The One Who Won't Be Abandoned - Chapter 24

Despite attending a prestigious academy, Andre hadn’t returned to Dhel even once during the annual school breaks. The official reason was that it wasn’t worth the time and physical strain of crossing borders for a short one-month vacation.

However, I knew the truth.

In one of Andre’s letters, he had confided that the lord had strictly ordered him never to return to Dhel while he was still studying. No matter how much Andre pleaded—begging for even just a single day to spend his break in Dhel—the answer had always been an unwavering no.

Instead, the lord chose to visit Andre in Siamos, though only twice in all those years. Of course, I was never included in those rare visits.

Now, Andre had graduated from the academy and reached adulthood. Finally, he was allowed to return to Dhel permanently.

Over the six years, I had consistently received letters from Andre. But not once had I managed to send a proper reply. At first, I had convinced myself that our relationship wasn’t deep enough to warrant exchanging letters. Later, however, the real reason emerged: I was painfully aware of my terrible handwriting.

Looking back, it was no surprise that I was unaccustomed to writing. I’d never had any reason to write at all. Simply learning to read and write had been a privilege afforded to me thanks to my noble-born mother.

Even so, Andre’s persistence eventually pushed me to try. I picked up a pen and began crafting a reply. But when I looked at the result—Andre’s name, scrawled so poorly it was barely legible even to me—I knew I couldn’t go through with it.

Comparing his beautifully neat and elegant handwriting with my clumsy, indecipherable scrawl, I realized that sending a reply like this would only embarrass me.

That didn’t mean I could keep ignoring the letters of the Kaiman heir forever. Instead, I decided to express my gratitude indirectly, sending small packages instead of replies.

When Andre confessed in a letter that he felt homesick and lonely, I handmade a stuffed doll that resembled the storm clouds we had seen together on the slopes of Mount Kayal and sent it to him.

When he mentioned sleepless nights caused by growing pains, I bought an expensive remedy for him.

And when he asked for something that reminded him of me, I sent him a piece of flint I’d purchased in a village below Mount Kayal. Truthfully, the flint had been gathering dust in the corner of my room, useless in a castle like Dhel where matches and lighters were plentiful. I wrapped it up as if it were a meaningful keepsake and sent it along, hoping he’d appreciate the gesture.

And so, the years passed in a flash.

The Andre I remembered had been a boy smaller than me, but now, he was an eighteen-year-old adult. I couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d grown and matured. The thought filled me with anticipation, so much so that I’d barely been able to sleep the night before.

* * *

Mrs. Judith, the head housekeeper, was one of the last staff members personally hired by Baron Shunton before his retirement. She was a skilled professional whom the baron personally sent a carriage to fetch, a testament to her exceptional abilities. Baron Shunton, determined to restore the neglected Drehel Castle, brought her on board after much deliberation, and his choice proved to be an excellent one.

Drawing upon her 30 years of experience, Mrs. Judith took charge of the staff and began transforming Drehel Castle into a place worthy of its name. Despite holding significant authority in managing the estate due to the absence of a lady of the house, she never overstepped her bounds. Instead, she remained a wise and composed figure who understood her role and maintained an appropriate balance.

When it was confirmed that Andre would be returning, Mrs. Judith initially intended to assign me the task of attending to him, as I had known him the longest among the staff.

However, knowing full well how difficult Andre could be with his attendants, I politely declined the offer, even though it came with double the usual pay.

Truth be told, as a mere maid, I was in no position to refuse Mrs. Judith’s orders. Fortunately, I had the implicit protection of the lord behind me. For a brief moment, I noticed a flicker of displeasure cross Mrs. Judith’s face at my refusal, but she soon accepted my decision without further protest.

When news spread that Andre would soon arrive at Drehel Castle, everyone gathered outside to prepare for his reception.

“Keep in mind that the young master has a sensitive nature befitting his noble status. Be wise and act accordingly,” Mrs. Judith reminded Harman, the young servant chosen to attend to Andre, repeating her warning several times.

“If you find yourself struggling with the young master’s needs, don’t hesitate to seek Jeanne’s help. Acting on your own assumptions is not a good idea.”

“Understood. I’ll keep that in mind,” Harman replied earnestly.

Standing at the front of the group, Mrs. Judith and Harman glanced back at me. As I blankly watched their retreating figures, our eyes met, and I gave them a small smile.

Next to me, Snique, who had been quietly observing my profile, muttered regretfully, “You really should’ve taken the job. What a waste.”

“It’s better to take on another cleaning area than serve the young master,” I said.

“No way. He’s the heir! Imagine if you could catch his eye and become close to him—how great would that be?”

Snique, who had been watching my face, turned her head forward and added as if a thought had suddenly struck her.

