🌹 ━━･❪ Author's Note ❫ ･━━ 🌹

This chapter starts with the continuation of the flashback shown from the previous chapter. So, please don't get confused.

Long chapter ahead. Like literally the longest chapter I've written so far.
Sana ma-enjoy nyo! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

❛ ━━･❪ 🌹 ❫ ･━━ ❜

Chapter 26. The Misunderstanding

As I make my way back to my chamber, an image of his face lingers in my mind, refusing to fade away. Was that truly Count Clorance that I encountered earlier? The way his eyes bore into mine, so intense and different, sends shivers down my spine. It leaves me unsettled, questioning his motives and intentions.

In the novel, the Count never showed a glimmer of interest in Cassia, making these sudden changes all the more bewildering. Could it be that my actions have sparked this unforeseen transformation? Is this the chaotic dance of the butterfly effect, where the flutter of my choices creates ripples of change?

Unable to make sense of it all, I find myself pondering as I walk. Why did he choose an outside venue for our dinner? We have a grand manor with a vast dining area. It's perplexing, to say the least.

Nang makarating ako sa loob ng aking chambers, I was drawn to my study table like a moth to a flame. My hands reach into the drawer, retrieving the mysterious letter I stumbled upon yesterday. Its appearance defies the elegance expected from a noble lady's correspondence. Driven by curiosity, I grasp the small knife lying nearby, carefully breaking the seal of the envelope. As I unfold the letter and read the sender's name, a deep furrow forms on my brow, a mix of confusion and concern.

Reality crashes back with the sound of the door clicking open. I turn to find Mira entering my chamber, disrupting the solitude I had briefly found. Hastily, I return the letter to its hiding place, rising from my chair to greet her.

"Good timing, Mira. Please assist me in preparing for tonight's dinner with my father. He insists on dining out, and I fear the prying eyes of the noble elite we may encounter. Let us ensure I appear presentable, to shield myself from their unwarranted scrutiny," I implore, my voice carrying the weight of my unease and desire for protection.

Mira bows gracefully, her understanding eyes meeting mine. "As you wish, my lady," she replies, her voice a soothing balm, before swiftly departing, likely summoning Rosette and Violet to aid us in our preparations.

Time flowed like a relentless river, and before I could comprehend its passage, it was time to depart. A knock echoed through the chamber door, signaling Philip's arrival. He informed me that he would be escorting me outside where the Count awaited.

I bid farewell to my maids, one by one, their graceful bows a testament to their loyalty.

"Please enjoy your dinner, my lady," Mira uttered, her voice filled with warmth, followed by her respectful bow. Rosette and Violet marveled at my appearance, showering me with compliments. With gratitude, I thanked them both before leaving their presence.

"I see that your maids speak the truth, my lady. You look exquisitely beautiful," Philip's unexpected comment caught me off guard. I chuckled softly, appreciating his words, and expressed my gratitude. His smile in response eased the tension that had settled within me.

As we reached the grand double doors of the manor, they swung open, revealing the Count standing next to the carriage. There was no denying it. The Count was truly as handsome as the rumors had suggested. It was no wonder Cassia possessed such ethereal beauty, undoubtedly inheriting his enchanting features. As his gaze met mine, an uneasiness washed over me, stirring a blend of curiosity and trepidation.

Descending the staircase, I finally reached the bottom, curtsying respectfully before him. "Good evening, Father," I greeted, my voice laced with a touch of formality. "I apologize for keeping you waiting."

He shook his head gently. "No need to worry. I haven't waited long. Now, let us depart," he replied, his tone calm and composed.

Nodding silently, I stepped forward and entered the carriage, oblivious to the fact that he had extended his hand, offering assistance. I sensed a pang of regret as I witnessed his hand retract, a flicker of embarrassment and sadness crossing his features.

