I've Tried Going Back to Life After Dying - Chapter 37

“Are you alright, Hildegard?”

In the carriage on their way back, Atrey asked with concern in his voice.

“Yes, I’m fine. Since you managed to calm my fury, my favorite fan remains unharmed, as you can see.”

Hildegard opened the fan she had recently purchased and held it up to cover her mouth.

“Please stop that! That’s your habit when you’re trying to intimidate someone. It’s making my chest ache.”

Amused by the way Atrey furrowed his brows, Hildegard narrowed her eyes slightly and gave him a teasing, upward glance.

“Please refrain, my lady. Lord Atrey might burst into tears.”

Immediately, Louise, the maid sitting beside her, intervened.

“Huh? Scary? Am I scary?”

Still covering her mouth with the fan, Hildegard maintained the same pose as she glared at Louise, then at Steve, the guard sitting diagonally across from her, before finally turning her piercing gaze back to Atrey.

Louise and Steve merely exchanged wry smiles, but Atrey genuinely looked on the verge of tears.

“You’re the last person I want to hate me. If you ever gave me that look seriously, I’d probably be so distressed I’d take to my bed.”

Hildegard decided then that she would continue bantering foolishly with Atrey like this, study diligently at the academy, and live the life she had chosen for herself.

“Hey, Atrey.”

“What is it, Hildegard? But first, could you close that fan?”

With a sharp snap, she shut the fan, and Atrey groaned, “Have mercy,” with a pitiful expression.

She decided to ease up on teasing him for now.

“Atrey. I’m changing my field of study starting next year.”

At that, Atrey gave a small nod.

Hildegard had become the heir to her family’s earldom. Given that, it would be more efficient for her to study estate management at the academy.

The academy allowed students to reselect their major at the start of their second year.

“If you’re changing yours, I’ll do the same.”

She had expected Atrey to say that. In this life, she no longer had to struggle alone. Atrey made sure of that.

She had parted ways with Clifford.

The sapphire ring that had once adorned her left ring finger, the one that had long marked her as Clifford’s marchioness was gone. Every shade of blue Hildegard had ever worn had once been chosen to match Clifford’s piercing blue eyes.

From now on, the blue she would wear would be the color of her own jade-green eyes.

“Hey, Atrey.”

Atrey turned to look at her when she called his name.

“I want to ask you for something.”

“You? Asking me for something?”

“Yes. I want you to give me a ring for this finger. I want the color of your eyes.”

She had once worn the sapphire ring as a symbol of loyalty to Clifford, who had transferred his love to Helen.

She had even managed to hand it over to Helen on the day of his funeral.

Clifford, unaware that he would meet Helen again in the future, had worn such a fleeting expression then. But since Hildegard had changed her path, his would change too.

She no longer had to be bound by sapphires.

Her bare finger was pale nothing like the gloved hand she had last seen. This time, she would live with Atrey’s stone adorning it.

“Understood. I’ll prepare it tomorrow.”

“Huh? There’s no need to rush like that our wedding day would be fine.”

“No, that won’t do. You might not know this, but I’ve known the size of your fingers for a long time. And I already have a stone. One my grandmother gave me when I was born. I’ll set that one.”

What kind of stone is that?

When Atrey mentioned his grandmother, he meant his maternal grandfather’s predecessor. His family had a long line of female heads, generation after generation.

If it was a birth gift from the former head, it couldn’t be some trivial trinket. It was practically a lifetime endowment from his grandmother.

“Can we pretend you didn’t just say that?”

“That’s asking too much.”

“It’s just I didn’t mean to ask for something so grand. I just thought, you know, whenever I look at my finger, I’d like to remember you. If I had your color on my hand, it would feel like you’re always with me, wouldn’t it?”

Hildegard spoke so quickly that Atrey didn’t respond. Perhaps her words had flown past him.

“Atrey?”

When he still didn’t answer, she leaned forward, peering into his face where he sat across from her.

“Oh no! You’re burning up, you have a fever! Your face is completely red!”

As Hildegard began fussing about redirecting the carriage to the hospital, Louise stopped her.

“My lady, please calm yourself. Lord Atrey isn’t ill.”

“What? But his face is so red!”

“Yes. It’s fine. If you wait just a little, he’ll return to normal soon.”

Is that so? Hildegard stared intently at Atrey.

“Could you not look at me like that?”

He refused to meet her gaze.

Atrey was a man of his word.

She had known that even in her past life.

After Lauren’s death, when Atrey took over the earldom, he worked tirelessly for Hildegard’s family just as he had vowed to her parents, pledging to contribute to the earldom.

“That looks heavy, sister.”

“Wouldn’t something that big interfere with daily life?”

After Lauren and her father voiced their concerns, Hildegard wasn’t sure how to respond.

True to his word, Atrey appeared at the earl’s residence the very next day, just as he had promised in the carriage. He knelt before Hildegard, who had come to greet him.

“Your hand.”

When she offered her right hand, Atrey corrected her. “Left.” Tentatively, she extended her left hand, which he seized firmly. Slowly, he retrieved a bare ring from his breast pocket.

“Huh? Atrey, what is that? A ring? Wait—”

Wait, that’s huge.

The massive citrine set in the band was larger than a quail’s egg—how had he even mounted it?

Atrey then slid it onto the ring finger of Hildegard’s left hand, which he still held in an iron grip.

As promised the day before, the fit was perfect. But the stone was so large it obscured her finger up to the second knuckle, overlapping her middle and pinky fingers and restricting their movement.

“Atrey, this is your personal inheritance from your grandmother, isn’t it? I really can’t accept something like this. I never meant for it to be so extravagant just a small stone of yours would have—”

“Don’t insult me.”

Still gripping her left hand, Atrey looked up at her from his kneeling position.

“‘A small stone,’ you say?”

Huh? Atrey, you’re scaring me. Your eyes look strange.

Her parents and Lauren, drawn by the commotion, watched Atrey’s bizarre behavior with a mix of intimidation and bewilderment.

“Don’t underestimate me. You’re the only treasure I need. Nothing else matters. Even this stone from my grandmother. it’s happiest when it’s adorning your finger. See?”

With that, Atrey lifted her left hand slightly for emphasis.

“Atrey, what’s gotten into you?”

Lauren’s voice, louder than expected, echoed through the entrance hall.

I feel the same way, Hildegard thought.

And so, Hildegard received a ring from her betrothed before their marriage.

The enormous, heavy engagement ring larger than a quail’s egg, impeding the movement of three fingers became a quiet sensation among noble ladies. They dubbed it “The Quail’s Token of Love,” sparking a secret trend or so the rumors went.