“Then again, your future is already golden without you needing to try. ‘Would you care for some tea?’”

Snique mimicked Louis’s deep voice in an exaggerated tone, dropping her pitch on purpose. Her playful antics were almost childlike, a far cry from what you’d expect from a married woman with a baby.

I nervously glanced around, afraid Louis might overhear Snique’s teasing.

“Get a hold of yourself, ma’am. Your baby must be embarrassed on your behalf.”

“Oh my, are you worried about my baby? You’re already doing such a fine job as a godmother!”

“Wait, I’m a godmother?”

“I don’t have any friends but you,” Snique said, blinking her eyes pitifully.

“You’ll do it, won’t you? Godmother?”

Snique was a true native of Drehel, born and raised here without ever stepping foot outside its lands. In this remote, almost desolate area, her only friends growing up had been her dog and a single cow. Her longing for companionship was so deep that when she received a letter from her long-distance sweetheart, Drewil, telling her that Drehel Castle was hiring maids, she packed her things that very day and arrived at the castle without telling her disapproving parents.

Snique’s vibrant personality helped her quickly make friends at the castle, but she had a particular fondness for me. The biggest reason? I had a private room, which Snique had essentially turned into her personal lounge. She even had a pillow that was exclusively hers on my bed.

Just then, the lord of the castle emerged from behind the gathered crowd. His face, more alive than it had been in ages, was brimming with anticipation at the prospect of reuniting with his son.

The crowd hastily adjusted their attire and peered intently in the direction Andre was expected to arrive from.

“He’s not even twenty yet, so he must still be fresh and youthful. If he looks like the lord, he’ll be a real treat for the eyes. Jeanne, does the young master resemble the lord?”

“Yes, he does,” I replied, and like the others, I stared eagerly toward the path Andre would take to arrive.

A servant who had gone ahead to watch the hill suddenly gasped and shouted as he came running down.

“They’re coming! They’re almost here!”

The panting servant joined the crowd, catching his breath as a distant sound of hooves began to echo in the air. The rhythmic clatter grew louder and louder until, finally, the knights who had crossed the border to fetch Andre came into view.

My heart raced wildly, keeping pace with the thunderous hoofbeats that filled the air.

The horses neighed in protest as the knights pulled on the reins, slowing them down. The procession came to a complete stop about thirty paces from the lord. The riders dismounted in unison and approached him.

“Thank you for bringing my son back safely. You’ve done well,” the lord said.

Dune, the captain who had assumed his position a few years ago, smiled and replied that it was his duty.

Standing on tiptoes to see over the heads of the crowd, I craned my neck, searching for Andre. Yet, no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t spot him among the knights. Anxiously, I found myself inching forward, gently pushing past those in front of me.

“You’ve worked hard to come all this way,” the lord said, addressing someone among the knights while giving them a firm pat on the shoulder. His pride and fondness were evident in the gesture.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the figure he addressed—a person cloaked with their hood pulled low, obscuring their face.

“Have you been well?”

The voice that responded was a deep, resonant baritone, unfamiliar and imposing.

“Father.”

The voice that called the lord “Father” carried no hesitation or awkwardness. The figure with his face concealed beneath the cloak’s hood was indeed the person I had been searching for.

Andre!

My heart leaped with joy, and I wanted to rush forward and greet him immediately. But I knew I had no place in the warmth of that reunion. My lips twitched restlessly, itching to call his name, only to open and close without a sound.

Then, as Andre pulled back his hood, revealing his face, I instinctively gasped, as though someone had clamped a hand over my mouth, and quickly shut it tight. The sunlight illuminated Andre’s features at last.

His sharp features and strong jawline were both familiar and unfamiliar. The delicate boyish face I remembered had transformed into the rugged visage of a man. Andre was now taller and broader than his father, exuding a wild and commanding aura akin to the knights surrounding him.

It seemed that Andre’s six years and my six years had passed at vastly different speeds. In those years, I had grown barely a hand’s width taller—nothing more after reaching adulthood. Meanwhile, Andre had grown what felt like twice his size and returned looking like he could march into battle any moment. He hadn’t just matured; he had become a towering and formidable man.

The distance I felt from him—the physical gap created by his height and deepened by his resonant voice—only grew as I stared at his matured face.

Andre had returned as a man, and not just any man—a man whose presence overshadowed even the imposing knights. His transformation into someone so different from the gentle boy I had longed for was jarring. My initial joy at seeing him cooled, replaced by a faint unease.

I had known, logically, that time had passed and that things would have changed. And yet, the Andre who stood before me—so grown, so unfamiliar—felt distant and disorienting.

I found myself studying him, scanning his large, muscular frame with a cautious gaze. My apprehension grew as my eyes darted over his towering figure. Then, as though searching for someone in the crowd, Andre’s gaze moved—and locked onto mine.

