Find the One Who Abandoned Me - Chapter 30

Calliope let out a long sigh and stood up from her desk.

Susan blinked and suddenly flailed a little, worried.

“You’re going alone? I can go with you! Let me just grab my—”

She was reacting that way because Calliope was headed to the annex to visit Ditron. He’d been bedridden lately, but apparently, he was feeling well enough today to ask for her. Then again, no one else in the household wanted to deal with him. She was the only one left who could be dragged into his company.

“It’s fine. Honestly, it’s easier dealing with that old man on my own.”

“Still… are you sure?”

“Has Deyloren reported anything new since then?”

“Nothing since the last visit,” Susan replied.

That last visit was when Deyloren had confirmed she’d found the herb Weedy. And now, word had just come in—Tulan, the final ingredient Calliope had asked the Marchioness for, had also arrived.

“That’s everything I need,” Calliope said.

Susan tilted her head. “So… what exactly is it for?”

Calliope smiled faintly. “It’s for something.”

“So many secrets,” Susan muttered, though she dutifully headed off to run errands as asked.

Calliope stepped out, leaving a still-sleeping Jack behind, and made her way to the annex. She entered Ditron’s room to find him slouched in a chair out on the balcony. He had clearly tried to maintain a noble posture, his back straight and formal—but his sagging shoulders betrayed just how weak he’d become.

“Great-grandfather.”

“What took you so long? I called for you ages ago.”

He didn’t have the strength to raise his voice, but his irritation was obvious. He turned his head sharply away. Standing nearby, Deyloren offered a subtle nod in greeting, avoiding his gaze.

Calliope smiled warmly, like a doting granddaughter, and slipped into character.

“I’m sorry. The Marchioness sent me on an errand. I got back as quickly as I could.”

“Hmph. That woman treats you like a servant, doesn’t she? Last time you went out with her, you came back empty-handed.”

Calliope dropped her eyes and nodded, feigning a bit of sadness. In truth, she had intentionally asked Circe not to buy anything for her—and acted like she’d been excluded. But people only believe what they see. The rumor had quickly spread that the Marchioness took the daughter of her husband’s former wife out shopping only to treat her like a pack mule.

At first, the gossip had been simple: “She didn’t get anything.” But it had twisted into something more malicious over time.

“I’m satisfied with what I have now,” she said quietly.

“Bah. How can you be content with so little? That’s such a small-minded way to think. You should fight for what’s yours!”

Ditron no longer bothered to keep up appearances. His health had deteriorated so badly that he couldn’t suppress his nature anymore. Despite the steady intake of herbal medicine, his strength hadn’t returned. His digestion had slowed, his body had weakened, and his panic had grown.

Calliope stood and walked over to him.

“Please don’t push yourself,” she said gently.

She took his frail hand in hers and looked him in the eyes with soft, shining affection.

“You’re going to live a long, long life.”

Her tone was so sincere that it soothed him, even in his state. For a moment, some of the tension left his face. She was the only one who still treated him kindly—his only remaining card. And now that he was sick and aging, a loneliness he’d never allowed himself to feel in his youth had finally caught up with him.

“Yes, I suppose you’re the only one in this house who still cares about me.”

His voice carried a hint of resignation… and the last trace of hope.

Calliope smiled brightly. Foolish old man. But she did plan to keep him alive longer than he was meant to live. In that, she was being entirely honest.

She broke her promise to Susan about returning quickly and stayed until Ditron drifted off to sleep. His outbursts could be difficult, but when she thought about being the last person beside him when his time finally came, she didn’t mind so much.

As he slept peacefully, he had no idea what she was truly planning. He couldn’t imagine the curse she was quietly weaving around him—smiling all the while. Her ancient enemy drifted off to sleep with his would-be executioner sitting faithfully by his side.

Once he was out cold, Calliope left the room with Deyloren.

“How long has it been since he started drinking the Weedy and Ronce mix?” she asked.

“About three days now.”

“As expected, it works slower when mixed with water. Let’s hold off on the Tulan a bit longer. Have you dried it the way I instructed?”

“Yes, my lady. Just a few more days and it’ll be completely ready.”

“Good. It needs to be dried thoroughly in a dry place. Otherwise, it loses its potency. Be careful.”

“I understand.”

With a soft smile, Calliope walked away. Deyloren stared after her small, retreating figure, then rubbed her arms, shivering slightly. She turned and quietly stepped back inside the room.

The next morning, Calliope got to work.

