122 – 53. Mother (3)
The pain of losing someone was more bitter than he had thought.
‘It was something I had already prepared for. The time left for my mother was short. It was something inevitable.’
He promised himself not to be sad or regretful, and in a conversation he had with Leticia, Ian let out all the mixed feelings he had kept inside.
‘It might not be a complete reconciliation. But I thought we had resolved some of the issues between us. Why now.’
Why was this suffocating feeling overwhelming him?
Why did it feel like his mouth wouldn’t open, and his mind had stopped?
‘I thought I wouldn’t be surprised. I thought I would send her off without sadness, feeling relieved.’
Unable to understand this phenomenon, Ian bit his lower lip hard.
Trying to hide the eyes that seemed on the verge of tears, he turned his gaze out the window and quietly watched the passing scenery.
Swish!
“…”
“…”
Without saying a word, Lya simply held Ian’s slightly trembling hand.
It took quite a long time from Ashlan with the Blue Moon Pavilion to Trishura with the Volkanoft Mansion.
But Lya held his hand until the very end.
***
Upon arriving at the mansion, Ian immediately sought out Shulkin.
There were no celebrations for the succession of the Marquis or a procession to welcome Ian’s return.
The current atmosphere in Volkanov was not suitable for such events.
Everyone maintained silence in their black attire, moving cautiously to muffle their footsteps.
In the silent mansion, there were only a few who could speak.
“Milord. May I ask how the funeral should be conducted?”
“Funeral, you say.”
In response to Shulkin’s question, Ian exhaled deeply and continued his thoughts.
How should the funeral be conducted? One might wonder why this question was even raised.
The Marquis’s lady mother had passed away. Therefore, it was appropriate to mourn according to the family’s status.
According to the traditions passed down, not only the residents but also external nobles would come together to pay their respects.
However, from Shulkin, who knew the relationship between Ian and Leticia, there was hesitation.
“I have to consider the discord between me and his mother. It’s inevitable.”
Even though the persecution had diminished over time and some grievances were resolved before closing their eyes.
That was a matter between Ian and Leticia.
From Shulkin’s perspective, ignorant of everything, proceeding with the funeral in the traditional manner could risk upsetting the Marquis.
“He must think I will choose one of two options. First, a modest mourning within the family. Second, conducting the funeral while adhering to tradition.”
Whichever option he chooses, they would not show discontent. They would simply nod silently, even if offered just a glass of water.
Perhaps Shulkin was thinking that Ian would conduct Leticia’s funeral in that manner.
That was why.
“Preserve the tradition. Proceed in a way that allows as many people as possible to mourn.”
“Should it be as grand as possible?”
Ian’s unexpected command left Shulkin’s eyes wide in surprise.
Ian was not concerned about the discord with Leticia.
Of course, it was a fact that he suffered because of her. He only resolved the strained relationship in the end.
But he had no desire to ruin her funeral, which was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
“Yes. Even if we call it an Empire’s pillar, we cannot hold a modest funeral for the family.”
“…Understood. I will make the preparations.”
Ignoring the gazes of others, it was his own decision. Ian, without revealing this fact to Shulkin, gave the order and watched as Shulkin nodded once before stepping back.
The attendants began to move busily. Whether Shulkin gestured to them or not, they were swiftly preparing for the funeral.
Ian, who had been staring blankly at them, slowly walked down the corridor.
Eventually, he arrived at a certain place.
“Here is…”
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In the middle of the corridor, beneath a grand portrait of Alex Volkanov, lay numerous frames.
Starting with a picture of Kilrain and Leticia from their academy days, there were family photos scattered around.
Among the small frames there.
Picking up Leticia’s portrait, Ian brushed off the dust and turned back towards the room.
“Losing someone… it’s hard to get used to.”
Parting ways with a strained relationship was not easy.
Ian, heading to his room, lay on the bed without any particular thought, gazing up at the ceiling.
There was no special meaning behind it. He just wanted to lie down and do nothing, exhausted as he was.
It was only natural; after all, hadn’t two major events occurred simultaneously? The Emperor, who had handed over his duties to his children to rest after battling illness, unexpectedly had to attend an investiture ceremony himself. Ian had to wait nervously, his tension not easing, only to receive news shortly after that his mother had passed away, leaving him with a sinking feeling in his chest.