Without a word, he followed suit, taking a seat opposite mine within the carriage. As Philip bid us farewell, bowing his head with respect, the carriage began its journey, plunging us into an awkward silence. Neither of us dared to break the ice or initiate a conversation. The truth was, we were strangers, lacking the familiarity needed to find comfort in each other's presence.

As I gaze blankly through the carriage window, a flood of memories from Cassia's past envelops my mind. As a young child, she grew up without knowing the warmth of family or the affection of a father. The Count remained distant, almost as if he had shut her out and abandoned her.

Cassia spent her formative years in the company of nannies, unable to forge a close bond with her brother. The whispers of the manor staff, their disrespectful remarks, would sometimes find their way to her ears. Cassia may have been young, but she wasn't oblivious to her position or the harsh realities that surrounded her. Those words struck her like sharp knives, piercing deep into her being, reinforcing the belief that she had been abandoned, unloved.

In her despair, she would scream, cry, and unleash tantrums, hoping desperately that her father would take notice of her existence. And in a twisted turn of events, her actions did succeed. When news of her violent punishment towards an innocent maid reached his ears, he hastily returned to the main palace manor.

But the fleeting glimmer of hope shattered when she saw the anger etched upon her father's face. She was scolded and punished, sentenced to a two-week period of house arrest, confined to the solitude of her room.

The weight of those memories settles heavily upon me, and a profound sadness washes over my heart. The burdens that the young Cassia had to endure, the depths of her suffering-it is a sorrowful and heart-wrenching tale.

The Count feigned a cough, jolting me back to the present as I turned to face him. "I forgot to mention earlier, but you look stunning tonight, Cassia," he said, his words laced with a mixture of affection and slight embarrassment. Once again, his actions left me puzzled and conflicted.

"Father, if I may speak freely," I began, seeking his permission before continuing.

He nodded, giving me the go-ahead. "Go on," he encouraged.

I wasted no time. There was no use in beating around the bush. I needed answers, and it was time to confront him directly.

"Why are you behaving like this?" I asked, my voice filled with a blend of confusion and inquiry. He seemed taken aback by my words, but I pressed on.

"What is your motive behind these actions that contradict your usual demeanor? I apologize if my words come across as rude, but this has been weighing on my mind ever since your return to the county. You've been acting strangely, deviating from your previous behavior. So, please, enlighten me. Why?"

I paused, gathering my courage to express my deepest concerns. "You usually don't talk to me. You don't even want to see me. It seemed as though you preferred staying at the second residence of the Clorance rather than being at the main manor with me. Was it because you hated me? Did you despise me to the extent that you couldn't even bear to look me in the eye?"

The carriage seemed to shrink in size, the air growing heavy with anticipation. I held my breath, waiting for the Count's response. His face betrayed a mixture of emotions-surprise, contemplation, and perhaps even a hint of regret. But the silence persisted, prolonging the tension between us.

Just as the Count was about to speak, the carriage came to an abrupt halt, jolting us both out of our thoughts. A deep sigh escaped my lips, betraying my frustration with the interruption. The door swung open, revealing one of the Clorance Knights standing outside.

"My lord, we have arrived at our destination," the knight announced, breaking the silence.

Without a word, the Count exited the carriage, and I followed suit, my heart pounding with trepidation. He extended his hand to assist me, a gesture tinged with a mix of politeness and formality. Understanding the significance of the moment, I accepted his offering and took hold of his arm. Together, we made our way towards the entrance of the restaurant where our dinner awaited.

The curious gazes of onlookers seemed to magnify my unease. I couldn't shake the persistent confusion that had plagued me since the Count's return. Each step I took beside him felt heavy with unanswered questions. The whispers and murmurs of the bystanders felt like echoes of my own doubts and uncertainties. Was this dinner merely a facade? A pretense to veil the truth?

I shrugged off the weight of my thoughts, forcing myself to redirect my attention to the restaurant before me.

Le Château de Versailles

Nestled in the heart of the city, this one of a kind restaurant stands as a culinary beacon, a testament to the refined tastes of the nobility. Established by the esteemed Duke of Winchester, it has become a haven for those seeking the epitome of royal gastronomy.