With Circe’s approval, she began purchasing the items needed for the tea party and started drafting her invitations. As she wrote, Susan stood by her side, marveling at her penmanship.

“You really do write beautifully, my lady.”

Calliope gave a modest smile. Well, I practiced until my hands blistered—of course it looks good.

Calliope was writing out the invitations herself, one by one, when her pen hesitated over the next name.

“…The House of Dylas.”

“Oh, the Marchioness added that one herself,” Susan said helpfully.

Circe had reviewed the guest list Illan gave her along with Calliope’s tea party proposal. She’d made a few suggestions, including removing some names Calliope had included—though Calliope simply smiled in response, unable to explain her reasons. Circe hadn’t pressed her.

But at the very bottom of the list, she’d added one: the Duchy of Dylas—Calliope’s maternal family.

Is she trying to push me to reconnect with my mother’s side? Calliope wondered.

She knew the Duchy had a daughter close to her age—the Duke’s only child and direct heir.

From what she remembered… there weren’t many girls with a worse temper.

Everything had to go her way, and she was known for her lack of self-control. More than once, she’d caused a scandal by publicly insulting her partner at social events. “Get out of my sight!” was a phrase often quoted—and mocked—in high society for weeks at a time.

All I remember is fighting with her.

One incident stood out. Calliope had intervened when the duchess’s daughter was verbally attacking another young lady. The humiliation on that girl’s face reminded Calliope of her own past self—isolated, looked down upon. So she’d stepped in.

The confrontation had escalated quickly. Calliope lost that argument and was disciplined by her family afterward.

“Could we ever get along? Like with Carolie…”

After all, she and Carolie had once had no relationship at all. And now? They were finally starting to connect. But Carolie had been a child. The Dylas heiress was two years older than Calliope.

“…I don’t think I can handle her.”

Still, since Circe had added the name, she couldn’t exactly remove it. And knowing her stepmother, she hadn’t added the girl just to cause trouble. So Calliope kept writing, finishing the invitation.

Preparations progressed smoothly.

Eight noble houses were invited, and thankfully, none declined. Likely out of curiosity. To them, Calliope was practically a mystery—an unknown girl who’d suddenly reappeared as the daughter of the former Marchioness.

It wasn’t unusual for noble girls to form friendships before their official debut, but Calliope felt like someone who had dropped out of the sky. There could be no mistakes—not a single thing for anyone to criticize.

She remembered her first tea party from her past life—what a disaster that had been.

“This tablecloth feels very old-fashioned. My grandmother would love it—so nostalgic.”

Fan hiding a smirk, a mocking tone barely veiled under polite speech.

Back then, the only help Calliope could call on were the annex servants. She hadn’t given them clear instructions, and the resulting mistakes piled up. Guests grew cold. Several left before the party was even halfway through.

Illan, of course, had only said, “Try hosting it alone. It’ll be a good experience.” No advice, no support. She could memorize every etiquette book in the world, but without real guidance, none of it mattered.

Books said things like “lace conveys elegance” or “bright colors add cheer,” but they never told you what was actually in style. And back then, there had been no one to teach her. Circe might have helped—if Calliope had even dared ask.

“A lady, where should I place this vase?”

“That one goes on that table.”

The delicate vases, carried in carefully by the staff, were arranged by Calliope’s hand. Red, yellow, purple—at first glance, an odd mix. But somehow, the contrast worked beautifully. The vibrant summer blue of the sky paired with the white tablecloths like a painting.

Usually, tea parties stuck to one or two types of flowers for consistency. Calliope chose variety—each flower representing a different meaning.

“How much time until the guests arrive?”

“About an hour, my lady.”

“And the tea and desserts?”

“The tea is ready, as ordered. The desserts will be served as guests arrive.”

Calliope nodded, then returned to her room to freshen up. Susan barged in right behind her, clearly flustered.

“My lady! You’re only getting ready now?!”

“I already did the basics, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but still! This is your first tea party—you have to be perfect!”

Calliope chuckled and sat in front of the mirror. She didn’t plan to wear heavy makeup—debutantes didn’t wear bold cosmetics, and she knew too much could leave a poor first impression.

She wore a summer dress made of soft blue chiffon, accessorized with matching blue gemstones. A ribbon from the Marchioness adorned her hair. In the mirror, she looked every bit the fourteen-year-old girl she was supposed to be.

Only her red eyes blinked back—striking, unchanging.

“I don’t need to look sweet,” she murmured.

“There you go again,” Susan huffed. “Do you have any idea how hard girls your age try to look sweet and lovely?”

“Oh, I know.”

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