwill. She had been the one to persuade him again and again to trust her.
And in the end, she was the one who harbored impure feelings—betraying his expectations and his affection.
So—
“And I’ve developed improper feelings toward that student. So I think it would be difficult for me to continue seeing you.”
She turned away.
“Miss Jena.”
His voice was cold. She wanted to look back.
But she didn’t.
Because she feared she would run back to him and beg him to keep seeing her.
And that—she must not do.