Considering the wealth of the Clorance's, it is not unexpected for us to dine in such a luxurious and fancy restaurant. But just how freaking much was this whole building cost?

As we step through its grand entrance, I could feel how different the air was inside. It's like I was being transported to an era of opulence and splendor.

You could really tell that every detail within the restaurant has been meticulously crafted to evoke the ambiance of the illustrious Palace of Versailles itself. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow upon the polished marble floors, while richly adorned tapestries and intricate paintings adorn the walls, depicting scenes of grandeur and romance. The regal dining hall, with its lofty ceilings and gilded accents, exudes an aura of majesty that envelops all who enter.

A waiter staff graciously guided us to the secluded area that the Count had reserved for our dinner. As we took our seats, I surveyed the surroundings, noting the sparse presence of other diners in this particular section. Perched on the third floor of the building, it became apparent that this was a VIP area, reserved for those seeking exclusivity and privacy.

The thought briefly crossed my mind, but I dismissed it with a nonchalant shrug. The nature of my father's status and the intricate web of connections he possessed often led to such privileged treatment. It was a realm Cassia had grown accustomed to, where the boundaries between social strata were meticulously maintained.

I redirected my attention to the menu, skillfully presented to us by the attentive waiter. The words danced before my eyes, and I found myself appreciating the knowledge I had gained from Mira's teachings. The lessons, it seemed, had not been in vain. In those moments of perusing the menu, my mind conjured images of the bustling capital, its vibrant businesses, and the intricacies of the city's social tapestry.

I could almost hear Mira's voice, recounting the historical significance of renowned establishments, imparting fragments of wisdom about the interplay of power and influence within the city's business elite. These tidbits of information, once seemingly inconsequential, now held newfound relevance in my current surroundings.

If my memory serves me right, the true magic of Le Château de Versailles lies within its culinary mastery. Led by a team of revered chefs, the restaurant offers a symphony of flavors that dance upon the palates of its esteemed guests. Exquisite delicacies, prepared with meticulous attention to detail, are served with flair and finesse. Each dish is a work of art, a harmonious composition of locally sourced ingredients, meticulously paired wines, and innovative culinary techniques.

The menu of this restaurant is a reflection of the Duke of Winchester's discerning taste and dedication to perfection. From delicate foie gras terrines to succulent roasted game, from buttery escargots to decadent crème brûlée, each dish is a celebration of the finest ingredients and culinary craftsmanship.

The restaurant's sommelier meticulously curates an extensive wine list, showcasing rare vintages and hidden gems that harmoniously complement the flavors of each meal. Alas, as a child, I am prohibited from indulging in such exquisite beverages. Sigh, the limitations of youth.

After placing my order, along with the Count's, it didn't take long for the first course to grace our table. A delectable soup, with flavors that were more than satisfactory, enticed our palates. Soon after, the entremets course arrived-the pièce de résistance of the meal. It showcased a succulent roasted meat, accompanied by an array of side dishes and a tantalizing sauce. The flavors danced upon my tongue, leaving me craving more.

Finally, it was time for the grand finale-the dessert course. With anticipation and a satisfied smile, I eagerly welcomed the arrival of my chosen delight: fruit tarts. Each bite revealed a delicate pastry filled with luscious fresh fruits, ranging from succulent strawberries to alluring raspberries or juicy peaches. To further elevate this masterpiece, a sweet glaze adorned the tarts, which was joined by a delightful dollop of whipped cream. In that moment, I truly savored the sweetness of life itself.

[ Additional Info: Nobles of different eras and regions often enjoyed elaborate and extravagant meals consisting of multiple courses. Each course typically consisted of several dishes served in succession, showcasing a variety of flavors, ingredients, and cooking techniques. ]

The restaurant's glowing reputation was clearly well-deserved, as every dish that graced our table was a culinary masterpiece. Despite the exceptional skills of our palace chef, I couldn't help but be captivated by the exquisite flavors and artful presentation of the dishes served here. Each bite was a revelation, a symphony of tastes and textures that delighted my palate.

