What Remains at the End of Regret - Chapter 21

The waves of the Tannic Sea looked especially cool and free today.

Vivian didn’t hesitate for long. She picked up her shawl and walked quietly at first, but as soon as she stepped out the front entrance, she began to run across the estate.

Betty was on her way to fetch Vivian at the request of the Lady, who had invited her for a light tea. She shouted in alarm when she saw Vivian suddenly burst out of the house.

“Where are you going?”

“To the woods!”

“The Lady is asking for you!”

“I’m not going. No, I can’t go right now!”

Vivian ran straight out of the estate without giving Betty a chance to stop her. Left behind, Betty could only watch helplessly and mutter to herself.

Of course.

The troublemaker who used to stir up all of Fauvert, the tomboy Miss Vivian used to be, had not disappeared after all.

What on earth am I supposed to tell the Lady now?

Betty stamped her feet in frustration and let out a sigh filled with worry. Then she remembered what Vivian had said about going to the forest and spoke again in a low, anxious voice.

It’s supposed to rain later.

At the far end of the small forest behind the estate was a quiet shoreline of the Tannic Sea, where Vivian often swam and played. Betty knew that place well. It was Vivian’s secret spot. She was the one who had gone there many times to bring the girl back after she had been scolded by the Lady.

But Betty soon shook off her thoughts and began walking slowly.

She’s not a child anymore. She wouldn’t actually go swimming, would she?

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The forest behind the viscount’s estate led to a peaceful stretch of the Tannic Sea.

Vivian liked the busy harbor too, but what she loved most was lying in the quiet sea where no one else came.

It made her feel like the sea belonged only to her.

Her mother never understood that feeling. Coming back soaked every time was not something a proper lady would do.

The heat of the sand wrapped around her feet. Vivian moved her toes slightly, then without hesitation, ran straight into the sea.

The warm water, heated by the sun, covered her body in an instant.

Beneath the surface, everything felt smooth and calm.

“Marriage,” she whispered.

She had always known that she would marry Hayden one day.

In the past, the gap between nobility and commoners would have made that impossible. But in the face of wealth, status no longer mattered. Vivian knew that much. Even though she could not fully imagine how much money the Harper family had, she could understand that there must be a clear reason her father chose Hayden.

She had always assumed that if she ever got married, it would be to Hayden.

She never questioned whether she loved him. Being with him had always made her happy.

So why, now that the date was set, did she feel unsure?

Hayden always gave her confidence. He never hesitated. And yet, that uncertainty made her feel like she was betraying him. Vivian had to convince herself over and over again.

A country noble family like hers, with a viscount’s title and modest means, might be lucky enough to survive changing times by joining with a similar house. Or they might lose their title entirely.

Her mother had said that there would never be a better match.

In a time when love in marriage was considered a luxury, Hayden, who loved her deeply, would be the best husband and father. Her mother’s firm voice echoed in her mind like a soft ringing through the gentle waves.

Vivian didn’t understand her heart anymore.

The day Grandpa Len asked her if she loved Hayden, the loud hum of the fan had been the only sound in the room.

Back then, she had felt sure. She believed she loved Hayden.

So, what is this feeling now?

Vivian wished she could shake off the guilt that weighed on her every time she thought of Hayden. Her body was submerged in the water, only her head above the surface, as she stared at the distant cliff where the grand Lockberg estate stood.

The mansion rose high above the cliff, looking like a massive fortress. When sunlight touched it, the stone shimmered, almost like a sacred temple.

Vivian suddenly remembered the refined face that had once approached her with perfect elegance and spoke cruel, cutting words. She sank her head beneath the water.

Since her first visit to the famous Lockberg estate, which she had only known from distant rumors, she had not been able to forget the cold eyes of the Duke that had stared at her.

Whenever her thoughts became too heavy, like today, she would surrender her body to the open sea and look up at the mansion from afar. It helped calm her down, even if just a little.

She burst to the surface with a gasp.

That was when a sudden wave of courage rushed through her. The water, once calm, had begun to stir.

Vivian took a deep breath and dove fully underwater. Her slim legs pushed against the sea with strong, steady strokes. Like a fish, her body moved with light and graceful rhythm. Each movement created soft white foam that trailed behind her.

As she approached the beach at the bottom of the cliff, she suddenly felt a chill run through her. A drop of cold water touched her cheek.

It was rain.

A sudden shower had begun without warning.

Vivian looked up at the sky. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes as she stared at the dark clouds that had gathered before she could notice.

The gentle drizzle quickly turned into a downpour. She had swum too far to return the way she came.

If the rain grew heavier, the waves could become dangerous.

Vivian stopped thinking and started swimming harder. She aimed for the nearest land she could reach, the sandy beach at the base of the cliff.

When she finally climbed onto the shore, she was completely drenched. The rain soaked her just as much as the sea had. She stood trembling in the cold, looking like a small, wet animal.

Her shawl was still on the far side of the beach, too far to retrieve now. All she had was the light summer dress she had entered the water in, now clinging tightly to her skin.

Her breath was short from swimming, and her body was shaking. Desperate to escape the rain, Vivian looked around.

She spotted a small guesthouse nearby, old but beautifully built.

She did not have time to wonder who it belonged to. Her lips trembled as she glanced toward the mansion high above on the cliff. Then she looked back at the wooden house.

There was no time left to think. That house was her only shelter.

She ran toward it through the heavy rain, stumbling as she went.

Once she reached the door, she wrung out her soaked dress as best she could. She pushed back her wet hair and quietly opened the door.

“I just need a place to stay until the rain stops,” she whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

The inside of the guesthouse was completely silent.

Vivian stepped deeper into the room, hugging her arms around herself. The cold would not go away. She needed warmth.

Her wet footprints marked the floor as she moved.

She passed by a staircase that seemed to lead to the second floor. Then she spotted a fireplace. Someone had used it recently. A few weak embers still glowed.

She hurried over and reached out her hands. Warmth spread slowly through her fingers.

She lowered herself to the floor, pulled her knees close, and wrapped her arms around them. Resting her face on her legs, she let out a tired sigh.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.

Her thoughts were still tangled. Nothing had been solved. Now she was soaking wet on top of everything else.

She had even entered someone else’s home without permission.

The guilt inside her spread slowly, like the rain falling outside.

Where am I, really?

That question crept into her thoughts, and a quiet sense of fear followed it.

This beach lay just beneath the cliff where the Lockberg family’s summer estate stood.

And the guesthouse, quiet and elegant, had been built on this very shore.

Vivian stood up quickly.

The decorations she had passed on her way in were of a quality rarely seen. Vivian finally became calm enough to think rationally about where she was.

She had a sinking feeling.

She needed to leave.

Some part of her instinctively knew the truth. At the very least, this place was connected to the Duke.

The faint embers in the fireplace meant he might still be staying here.

Vivian turned toward the door to leave, but her breath caught in her throat.

The Duke was sitting on the stairs, his arms crossed, his head leaning back against the railing.

His slow, heavy gaze moved over her from head to toe.

Panic rose inside her like prey caught under the eyes of a predator.

The moment their eyes met in the still air, the Duke stood and began walking toward her.

Slowly.

“Hello,” he said. His voice was warm.

“We meet again.”

As if he had come only to insult her all over again.

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