In A World Full of Silence, My Heart Will Find Its Way To You - Chapter 67

Silence returned once again to Count Dennis’s bedroom.
Taking a maid as a mistress—it was something quietly common in high society.

But to Eric, those words only stirred his irritation.

Eric twisted one corner of his mouth.

“Will you only be satisfied when you’ve created another scapegoat? Like my mother, who died in pain?”

“Eric, that’s—”

“I won’t do something so cowardly. I don’t want to create a child who hides in a dark basement, resenting and cursing me every day.”

The Count, who had only moved his lips, could say no more under Eric’s sharp gaze. He let out a long sigh.

The Count’s furrowed eyes shifted from Eric to the teacup on the table. He downed the cold tea that had long since cooled.

Then, still staring at the cup, he quietly spoke.

“I don’t want to argue with you about this anymore. I know you resent me for everything that’s happened. Back then, I too was torn with conflict. I was afraid something terrible might happen if I brought your mother here too soon.”

“Bringing you here took great courage too. Just as you said, I was a cowardly father who cared more about the family’s honor…”

The Count stood slowly as he spoke in a low voice. Though usually cold and reserved, in front of Eric, his emotions poured out as if he were under a spell.

“That’s why I wanted to make you stronger. To raise you as a proud heir who could lead this family without fear of others. I suppose that was my selfish desire.”

“In the beginning, I never thought of pushing Edward aside and making you the heir. But I saw ambition and longing in your eyes as you pursued business…”

His heavy eyes briefly lowered, then rose again.

“It was a dangerous and unstable gaze, yes. But also, a sign of strength—strength to restore this crumbling family and bring it glory again.”

The Count looked seriously at Eric. His emotionless, cold face began to overlap with the image of the skinny child he had first met in a shabby, broken-down hut.

The large, round eyes filled with sadness—those were the eyes that had broken through his once rigid heart.

Trying to calm himself, the Count leaned on the table and turned his head to the window. A shadow lay across his face, showing deep thought.

He already sensed that Eric wouldn’t change his mind.

He had always blocked and opposed it. The price of his careless thought that love was just a fleeting spark.

Eric was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

He once believed that scolding or comforting Eric would be enough. But Eric’s will was stronger than he thought—tall and solid, like a great fortress wall.

The Count’s gaze returned to Eric, who had lost all reason.

Facing that deeply hardened expression, the Count realized he could no longer change his son’s mind.

Looking steadily into Eric’s blue eyes, the Count spoke again.

“That stubbornness… you got that from your mother. Maybe it’s the kind of courage that dares to take risks. Perhaps that’s what moves my heart.”

Slowly observing Eric, the Count walked toward him. The sound of his footsteps softly reached Eric’s ears.

It was the first time they had stood so close. Before Eric could show discomfort, the Count looked his son over with softened eyes.

There were deep wrinkles at the edges of the Count’s eyes, signs of age and time.

As Eric looked into his father’s face, a bit of fear and unease crept into his eyes without him realizing.

The Count looked down as if hesitating to speak, then took a deep breath and looked back at Eric.

“Do as you wish. I won’t stop you. You may not understand what kind of man I am… but no matter what you do, I will still name you my heir. So I hope this doesn’t leave any bad blood between us.”

The Count handed Eric an old, rusted silver ring.

“This belonged to your late mother. I was too much of a coward to give it to you before.”

Eric’s eyes flickered slightly at those words. The room was so quiet, they could hear each other’s breathing.

The Count didn’t look away, as if trying to express his firm decision.

In Eric’s eyes—cold like ice—a hint of emotion began to flicker.

When Eric’s widened eyes met the Count’s, the Count gave a small nod, as if confirming his son’s guess.

“Not everyone in society will bless this choice. But don’t let it go to waste. If you want to change how people think, you’ll have to do it yourself. I’ll be watching to see how you do it.”

The Count gently placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. Eric’s gaze shifted slightly toward the light tap.

“…Are you serious?”