As I savored the culinary delights, my attention was momentarily drawn away from the delicious morsels before me. Two men, appearing to be of similar age to the Count, approached our table, engaging him in a conversation centered around their business ventures. Intrigued, I leaned in, eager to glean any morsel of information that might offer insight into my father's enigmatic actions.

However, amidst the business talk, my gaze inadvertently wandered and settled upon a figure in the distance. A young man with striking olive green hair, sitting alone at a table, caught my attention. Though I couldn't recall ever meeting someone with such a unique hair color, an inexplicable sense of familiarity washed over me. It was as if a long-forgotten memory, buried deep within the recesses of my mind, had been unexpectedly stirred.

A jolt of self-consciousness coursed through me as I realized he had noticed my prolonged gaze. Panic gripped me, and I quickly averted my eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to my cheeks. Oh no, had I been staring for too long? I chided myself inwardly, mentally urging the earth to swallow me whole in that moment. The sheer awkwardness of the situation left me flustered, desperately wishing to disappear into the shadows.

As my mind raced with confusion and self-reproach, I silently pleaded for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, sparing me from further embarrassment. How could I have let my curiosity get the best of me, only to be caught in this mortifying situation?

Resolving to regain my composure, I redirected my attention back to the conversations unfolding around me, though my thoughts kept drifting back to the mysterious young man with the unforgettable hair. Who was he? And why did his presence evoke such peculiar feelings within me?

But for now, I had to bury my embarrassment and focus on the facade of grace and poise that was expected of me. It was just another twist in the intricate dance of nobility, a reminder that even in the midst of privilege and intrigue, the human heart remains susceptible to the most unexpected encounters.

Relief washed over me as the Count's business talk finally came to an end, and he announced our departure. The air felt heavy with anticipation, and while I yearned to glean insight from their conversation, I also craved respite from the embarrassment that had plagued me throughout the evening.

As we settled into the plush interior of the carriage, a somber silence descended upon us. The soft rustling of fabric and the gentle sway of the carriage were the only sounds that filled the space, amplifying the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. My heart clenched with a mixture of longing and apprehension, hoping for the Count's response to the questions that had been burning within me since our encounter.

Minutes turned into an eternity, each passing moment stretching the silence to its breaking point. I stole occasional glances at the Count, searching for any sign of forthcoming answers, but his face remained a stoic mask, revealing nothing of his inner thoughts.

Finally, the carriage came to a halt, the abruptness of the stop jolting me from my reverie. The Count gracefully stepped out and turned towards me, extending his hand as an unspoken invitation. A flicker of vulnerability danced in his eyes, as if his outstretched hand carried the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies and promises.

With a mix of trepidation and anticipation, I reached out and placed my hand in his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins. Our fingers intertwined, and for a brief moment, it felt as if the barriers between us were beginning to crumble, creating a bridge of understanding that had been sorely missed.

Together, we descended from the carriage, the cool evening air wrapping around us like a comforting embrace. My eyes, still laden with unshed questions, met his gaze, silently urging him to break the silence that had plagued us throughout the journey.

Just as I was about to curtsy and bid my farewells, my lips parting to form the words that had been burning on my tongue, the Count's voice finally pierced the silence, resonating with a mix of authority and vulnerability.

"Follow me," he murmured, his voice laced with an unspoken plea. It was a command that stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me-curiosity, confusion, and a flicker of hope. In those two simple words, I sensed a vulnerability and yearning for connection, an invitation to embark on a journey that would unveil the truths we both sought.

Compelled by a sense of duty and an aching desire for answers, I nodded, my heart fluttering in my chest as I fell into step behind him. The distance between us seemed to stretch impossibly far, a chasm of unspoken emotions and unshared secrets that had plagued our relationship for far too long.