His eyes remained fixed on my face as if he had found his target. A radiant smile broke across his face, so bright it seemed to light up the space around him.

The warmth and affection in his gaze were directed solely at me. For a moment, the distance I had felt dissolved, replaced by a wave of emotions that left me choking up. Struggling to compose myself, I forced a weak smile in return.

“Jeanne!”

Andre’s voice rang out as he cut through the crowd of servants blocking his path with ease. He stopped just a step away from me, his eyes locked onto mine.

“Jeanne…”

His voice trembled faintly as he spoke, and his expression, a mix of overwhelming joy and emotion, wavered between laughter and tears.

I had to tilt my head back as far as it would go to meet his gaze. My neck strained as I stared up at him, my tiny figure swallowed by his shadow.

The towering man who stood before me wasn’t just handsome—his sheer size was intimidating. His sudden approach felt almost like a charge, and I couldn’t help but feel a hint of fear.

“I missed you.”

“Ah, y-yes. Um…”

“Jeanne.”

Andre didn’t wait for a proper reply. Without hesitation, he opened his arms wide and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Ugh!”

The sudden pressure left me breathless. Andre held me so tightly that I felt my feet lift off the ground as though he intended to crush me in his arms.

“I’ve come back. Back to the home where you are. To where I belong.”

“Let… go… I… I can’t… breathe…”

I managed to gasp out my plea between strangled breaths, struggling against his overwhelming strength. But Andre, caught up in his emotions, didn’t seem to hear or notice.

“I’m finally home. Back to you.”

I remembered the boy Andre had been six years ago—the one who fit perfectly in my arms when he hugged me. The boy whose warm scent and tender presence had always comforted me. The vivid memory of that gentle Andre flashed in my mind, and I suddenly found myself wishing this was all a dream.

That this overwhelming scene would dissolve like a nightmare upon waking.

“Andre…”

He whispered my name again, holding me even tighter as if to meld me into his body. My vision blurred, and I felt myself fading, the sound of his pounding heart and the murmurs of shocked onlookers growing distant. Moments later, the world turned white, and I lost consciousness.

Clint, seated stiffly across from his son in the private parlor, sighed deeply and rubbed his temples as though warding off a headache.

Just moments earlier, Andre had stubbornly refused to leave Jeanne’s room, where she was still unconscious. Clint, who had been waiting in the parlor for his son, finally lost patience when night began to fall and went to retrieve him himself.

The scene of Clint forcibly dragging Andre out of Jeanne’s room had been witnessed from afar by a group of shocked servants, who whispered among themselves in disbelief.

Clint had anticipated that Andre’s return would make for a lively day at Drehel Castle, but he hadn’t imagined it would be quite this dramatic.

“The butler tells me that there’s already a rumor spreading among the servants,” Clint said, fixing Andre with a sharp gaze. “Apparently, the heir to this estate crushes any servant he dislikes to death with his bare hands.”

“My apologies,” Andre replied curtly.

“It’s a good thing Jeanne fainted from lack of air before her ribs could break. Otherwise, we might have been arranging her funeral.”

Andre winced, guilt twisting his face as he lowered his head. He had just returned from Jeanne’s bedside, where the doctor had explained her condition. While her ribs weren’t broken, the doctor suspected they might have hairline fractures and emphasized the importance of her avoiding even the slightest strain while breathing for the time being.

Wracked with guilt, Andre was overwhelmed by the realization that his inability to control his emotions had endangered Jeanne. The weight of his mistake hit him hard, and he could barely look up.

Years ago, hugging Jeanne tightly had always been Andre’s way of finding comfort and reassurance. But with his now fully grown and powerful frame, that once-simple act had turned into something dangerous. He only came to this painful understanding after Jeanne had collapsed in his arms. It was a bitter lesson learned too late.

The moment Andre had spotted Jeanne standing among the other servants, it was as if she were the only person in the world. Bathed in sunlight, Jeanne’s appearance was even more radiant than the image he had cherished for six long years.

Her beauty, reminiscent of a rose in full bloom, had left Andre breathless. Her soft, dark hair, her bright chocolate-colored eyes sparkling like gemstones, and the warmth in her expression as she recognized him—everything about her was intoxicating. Andre’s heart felt as though it might burst.

Unable to resist, Andre was overcome by a powerful urge to hold her, to breathe in her familiar scent, and to feel the comfort of her presence. His instincts screamed for him to pull her close and never let go. And he did exactly that, hugging her as if trying to fuse her into himself.

But his act of impulse quickly revealed its consequences. Jeanne, unable to breathe, had fainted in his arms. Andre’s face turned ashen as he called for the doctor like a man possessed.