“You’re only taking the first step. What’s there to be so surprised about? The steps that follow will matter even more. Things won’t go as smoothly as you hope. Even so, hold firmly to what is yours. No matter what.”

The Count took his hand off Eric’s shoulder and deliberately walked toward the window. With a soft cough, he looked outside with his usual stern expression.

It was a process he had to endure. To remain calm, he held his posture firmly.

Eric’s expression deepened. In his darkening gaze, complex emotions swirled.

“I will remember that.”

“Father.”

At that word—“Father”—from that emotionless face, the Count turned slightly and looked at his son.

There was a faint crack in the Count’s face, as if he was pleased to hear it. Watching Eric bow and leave, he muttered under his breath.

“What a strange boy.”

Morning sunlight quietly filtered through the red curtains of the Countess’s bedroom.

Inside, maids busily prepared her tea and clothing for the day.

Wearing the blue dress her maids had prepared, the Countess sat at the table, spreading out her skirt with elegance.

Her golden hair shone in the sunlight, and her emerald green eyes added to her noble presence.

Then, a knock broke the calm, peaceful silence. It was Lady Vianne, the head maid of House Bailey.

With tightly tied gray hair and a perfectly pressed black dress, she entered in a hurry.

Her face was pale and stiff.

At her sharp glance, the servants who were pouring tea quickly stepped back, sensing the tension.

“My lady, I have something to tell you. Young Master Eric is currently in the Count’s bedroom.”

“E-Eric…? That brat’s come back!?”

The Countess instinctively looked out the window with her teacup still in hand. The head maid continued after a deep breath.

“That’s not all. According to a maid who overheard their conversation… the Count has given his blessing for Eric to marry Aria.”

“Eric and Aria? How utterly ridiculous. Or… maybe it’s better this way. The nobles will surely whisper. He’s ruining his own reputation. Tsk tsk.”

The Countess clicked her tongue and sneered, but Lady Vianne’s face only darkened further.

“My lady, this may shock you even more… but the Count has declared he will pass the family title to Young Master Eric.”

“What?!”

“To name a bastard who’s marrying a maid as the heir—what on earth is the Count thinking…?”

Lady Vianne trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

The Countess slammed her teacup down in a fit of rage. The sharp sound echoed in the cold air.

Her once composed gaze turned into a venomous glare, revealing her true nature.

Her face hardened completely, as if she had finally lost the last shred of reason.

“So this is how it ends. He’s throwing Edward and me away… He must have planned all along to give everything to that brat. That’s why he always looked at Edward with such disappointment…”

She clenched her teeth, murmuring bitterly.

After a moment of thought, she turned to the head maid.

“There’s no other way. We’ll have to use it.”

“You’ve made up your mind, my lady…”

Lady Vianne seemed to understand what the Countess meant. She gave a small nod, then lowered her voice.

“Is the medicine stored safely?”

“I’ve placed it where no maid would dare touch.”

“Good. When shall we do it?”

The Countess paused for a moment before answering.

“What did Eric say he would do next?”

“He said he’ll be leaving again soon. Won’t he go to Aria?”

“Then we must finish everything before he returns.”

She looked out the window. The sunlight touched the distant annex, and her eyes flashed like a viper’s.

“There’s not much time left.”

“Yes, my lady. As long as we avoid the butler, it won’t be difficult to slip the tea to the Count. One maid is already on our side. That should make things easier.”

“Good.”

Her voice sank heavily as she nodded. Though she lowered her gaze to the teacup, her cold stare never softened.

How fierce this battle had been. She believed Edward held the advantage. Giving the title of second son to a bastard had already been an act of generosity.

She thought Eric’s fate was to live quietly and disappear.

But that arrogant boy stepped into business and dared to reach for Edward’s rightful place. A lowborn child, reaching so far.

She trusted her husband. No—she had to trust him. She never imagined he’d abandon her and Edward.

But the result of her long patience was this disgraceful betrayal.

After a brief pause, the Countess took the teacup and brought it to her lips.

As she sipped, a cold, mocking smile formed on her face.

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