The Isolated Marchioness Just Wants to Make a Living - Chapter 251

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Part 2, Episode 56
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And so Leopold and Brisa found themselves alone before the tombstone.
Of course, far off to the side, I could see Aibella and Alpheus sitting together, their shoulders heaving with sobs.
“Father…… Father! Even though I have such good memories of him…… with my own hands…… ugh…… I, I understand that feeling all too well…….”
Now it was Alpheus who was patting Aibella’s shoulder in comfort.
“It’s just too, too sad! Waaah, hoo-hooooo…….”
If there were a law of conservation of tears, it seemed to be holding perfectly true. Leopold couldn’t cry even if he wanted to.
Strange as it might sound, ever since he’d suddenly transformed into a dog, nothing felt real to him anymore.
He had so much he wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to utter any of it.
Days ago, right here in this very place, he’d thought he would never know happiness again.
Life kept dragging him down by the ankles toward only misery and despair…… and he’d been certain that his fate was nothing but to keep looking backward.
His parents’ absence, the burden of the Western Region, one woman’s hands that he could never quite grasp.
Just an hour ago he’d been convinced that he could only sink deeper into the marsh, weighed down by all of it.
He’d been responsible for everything alone since childhood. This matter was no different.
Given the gravity of the situation, he naturally believed it was his alone to handle—yet unexpectedly, people came flooding in, resolved everything for him, and even cried in his place.
Now he didn’t know what to do. So all he could do, as always, was suppress his emotions. He knew no other way.
And so he opened his mouth with a fractured voice.
“Today…… was supposed to be an important night.”
Because for him, the wellbeing of the girl—or rather, the woman she’d become, his first love—always mattered more than his own feelings.
“We couldn’t manage to end it on a happy note.”
“It’s all right.”
Brisa looked up at him with steady eyes and spoke.
“Because we’ve reunited tonight.”
He understood roughly what she meant, but deliberately pretended not to.
“We had our reunion in Behila—unless you drank too much that night?”
“We haven’t really been reunited until now.”
Brisa answered with a sly smile.
“Until now, it was just like when you were in Sebon. Even though we were together, we weren’t truly with each other.”
The night breeze ruffled Brisa’s platinum hair gently.
In that moment, he remembered something from early childhood—words his father had spoken while holding him close.
“I’ve known your mother for a long time. But every time I saw her, I thought: it has to be this woman, no one else. And letting her go would have been the greatest misfortune of my life—letting go of my life’s greatest fortune and achievement.”
And he seemed to recall his mother hitting his father’s arm from beside him, scolding him for being such a fool.
“Should you ever find such a woman, never let her go. Support her through any sacrifice.”
“That’s right. Your father gave up the Imperial Princess to hold on to me.”
“The sacrifice I meant wasn’t the Imperial Princess—it was my forearm. You hit it constantly.”
Father. I don’t want to let this woman go.
Something inside him seemed to crack open, as though a dam had burst.
Tears he hadn’t shed even while burying his father’s bones and the family portrait with his own hands finally welled up in his eyes.
“I’m so glad we’re together again, Leopold.”
She was right.
They had only now truly reunited.
“Welcome to my side.”
Leopold bit down on his lower lip.
Now he knew what to do. In this very place that had plunged him into endless despair mere days ago, he quietly swallowed a whisper meant only for himself.
Father. Rest well.
I will move forward now. With this woman’s hand in mine.
7. The Eastern Civil War
Midnight hadn’t yet arrived. My birthday was still in progress.
Leopold and I, along with Alpheus and Aibella, all headed toward Baron Forman’s Territory.
Hilberry had instructed us to “see if the festival went well,” but Aibella also wanted to taste the popcorn.
“Honestly, you can’t eat snacks all night, can you? Drink too much beer and you’re too full anyway.”
Alpheus praised the popcorn.
“But that popcorn is absolutely perfect—it just keeps disappearing when your mouth feels empty! It’s in a completely different class from your tavern’s french fries.”
“Watch your tongue.”
Aibella warned him ominously.
“Those french fries were my responsibility. That’s how I got the experience to become a Kitchen Maid.”
“Ah, I see. You did say you went in there for revenge, didn’t you?”
Alpheus spoke cheerfully.
“Those nobles got completely swindled. It was a solid revenge.”
Aibella huffed in annoyance and flicked his arm, only to get a dull metallic clink and a groan in return.
“But here’s the thing—why didn’t you tell our people all this time that you were the one who made the french fries?”
“Because I knew exactly what kind of reaction I’d get. I have taste buds too, you know.”
“Then you must love popcorn.”
Alpheus exclaimed with unbridled excitement, as if he hadn’t been crying mere moments ago.
“So let’s enjoy the festival!”
But by now I understood Alpheus. He’d decided that keeping Leopold distracted and busy was better than consoling him and crying together right now.
Alpheus had witnessed death many times. His composure was more practiced than mine.
Aibella seemed to agree with his approach, engaging in playful bickering with him to maintain the atmosphere. While they acted as if nothing had happened, they were extremely careful with what they said to Leopold.
Whether it was working or not was impossible to tell. Leopold’s expression was always hard to read.
Soon after, we arrived at Baron Forman’s Estate.
“Good heavens!”
Silvia rushed over in surprise.
“Is everyone…… all right?”
“Not at all.”
I shrugged and answered her trembling question.
“My clothes are filthy. It’s miserably uncomfortable.”
I had indeed spent the evening trekking through the Western Region in my elaborate party dress.
The lace trim of my gown was already tattered, and my hair, which the Maids had painstakingly styled, hung half undone.
Leopold, who’d been at the center of Air Strike, needn’t even be mentioned, and Alpheus had rolled around fighting with the Mysterious Assailant, so his condition was equally disheveled.
“Yes…… it does look that way.”
Silvia, who’d been studying us quietly, clapped her hands together.
“But if that’s all the trouble, would you like to wear festival traditional dress? Let’s go have beer! Your birthday isn’t over yet, is it?”
She poured out her words excitedly.
“People have been raving about the popcorn all night. Actually, they kept looking for you, asking if there was another new, simple snack you might have invented.”
Only someone completely unaware of what had just happened could speak with such bright innocence.
“Some people even asked seriously: what field would we have to plow next, and did it absolutely have to be done with Air Strike?”
But for us, her brightness was actually quite helpful. If we’d gone home and tried to sleep, we’d have lain awake in misery.
As a moment of silence fell between us, Silvia glanced around nervously.
“Ah…… w-well, surely high nobles wouldn’t want to wear clothes that commoners wear, right?”
She immediately backtracked.
“I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry. You’d naturally prefer not to…….”
“No, that’s not it.”
I quickly waved my hand in denial.
“It’s just that washing up comes first. Can you have clean clothes ready for us to change into after we bathe?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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