The hallway stretched before us, its grandeur echoing with the whispers of forgotten tales and untold stories. Each step felt like a pilgrimage, drawing me closer to a truth that had long been shrouded in darkness.

As we ascended the staircase, each creaking step resonated with the weight of anticipation. The walls, adorned with exquisite tapestries and framed portraits, whispered tales of bygone eras and the lineage that we both carried within us. It was a lineage steeped in tradition and heritage, stretching back through the annals of time.

Finally, we reached the third floor of the manor, a place I had never ventured before. The hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly, lined with closed doors that held secrets yearning to be unveiled.

Confusion gnawed at my heart as we arrived at the very end of the hallway, where the Count abruptly halted, his sudden stop catching me off guard.

"What are we doing here?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. The words escaped my lips with a mix of frustration and longing, craving a glimpse into the enigma that surrounded our current path.

In response, the Count turned the golden doorknob and swung open the door, revealing a room shrouded in an air of mystery. His enigmatic gaze met mine, and with a quiet determination, he beckoned me forward.

"Come follow me inside," he said, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

As we walked into the room, I was immediately struck by the sight of numerous portraits adorning the walls. Each one depicted a member of the Clorance family, spanning generations of ancestors. The room was filled with a sense of history and pride.

I stood in awe, my breath catching in my throat as I surveyed the room. The portraits told tales of lives well-lived, of generations that had come before me, leaving an indelible mark on our family's history. Their features, delicate and refined, were painted with meticulous detail, showcasing the splendor of their noble heritage.

One striking commonality unified them all-their lustrous platinum blond hair, an unmistakable hallmark of the Clorance bloodline. It cascaded like spun gold, shimmering in the soft glow of the room, a vivid reminder of the legacy that bound us together.

Lost in the beauty of the paintings, I found myself drawn to one particular portrait-a woman who bore a striking resemblance to mine. Her eyes. Her ruby-red eyes that sparkled with a hidden fire, her lips curved in a knowing smile. However, something felt off about her, as if there was a secret hidden within the depths of her gaze.

"That is my mother, Matilda Roan Clorance," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

I was taken aback by his words, a chill running down my spine. My gaze flickered between the portrait and the Count, trying to reconcile the woman before me with the stories I had heard.

"Cassia," he called, breaking the silence. I turned to look at him, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes I had never seen before. His gaze remained fixed on the portrait of his late mother, as if searching for answers in her painted image.

"I know that my past actions don't deserve forgiveness, but I beg you to please allow me to apologize to you sincerely," he pleaded, his voice filled with a mixture of anguish and determination.

I stood there, unable to tear my eyes away from him, captivated by the rawness of his emotions. His words pierced through the barriers I had erected, stirring a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me.

"It wasn't my intention to make you feel unloved. To make you feel that I had abandoned you. I would never," he continued, his voice cracking with the weight of his confession. "However, I may have been consumed by my anger and resentment towards my mother, and I unwittingly inflicted it upon you. You share the same eyes as she did..."

He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. "My mother brought me a trauma that I may have to carry for the rest of my life. Due to her greediness and power hunger, she did things to me that were outrageous, things that were beyond comprehension. It was terrifying, experiencing such horrors. The memories left me scarred."

He turned to face me fully, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and remorse. "I never hated you. How could I? When you're the spitting image of your mother, the woman I loved the most, and the light that entered my dark life. But I couldn't seem to get past the reminder of my mother's eyes in you, and I unleashed my anger on you. I wanted to clear things up with you before, but you were still too young to understand. So, I distanced myself and worked at the second manor."

I watched as tears welled up in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, and it was then that I felt the dam break within me. Tears cascaded down my own face, a mixture of pain, understanding, and a glimmer of forgiveness.

Ah . . . This feelings and emotions, I know that they aren't mine. They are Cassia's.

'Do you want to talk to him?' I whispered at the back of my mind, talking to Unnie.