In such circumstances, it was impossible not to feel worn out.
He needed some rest, even if just a little. With that thought in mind, Ian absentmindedly closed his eyes, staring at the ceiling.
“… Did I pass out?”
Awakening from what felt like a swoon, he blankly looked at the clock.
1:40. It meant morning, not afternoon; in other words, dawn.
“While others are busy preparing for the funeral, I’ll just go to bed in my room.”
He felt like he might go crazy.
Of course, it was understandable that he felt distressed, receiving the news of his mother’s passing right after the investiture, but wouldn’t it seem strange if he was found sleeping peacefully?
For others, it was common to faint from crying incessantly until collapsing, not to mention abstaining from food and drink.
“But our Lord probably wouldn’t think I passed out happily in bed.”
Unless he was fearless, he wouldn’t speak such thoughts out loud.
Yet, he had to keep up appearances. He couldn’t help but be concerned about the rumors swirling behind his back.
“Well, what can I do? It’s the same as passing out anyway.”
Ian, pondering how to overcome this obstacle, eventually reached a conclusion.
At the moment, there seemed to be no other way.
If he was caught sleeping, it might give off an image of a ruthless ruler who went to bed without shedding a tear even after his mother’s passing. If not caught, he would appear cold and composed on the surface, but inside, he would seem warm and full of affection, like a generous and caring leader.
If he acted that way, there shouldn’t be any major issues.
Getting up slowly from the bed, Ian opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Except for the personnel on guard duty, there was no one else visible in the dark corridor.
“Since I’m already up, I might as well have a drink.”
There was water by the bedside table, and anyway, if he called, the maids would come running.
Having made up his mind to get up, Ian decided to head to the dining hall himself.
After exchanging casual greetings with the guards, he moved slowly towards the dining hall.
Turning on the lights and opening the fridge, he could see items inside.
“Here’s the water, and… what’s this?”
Among the fully stocked food items, there was one pot occupying its own space.
Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t just a pot; it was a pot used for cooking something.
“Why is there a pot here?”
Was something being prepared and temporarily left here?
But it wouldn’t make sense for it to be placed so deep inside, right?
“It’s not for storing already made food. If it’s something yet to be made, it’s common to place it at the front for easy access.”
Then what could this be, taking up the spot in the fridge?
Ian, in a strange state of mind, slowly lifted the pot to prevent the ingredients from spilling out.
It was the moment he gazed at the pot being pulled out as if drawn.
Swoosh.
“Huh? A piece of paper?”
A paper that had fallen and gotten stuck under his shoe.
Considering it had fallen while taking out the pot, it seemed like it was originally placed together. As the ingredients rushed in, it appeared to have slipped from the pot.
So, it must have fallen out together when he retrieved it.
“Has it been this long? What is this, anyway?”
Seeing the steam rising, it seemed like even a preservation spell was cast on it.
Is there really food inside? With a hint of doubt, Ian used his mana to pull up the fallen paper with one hand while holding the pot.
Zip!
Ian deftly caught the paper floating in the air. He glanced over to the other side and confirmed the contents.
He could see it.
[To my son….]
“What is this?”
The moment he saw the letter written in Leticia’s handwriting.
With a trembling hand, Ian opened the lid of the pot, revealing the contents.
[Realizing that death is near, memories of regrets and many thoughts began to surface. Remembering harsh words spoken, and the fact I never said ‘I love you’ came to mind…. But what I regret the most is not being able to give you a proper meal all this time. I wish I could feed you while looking at your face. But as a mother, knowing I lack in everything, I don’t have the right. I hope you can forgive me for leaving you like this. I love you, my son.]
“Stew….”
The sight of warm food emanating heat.
He seemed to space out. The steam rising was almost like a hallucination, and for some reason, reading the letter made his body move involuntarily.
When he snapped back to reality, Ian found himself staring at the stew on the large dining table, absentmindedly picking up the spoon.
As if biting his lip, he scooped it up and put it in his mouth. The familiar taste made his fist clench involuntarily.
“…Delicious…. Truly….”
Ian, who let out an incredulous chuckle, carefully folded the letter and tucked it into his chest. He then picked up the spoon once more.
Who’s cutting the onion?! Stop it damn it!!!