Chapter 118: In a dream, beyond a dream.

There was no lie in the words she had spoken to Yuran.

She truly believed from the bottom of her heart that if it would spare him hardship, her own petty jealousy didn’t matter at all.

Yet at the same time—it was also true that a faint ember of resentment still smoldered inside her.

“Violet-sama, it’s about time to change out of your uniform.”

“……I know.”

Ever since returning home, Violet had been curled up on the sofa, clutching a cushion tightly to her chest.

When Marlin spoke, she answered in a low, subdued voice.

It wasn’t so much depressed as slightly sulky.

She had forced herself to swallow the feeling earlier, but now it refused to digest properly and left her restless and unsettled.

There was none of her usual tragic heaviness, yet the fact that she was frowning so openly made it clear she was far from cheerful.

“Did something happen?”

“Something did happen, I suppose……”

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

If she had to point fingers, it was her own.

If she had simply said “I don’t want you to” right then, Yuran would undoubtedly have refused.

But she hadn’t wanted to make him do that—so she had nodded with an understanding smile.

She held no regret about that decision.

She truly believed it had been the best choice.

“I’m just…… exasperated with how narrow-minded I am.”

“……You’re brooding over something difficult again, aren’t you.”

Unfair. Enviable. I want that too.

Those feelings had quietly piled up in a corner of her heart.

They were slowly melting away, but it would take time before she could fully accept them.

The crease between her brows suggested the thawing process was still underway.

Perhaps because she had grown so accustomed to being treated harshly by others, Violet tended to be just as harsh—often excessively so—with herself.

And yet she was lenient toward everyone else.

No one could be more convenient to those around her.

If people could push their own guilt onto Violet—someone who always blamed herself—they could avoid facing their own wrongdoing.

That was exactly the kind of environment that had produced her birth mother and this household.

Every time she was spoiled, every time someone was gentle with her, she felt joy—and at the same time, a profound sense of unworthiness.

Call it humility if one liked the sound of the word, but in truth she simply lacked self-compassion.

From Marlin’s perspective, it looked no different from Violet deliberately walking into harm’s way.

The adults who had made her this way carried on without a shred of accountability.

“You seem to be in low spirits, so I’ll bring dinner to your room tonight. If there’s anything in particular you’d like, I can still take requests.”

“In that case…… gratin. The one you made before, with salmon and potatoes…… is that possible?”

“Of course. I always keep the ingredients on hand for Violet-sama’s favorite dishes.”

“Thank you. I’ll change and rest a little, so please wake me when it’s ready.”

“Understood.”

Moving slowly, Violet rose and disappeared into the bedroom.

Deciding the uniform could wait, Marlin first gently reshaped the cushion that Violet’s arms had crumpled, then left the room.

Alone now, Violet did not change immediately.

Instead she sat before the vanity and faced her reflection.

Her gaze was harsher than usual.

Though she knew it was meaningless, she pressed hard against the crease between her brows, trying to smooth it away—but nothing really lifted.

Letting out a sigh that felt oddly detached from herself, she picked up the soft, densely bristled brush and ran it through her hair.

Thanks to Marlin’s care, the strands glided smoothly; the more she brushed, the more lustrous they seemed to become.

She couldn’t help running her fingers through again and again, confirming the texture.

（It smells so nice……）

Even after a full day, the floral scent lingered.

With every slight movement, it tickled her nose—never overpowering, yet unmistakably present.

Someone passing by might not notice.

But if they sat beside her, talked with her, laughed together—they would surely catch it.

Just a short while ago, the person she loved had been that close.

（Did Yuran notice, I wonder?）

The special care had reached all the way to her ends.

A different fragrance from yesterday, hair noticeably glossier, skin more hydrated—had any of it caught his attention, even slightly?

（But I could see him clearly…… while he kept his eyes down……）

In the moment their distance had closed most completely, she had felt the gentle restraint around her wrist.

His lowered lashes cast shadows across golden eyes.

His lips—thinner and drier than she had imagined—had been lighter than expected.

Just the briefest contact with her fingertip.

（——!　A-again, what am I……）

She shook her head frantically, trying to banish the image that had just surfaced.

Not wanting to see how red her face must be, she turned away from the mirror—only to catch sight of her clenched hands in her lap.

The right hand.

The index finger.

The neatly trimmed nail still carried the phantom sensation of that fleeting touch—even though nothing remained there now.

For just an instant.

Yet in that single instant, time had seemed to stop.

Embarrassment, happiness, bewilderment—various emotions boiled together in her heart until she felt dizzy.

This was not the same as the love that had once torn her apart with arrogance and self-strangulation.

She had never known such a fluffy, floating sensation could come from the lightest brush of warmth.

She had never known that a single moment could feel like receiving a lifetime’s worth of happiness.

Still in her uniform, she collapsed face-first onto the bed.

She inhaled the sun-warmed scent of the bedding until her lungs were full, then let it out in a long, heavy exhale.

She didn’t like sleeping on her stomach—it felt suffocating—but today that very pressure felt strangely comforting.

Burying her face in the plush pillow, she dove into a pitch-black world.

In the dream she would forget upon waking—

There was Yuran, smiling beautifully.

Beside him stood a girl.

From far away, Violet watched the two of them.

The girl turned to look at her.

The face was obscured by unnatural backlighting—she couldn’t tell who it was.

Only the softly slackened, happy curve of the mouth left an impression.

It hurt so much she wanted to cry.