Find the One Who Abandoned Me - Chapter 100

“Honestly, she charms people wherever she goes.”

Lady Berchia Dylas narrowed her eyes and cast a sidelong glance at Calliope. As Calliope finished her conversation and turned her head back toward Berchia, she caught the look and blinked in surprise.

That face… it’s too cute. I must be sick.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I don’t like it.”

“Oh my, truly? Thank you, Lady Berchia.”

“Can’t you just keep your mouth shut for once?”

As trivial banter like that passed between them, laughter naturally followed. Calliope was someone who smiled easily whether she meant it or not. And for Berchia, it was comforting to know that most of those smiles shown to her were genuine now.

After a while, one of the young ladies, who had just finished airing her grievances about her fiancé turned to Calliope.

“Speaking of which, what about your fiancé, my lady?”

Everyone perked up at once. Apparently, they’d all been wondering. Calliope smiled awkwardly and scratched her cheek.

“Which part do you want to know?”

“Well, for one, he’s quite famous now. They say he’s reached the level of a swordmaster, right?”

“There are rumors everywhere about how in love you both are. He must treat you well?”

“Do you have a favorite memory? Something special he did for you?”

It seemed the group had grown tired of sharing complaints and now wanted to hear something sweet for a change. After all, even if they had fiancés of their own, hearing about a good man was always a welcome fantasy.

Calliope fell quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Lately, her mood had been weighed down—largely due to the Saintess’s impending visit—so without meaning to, she found her thoughts drifting to the distant past. A time before everything had changed. Before she had returned to her own timeline.

“…Flowers,” she murmured.

“Flowers?”

They all tilted their heads, looking slightly underwhelmed.

But Calliope’s gaze was far away, lost in memory.

“It was shortly after we got engaged. I once said I wished spring wouldn’t come.”

“What? Why?”

One lady gasped.

“Everything felt overwhelming back then. A new environment. Things I had to learn. A family I didn’t know. I just wanted time to stop. I didn’t want spring to come.”

She remembered it clearly.

Time, of course, hadn’t stopped. And as winter finally gave way to early spring, she had sat quietly on the terrace of the annex, wearing a gloomy expression. That was when Isaac arrived—unannounced.

Startled, she had straightened up at his sudden appearance. From the bottom of the terrace steps, he held something up.

What’s that?

He said nothing.

In his rough hand was a small bundle of wildflowers. They were plain, almost scraggly—flowers that had barely begun to bloom on the roadsides as the weather turned warmer.

Calliope’s eyes widened. Isaac stepped closer and gently placed the delicate blooms in her hands.

“Even if you dislike spring…”
His voice was rough, but slow and deliberate.
“…I hope the spring you face with me might give you something to look forward to.”

Back then, when she had nothing—no confidence, no certainty—he had handed her a few simple wildflowers, and she had broken down in tears. Because she realized that at least he was thinking of her. Always.

As she wept, clutching those humble flowers, he had reached over the terrace railing and gently wiped away her tears. Then, without a word, he had left. She could still see the image of his retreating back in her mind as clearly as if it had just happened.

Calliope blinked as her thoughts returned to the present. The young ladies were watching her with wide, expectant eyes.

She gave a small, sheepish smile.

“So, he gave me some plain little wildflowers and told me he hoped I’d find a reason to look forward to spring—with him. It was so simple… so awkward… and yet, in that moment, it meant everything.”

The ladies all seemed moved by her story. They imagined it—the once-uncertain fiancé, carefully choosing wildflowers with his rough hands, then quietly offering them to the woman he loved.

One girl cupped her cheek and murmured, “How could a man like that exist?”

“My fiancé probably doesn’t even know what a wildflower is.”

“…I nearly cried just now.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Calliope said playfully.

Laughter broke out among them again.

Berchia raised an eyebrow. That stone-faced Isaac, the one who grew up practically at Calliope’s side, that guy had done something so unexpectedly sweet?

She stood up from her seat.

“Lady Berchia, where are you going?”

“The restroom.”

At her blunt reply, the girl who’d asked the question quickly closed her mouth. It felt rude to ask further—even if it was oddly abrupt.

In truth, Berchia simply couldn’t stand hearing any more fiancé talk. Calliope seemed to understand, so she let her go without fuss.

Lady Berchia Dylas left the glass conservatory and made her way alone to the training grounds. As expected, Isaac was there, training alongside the knights of the Marquess’ household.

