The group, greatly enlivened by the “gift of song”—a de facto singing contest—performed by his stepdaughter Adela and granddaughter Leonora, quickly rearranged the chairs and tables, even rolling the enormous cake stand back into the kitchen.
A makeshift stage was set up right next to the fireplace.
Emilia, who was supposed to be the star of the day, was left out of the excitement.
However, since she was the one leading the preparations, it was probably fine.
Even the servants got swept up in the excitement, adjusting the position of the sunlight to act as a spotlight, suggesting costume changes to make the performers look more like songstresses.
Watching all this, Leo’s face twisted with a mix of amusement and dread.
(Yikes, this is getting out of hand…)
The Marquis, taking advantage of the opportunity, had even called in the gatekeepers and the cooks waiting in the kitchen, resulting in nearly a hundred people from the entire mansion gathering before him.
The spacious dining hall was now packed to the brim with people.
(Performing a song for family should just mean standing up and singing on the spot, right? Why do these people have to make everything so grandiose?)
Leo, oblivious to the fact that his own gifts were also quite grandiose, was feeling overwhelmed.
He had accepted the request thinking it would compensate for his own shabby present, but it was turning into an ordeal far beyond his expectations.
(Well, no use worrying now. I might as well turn this crisis into an opportunity.)
Dressed in a frilly pink dress, Leo stood before the fireplace, bracing himself.
This wasn’t his recital; he was simply performing a demo of the lyrics he had written.
Luckily, the lyrics were written in seven-five syllables, making them adaptable to any melody. For now, he decided to use the tune of a hymn he had recently learned. It was essentially a parody.
“Leonora, what’s wrong? Don’t be so nervous. Come, sing us a beautiful song,” Adela said in a gentle voice.
Her kindness was part of a strategy; she had given up her position as the opening act to Leo to ensure she could recover the situation if he failed. In reality, she aimed to steal his warm-up time by making him go first.
But Leo, feeling supported, relaxed his shoulders and opened his mouth.
“…Then, I’ll sing,” he announced softly.
In the next moment, the room was filled with his voice, causing everyone to widen their eyes in surprise and then smile in bliss.
“Let there be light
As the frozen sky melts, the moon blurs
Falling into the hands of mortals
Golden drops of light.”
His voice was as pure as a spring water seeping into the earth, or as gentle as the pale light of the moon in the night sky. The transparent, noble voice, combined with the meaning of the lyrics, deeply penetrated the hearts of the listeners and stirred them.
“How beautiful…”
Someone murmured.
It was a truly beautiful voice.
The melody was based on a hymn, but the unfamiliar lyrics transformed the song into something that felt foreign and exotic.
“Leonora wrote these lyrics herself,” Kai whispered to Emilia. She nodded, deeply moved, and let out a small sigh as she listened to her granddaughter’s creation.
While listening to the lyrics, Emilia realized something.
“I stretched out my trembling fingers
Only to be met with cold light.”
At first, she thought it was a song praising the spirit of light, but it wasn’t just that.
The light returned cold to the fingers stretched out in trembling—could it be?
Emilia’s eyes widened in realization. The girl was singing with her mother—Día—superimposed on the spirit of light.
The scenes depicted in the lyrics went like this:
Golden light descended into the hands of a shivering child. The pure believer—the girl herself—praised the light and reached out to the sky. But the moon only returned a cold glow. The believer longed for its presence, prayed, and eventually ascended to the night sky, drawn to the source of the light.
When the girl finally sang without metaphor,
“Mother, mother
Oh, please stay by my side,”
Emilia couldn’t hold back her tears. It was so sorrowful, so painful.
Led by Emilia, those who understood the true meaning of the lyrics began to weep. It was a mournful song of lamentation for the late “Mother.”
(What is this girl… this song…!)
Even Adela, who initially listened with a hand on her cheek, couldn’t ignore the emotions welling up from her chest and began to panic.
In terms of skill, Adela was superior. Her voice was clearer, but she felt it lacked a certain charm.
(So why are these tears falling…?)
No, she knew the answer. The song was imbued with earnest emotion and unwavering love for her mother, stirring even Adela’s haughty heart.
The song evoked a desire to comfort, to embrace and reassure her.
(No, I would never think such a thing!)
She hated the girl, after all.
Adela, confused by the tears and the rising emotions, muttered “Excuse me,” and left her seat. She had forgotten to bring a handkerchief and needed to ask a servant to wipe her tears and blow her nose.
However, the servants were all entranced by the girl’s performance, ignoring the future marchioness’s actions. Frustrated, Adela moved towards the wall, raising her hand to perhaps knock over a decorative vase—
“Lady Adela.”
A voice called out from behind.
“Ah, Kai.”
It was her favorite former servant, Kai.
His beautiful blond hair and innocent blue eyes instantly soothed her heart.
“Please, use this,” he said, offering a handkerchief.
Of course, this was how it should be. Adela, feeling elated, blew her nose loudly but hesitated to return the handkerchief when Kai gently shook his head.
“What is it, Kai?”
“Lady Adela,” he whispered, leaning in close. Adela’s heart fluttered, expecting his usual gentle comfort, but his words were unexpected.
“Do you know about Leonora’s past?”
“What…?”
Everyone in the mansion knew that she had lost her mother early and was raised in the lower town before being taken in by the Marquis couple. What more could there be?
Kai, looking pained, cast his eyes down and spoke quietly.
“Leonora was targeted by despicable people who feared not even the spirits. She was sometimes deprived of food, sometimes beaten, and kept chained in a sunless place, barely clothed in rags.”