"Yes . . . I would like to."

Right. It's better for them to be able to fix this misunderstanding on their own. And so I gave the real Cassia the chance to possess her original body.

"You could've told me," Cassia said between sobs, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and relief. "You could've said it was all a misunderstanding. Why did you have to keep it from me for so long? I've spent years agonizing over why you hated me. Why you couldn't even look me in the eye. I've wondered what I did wrong. Was it because you blamed me for mother's death?"

Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of years of confusion and pain.

"No, of course not," he replied, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "It was never about any of those things, Cassia."

"Or perhaps you saw me as an incompetent daughter, someone who wouldn't bring any benefit to you. After all, Brother is your heir. He's the one who will inherit your title. He possesses the talent, skills, and intelligence that I lack. Unlike me, who has been labeled the notorious villainess-"

"To whoever spread those rumors and gave you that preposterous nickname, I will not let their accusations go unpunished!" he interjected firmly, his voice filled with protectiveness.

"But I've grown accustomed to it," Cassia sighed. "And somehow, hearing your side of the story brings me a sense of relief. To know that you didn't hate me... I... I am happy."

Overwhelmed by her emotions, Cassia felt her father's presence drawing near. He approached her with open arms and enveloped her in a tight, comforting embrace. Cassia, unable to contain her overwhelming feelings any longer, let her tears flow freely, her sobs echoing through the room. She clung tightly to her father's shirt, finding solace and catharsis within his embrace.

"I love you, Cassia. You are my precious daughter," he whispered, his voice filled with both love and regret. "You are the reason I chose to continue living after your mother's death. You were my savior, my ray of light. I love you as much as your mother loved you. I'm truly sorry for all these years of misunderstanding and pain."

In that moment, the walls that had separated them for so long crumbled away, leaving behind a bond strengthened by understanding, forgiveness, and an unbreakable love. Together, father and daughter embraced, finding solace in the shared journey of healing and reconciliation.

❛ ━━･❪ 🌹 ❫ ･━━ ❜

The next day, I awoke with red and swollen eyes, a telltale sign of the hours spent crying. My body felt weak, and a mild fever had settled in. Due to Cassia's emotional release, it has taken a toll on my body, and I found myself in need of rest and recuperation. Following Dr. Felipe's instructions, I drank copious amounts of water to replenish my dehydrated self.

Reflecting on the dramatic turn of events, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment that Cassia and the Count had resolved their misunderstandings. I remembered Cassia's whispered gratitude before our roles switched, and since then, a week had passed without any interaction between us.

Lost in my thoughts, a knock on my bedroom door brought me back to reality. "Come in," I called out, curious about the visitor.

Mira, one of the maids, entered and placed a gift box on my table. I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected arrival. "Who sent this?" I inquired, as there seemed to be no specific occasion for such a gift.

Mira replied, "My lady, the sender was not mentioned."

Curiosity piqued, I untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside, nestled carefully, was a beautifully crafted carillon music box, depicting a couple engaged in a graceful dance. As I lifted the music box, a melodious tune filled the air, soothing and enchanting. However, what caught my attention was the presence of a letter nestled within the gift box.

Examining the seal, I noted its unfamiliarity. With cautious anticipation, I sliced through the wax and opened the envelope, retrieving the letter enclosed within. The letter wasn't long, rather its message was precise and straight to the point.

❛ ━━･❪ 🌹 ❫ ･━━ ❜

I saw this music box while strolling around. I hope it's to your taste. Let us have a cup of tea when I get back. -YB

❛ ━━･❪ 🌹 ❫ ･━━ ❜

As my gaze fell upon the initials "YB," recognition stirred within me. Instinctively, I reached into my drawer and retrieved the letter I had received a few days prior. The initials matched, confirming that the sender was indeed the same person. And deep within my being, I had an inkling of who this person might be.

Why exactly does brother want us to meet?

To be Continued...