The Escape of Layla

We headed to your father's study with great care to keep things as quiet as possible. Thanks to the moonlight that plugs through the window, it was salvation that made it much easier to move around than I thought.

I've lived in this mansion for 18 years, but I've never been in your father's study or anything. We barely even had a conversation. Even though I was a blood connected parent and child, my heart connection was undoubtedly much more rare than the maids with me.

Eventually I breathe small about before your father's study. Perhaps it is because this is the unknown realm that feels somewhat obscure, even though it is a door that is not so different from the rest of the room. I put my hand on my chest only once and took a deep breath. Mr. Leenhardt mops my back like that.

"... it seems painful to offer myself, but let me go into this room alone. I have to separate myself from the Duke's house here."

It was me who had said numerous goodbyes, but now was the culmination in the sense of tension: could I be freed in the true sense from the Duke's house, which had been imprisoned for 18 years? Can we say goodbye to ourselves for making mistakes, obsessed with unrewarded love?

I'm just going to see your father, but it's kind of a big deal. But that was about the big test in me. I meditate my eyes only once and stare at your father's study door.

"I get it. You don't have to worry about me. 'Cause I'm waiting here."

"... thank you"

Mr. Leanhardt will be waiting for you. I just thought so, and I felt the wonder and the courage to open the door.

"Well, you're coming."

"Yeah, take your time"

I put my hand on a cold cut door knob at the signs of the night and gently put my strength into it. He makes a slight noise and dives through the open door, stepping into the unknown realm.

Your father's study had enough books to call it a little library. I was proud of myself for reading more books than a common ordinance as part of Princess Wang's education, but I am no match for this number.

… I wonder if your father has read all the books here.

It had everything from specialties in geography, economics, kingdom history and, at the end of the day, pharmacology and everything from famous literary works. Seeing a lot of books I've never read makes me wonder and mind pop. A little sooner, I wanted to know the existence of these books.

Although, even if I knew, I wouldn't have had the courage to ask your father to borrow a book.

I can't help but laugh at the thinness of the relationship that I really don't think of as a parent or child. What would your father think if he read this letter of mine? No matter how much I thought about it, I still couldn't predict it, and the fear of rejection was fading.

As we continued to rely on the moonlight to the back of the room, we noticed, uh, orange light leaking. So I lay down on my desk, and admit to the person sitting there, and I leaned on my bookshelf.

... Your father is here.

He said he was here to see your father, but just seeing him makes me strangely nervous. Put your hands gently on your chest to calm your breathing. I first thought about how I should show up, thanking you for being in the study.

But I feel uncomfortable in a strangely quiet room when I work for you. I can't hear you running the pen or rolling the paperwork. Besides, from that attitude I saw only for a moment, maybe you're off.

Never mind, just a little face out of the bookshelf to see how your father is doing. I guess I got off work to judge from my regular up and down back. I turned to the concierge, careful not to make any noise to surprise your father.

When I looked at your father up close, I felt like I had more gray hair than three months ago. Did my escape cause any inconvenience? Though there was no general family-like deep emotion, I felt sorry for it.

Second, a small portrait decorated on the desk catches my eye. What was depicted there was a mother smiling beautifully as if she had received every blessing in the world.

I was a little surprised by this. To be honest, I'm surprised. Naturally, I thought there would be no such thing as my portrait, but I would have stepped on Rose's portrait. That's why I was so drowning, I thought it was no wonder it was decorated with a few pieces.

I looked around unexpectedly and looked for it to be decorated on the wall, but there was still no painting of Rose. Instead, find a portrait of your mother's youth in the shelf. She looked just like Rose, but her mother still had a more elegant standing.

Your relationship with your father was so rare that he didn't know exactly what your father thought of your mother, but he loved you a lot in this way. There was always a passionate part about your heartless, silent father.

That's probably why, extra, your father couldn't help but find Rose, who resembles his mother, who felt like some of the mysteries of 18 years had been solved.

Softly place a letter on your desk with the truth about a series of disturbances and once again stare at your father. As he was unsure how he should speak, his father accidentally looked up in disguise.

"... who?

I miss that voice for a moment with a slight mix of alert colors. I remember such illusions, like I was on a long journey, even though I was only three months away.