He really had settled in like a live-in son-in-law now. Not that it was a bad thing—for him or for Calliope. The two were so attached that it was hard to imagine them apart.

Berchia raised a hand and called out.

“Hey.”

“…?”

Though deep in training, Isaac instantly recognized her voice and turned his head. He nodded briefly in acknowledgment—then turned right back and resumed swinging his sword.

A vein popped on Berchia’s forehead.

This blockhead… Can’t see anything beyond his fiancée.

“I called you! You could at least walk over!”

“Oh.”

Only then did Isaac lower his sword and approach her. He wore a thin, sweat-soaked shirt that clung to him, outlining his lean, muscular build. Berchia cast a jealous glance at his well-toned frame before plopping down on the steps near the training ground. She patted the spot beside her, motioning for him to sit.

“What brings you here today, my lady?”

“What do you think? I was at Calliope’s tea party.”

“Then why are you here…?”

“Because I got tired of listening to all the talk about fiancés. It was boring as hell.”

Isaac nodded, understanding. He could talk about Calliope for hours, but he knew it was hardly a pleasant subject for Berchia, who had no fiancé of her own.

Berchia sat beside him, arms crossed, face sour. Then she muttered,

“You’ve got more charm than I thought.”

“Pardon?”

“I heard about the flowers. When you two first got engaged, you gave her some, didn’t you? I didn’t think you were the type to say things like that.”

She grumbled out a short version of the story Calliope had shared at the tea party. Berchia still didn’t entirely approve of Isaac as Calliope’s fiancé—but they were both head over heels, and that wasn’t something she could interfere with.

And to think… this emotionally constipated block of stone had once done something that romantic.

But Isaac’s expression turned suddenly grim.

“…What’s with that look?”

He hesitated, his lips parting slightly, and then he spoke.

“I’ve never said those words.”

“…What?”

“I never gave her wildflowers.”

A shadow crossed Isaac’s face. Berchia frowned, confused.

“Why would Calliope make that up?”

“…I don’t think she did.”

“Then what are you saying? You just said it didn’t happen.”

“I’m saying… it wasn’t me.”

“What does that even mean?”

Isaac met her confused gaze, forced a faint smile, then covered his face with one hand.

“I’m not sure. It’s just a feeling I’ve had for a long time…”

He opened and closed his mouth several times—clearly wrestling with whether to say more. But the weight he’d carried for so long finally broke under Berchia’s bluntness.

“She… she sees someone else in me.”

“…What?”

Despair rose in his eyes like a tide.

“Since the day we met, I’ve had this feeling. I think it was he who gave her the flowers.”

Berchia was at a loss for words. It felt like she had accidentally stumbled upon a hidden crack in what looked like the perfect couple.

And at the same time… she didn’t understand.

Calliope sees someone else in him? But nothing about Calliope’s actions ever felt like she was treating Isaac as a substitute. She looked at him like she loved him. Spoke to him like she meant him. If she were seeing someone else in his place, it would be impossible to act the way she did.

Berchia opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had no idea what to say after hearing something so unexpected from such a casual conversation.

“I’ve known,” Isaac said quietly.

“You’ve… known?”

“Yes. She keeps assuming I like things I don’t. She misunderstands my thoughts. She says I’ve changed. That I wasn’t like this before…”

Berchia blinked.

“Okay, wait. This is… I’m getting a headache.”

Isaac gave her an apologetic look, then shook his head lightly and stood.

“It’s fine. I’ve always known. And I’ve decided it doesn’t matter.”

“…Doesn’t matter?”

“I’ll become the man she wants.”

“…You two are messed up.”

“I know.”

And with that, Isaac turned away, clearly done with the subject.

Berchia was left alone on the steps, her face tense with confusion. She sat there in silence for a long while before suddenly standing up.

That guy—after saying all that—was already back to training like nothing happened.

Berchia glared at him.

What Isaac said didn’t make sense. Calliope had described the flower story with sincerity. She genuinely believed it had been Isaac. But now he was saying it wasn’t him—and that she might be projecting someone else onto him.

Is he saying Calliope’s just… delusional?

That’s what it sounded like to Berchia. But Calliope had no reason to lie. And neither did Isaac.

So then…?

Berchia stood there in thought for a long moment. And then, as if making up her mind, she turned and hurried back toward the conservatory.

If she wanted answers, she’d have to ask Calliope herself.

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