“What…?”
The shocking revelation made Adela’s eyes widen. She couldn’t imagine such a beautiful girl had such a horrendous past.
But—yes. Her thin limbs, halting speech, self-deprecating humility, and desperate clinging to affection—all hinted at her past trauma.
Kai raised his eyes and glared sharply at Adela.
“We’ve put so much effort into providing a clean, safe space and warm clothes for Leonora. Yet you, Lady Adela, sent old clothes like rags in a shabby carriage. You cannot understand how sinful that is. And your words and actions that seemed to test her were intolerable.”
“You’re nothing compared to Lady Leonora. Isn’t it time you realized that?”
“……”
Adela couldn’t say anything. The servant, who usually behaved so innocently, had cast aside his usual submissiveness to deliver a cold, cutting truth that left her speechless.
“No… that’s not possible…”
She couldn’t believe that such a gentle girl had such a painful past. That sweet smile wasn’t a calculated attempt to win favor; it was the genuine result of enduring unspeakable suffering. Despite being plucked like a bird’s feathers, she had maintained her noble and gentle heart, facing every trial with a calm smile.
In a daze, Adela watched the singing girl. With a smile that embraced everything, she sang of her love for her mother.
“You can keep the handkerchief,” Kai said in a chilling voice. He added, “And that is my last act of loyalty to you.”
With that, he turned on his heel with a graceful posture. This time, he didn’t say “I” once. Adela stood there, speechless.
At the end of the song, the girl received thunderous applause. Surprised by the volume, she widened her eyes, then blushed and fanned her face with her hand, as if to say, “I’m embarrassed.” She looked around with her large eyes and then spotted Adela.
“Lady Adela !” she called out, breaking into a bright smile. “It’s your turn next! Please!”
“…… What?”
“It’s your turn after me, Lady Adela. The opening act is over. Now it’s your turn!”
The girl, smiling innocently, encouraged Adela to sing. Seeing no malice in her smile, Adela felt a twinge of confusion. Just minutes ago, she would have dismissed that smile as a trick. But now she understood that the girl was genuinely smiling at her.
This girl, who she had cruelly wounded in the worst possible way, was smiling at her without a hint of resentment.
What a generous heart. And what a stark contrast to herself.
(This girl… she’s…)
A fierce guilt for tormenting a child with such a horrible past, admiration for the vast difference between them, and self-loathing for her own inadequacies churned within her.
(This is the difference between the daughter of Claudia, the social butterfly, and me, the leftover.)
For once, Adela didn’t complain or raise her voice. The girl approached her with a smile, pushing her towards the fireplace.
On the stage, feeling uneasy, Adela’s gaze wandered. She was good at singing and had planned this event to crush the girl. But after such a beautiful performance, she doubted she could sing properly in her current emotional state.
“Come on, Adela, sing. It’s been a while since we heard your voice,” her mother in law and husband said, looking at her with anticipation.
Adela bit her lip but when her husband said, “Come on, Adela , sing as you feel,” her eyes widened.
(Sing as I feel…?)
Those words triggered a flood of emotions. In a fit of desperation, she began to sing.
“Listen up, boy,
I’ve got something to say to you.”
As she started, everyone stared in shock. This was a song she heard once in a tavern, crude and shameless, unlike anything a noble would know.
Seeing their shocked faces, Adela felt a surge of satisfaction. Or she tried to.
“Who are you looking at with those whiskey-colored eyes,
When it’s just me here beyond the glass?”
How dare they ask her to sing her feelings? If she sang what she truly felt, it would be a crude, improper song.
“Treacherous, arrogant whiskey-colored eyes,
That woman will never come back to you.”
Adela had a brother, celebrated as a perfect future count. She had always been “Brother Burkhardt’s leftover.” Never once had she drawn attention, and when she started throwing tantrums, people began to avoid her.
The only exception was when she sang. No matter how much she raged, as long as it was in song, people praised her. Her husband had fallen for her that way.
When her marriage to Dietrich was arranged, she was happy. Despite the heartless whispers calling it a union of leftovers, she believed they understood each other. At least to him, she was the only woman.
But reality proved otherwise. Her husband often went out, leaving her alone. No matter how extravagantly she lived or flirted with other men, he only smiled and said nothing.
She realized he didn’t care about her.
Lady Emilia, hailed as the epitome of a lady, was someone Adela admired and tried to emulate. But she always failed and was met with disappointed sighs.
She then understood who she was being compared to—the late Claudia, the rose of high society, whom she could never surpass.
“Look at me, only me,
Hold me, hold me tight.”
She was miserable. She thought she had escaped being a leftover, but she was still just that. No one saw her; their gazes passed through her to her brother or a deceased woman.
“Please,
I’ll do anything.”
So she gave up. She ate until she was fat, wore flashy colors, collected beautiful things, and stopped hiding her feelings. She had to do something to comfort herself, or she would cry every day.
“That’s why… look at me…”
Tears streamed down Adela’s cheeks. But it was too late. Her childish tantrum, demanding to be seen, had led her to cruelly wound a powerless girl.
Compared to the girl’s past, her struggles seemed so petty. Yet she couldn’t even handle those minor struggles.
Crying mid-song, Adela covered her face, sobbing. The household members were bewildered.
Her song had shocked them at first, but it was clear to everyone that it was her raw cry of weakness. Her sorrow, expressed through song, left everyone stunned, unsure how to respond.
But then, “Lady Adela …!” the girl’s sweet voice broke the silence.
Thank you for the translation