Looking at your father with confusion, his flax eyes and eyes immediately met. Even the same flax color, eyes that give a calming impression with a slightly deeper color than mine. I've never seen that eye shake before. And that didn't seem like an exception in this situation.

"... Layla?

"... Long time no see, Father"

I thanked her small, careful not to break her smile. Your father stared at me silently for a while, but gently placed his hand between his eyes and sighed.

"... it's a lucid dream."

Dreams, yes, or is that what you think? It may have come to that judgment from the circumstances in which I fell asleep in the study and the unnaturalness with which I am here. Or maybe you decided to talk to me in a body called Dreams, but I didn't mind either if I could talk to your father.

I smiled all the time and nodded and showed to affirm your father's words.

"I've really told your father something."

"What do you want to tell me?

"... I have a heavy load to tell you in words, so could you read that letter?

Letters are more certain than words if you don't share emotions. Before your father, I have an excuse. I can't even tell you that words don't mix. I held my fingertips tightly as I watched your father open the seal of the letter.

Your father stared at the letter without saying anything. The fact that the father of the child Rose was wearing was not His Royal Highness, that Rose put sleeping pills on His Highness, that that accident I was kicked by a horse was caused by Rose, and that I tried to hide the truth about the accident, all of which is written down.

The silence was somewhat painful. I can't anticipate your father's reaction. I don't know your father as well as I expected, so I can't help it.

Clarify your ears with the sound of the clock advancing the needle regularly. It was a strangely uncomfortable time.

"Rose......"

Her father's voice calling her name, still in the dungeon, was filled with sadness and surprise, and he realized that no more words came out. Silence comes again as it is.

"... this is all true."

After a few minutes that seemed forever, your father asked in a quiet voice. It's your father who wouldn't tell you if he thought Rose wasn't like this, or that this happened because you didn't watch him properly as his sister. Thoughting through all the emotions hidden behind that quiet word, I lay my gaze down gently, nodding and making it look small.

"Yes.... sorry"

I know that one word like this can't be forgiven. Still I couldn't help but say it.

"... The truth is, there was also a way to save the Duke's house. If I gave myself to His Highness, I could save Rose's life and protect the Duke's family."

I had never seen your father get angry or anything, but I decided to be scolded for this. From the Duke of Ashbury's house, I'm a fine traitor.

"... His Royal Highness Prince Wang, don't make a bargain that's hard to come by."

Your father's words were terribly light, even though he accidentally meditated on his eyes and said he was prepared to be beaten. Unexpectedly, I turn a surprised glance.

"... don't you get angry?

"I just hit my wrath against you, and there's nothing I can do about it now."

Your father put the letter on his desk with a seeping deep sigh of giving up. The reaction was too unexpected to hide the confusion.

"... Your father thought he would be angry with me. I was wondering why you didn't choose when there was a way to save the Duke's house."

"I guess I didn't like to dedicate myself to Your Highness. As much as you throw out your position as the Duke's Lady."

It was too unexpected from what to what, and I finally ran out of words to give it back. Your father looked up at me and groaned pompously without changing his expression.

"... would have been a big secret to hold alone"

"Oh no... things..."

Because you think this is the place in your dreams, your father is rapping sooner or later. I've already had a conversation for a couple of years, just in terms of the number of words.

"You look like a real surprise."

"Yeah, well... your father just didn't think I was interested in being there."

I don't know that you hate me, but I thought I was sure you weren't interested. Rarely does your father laugh at my words like that.

"Well, you can't help it if they say so. In that attitude."

"Do you want to tell me that the truth is different?

How much I think I've spent my childhood in my emptiness. I don't know what look I should give my father before he says all the words I can't grasp.

"Right, neither Leila nor Rose will change for me. I love you as much, and you can say I wasn't as interested."

"... I apologize for my disrespect, but if they think you were treating me and Rose equally, I think it would be better if they changed their perception. Something too biased."

"I don't think we were dealing with reciprocity. There would have been clear discrimination. Lydia was too hard on Leila."

When your father took a small sigh, he took a small portrait on his desk. My gaze at my mother in the painting is always kind, and I can see the depth of my thoughts about my mother.