“That looks good.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, I don’t think I can teach you anything more.”

It had been about a month since arriving in the East.

I thought I would stay for long, but time flew by quickly in the joy of learning that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I remembered the day I first visited Viola a month ago.

I went in blindly, bowing my head and expressing my desire to learn from her.

I had to revive my family somehow.
So I bowed my head and asked.

Surprisingly, she agreed.

However, there was a condition: Viola wouldn’t accept any compensation.

It was strange, but I was grateful nonetheless.

And so, a month of training followed.

I spent a busy month reading books and exploring new knowledge.

At first, I spent sleepless nights thinking about Ania, but soon, that longing was replaced with determination.

I can assert that I’ve never lived so diligently before in my life.

I learned and kept on learning.

Viola was amazed by my ability to pick things up quickly.

“I tell you one thing, but you learn ten.”

Of course, that was because I possessed modern knowledge.

It’s natural for people in this era not to grasp the existence of steam engines no matter how much you explain them, so it takes time to learn.

However, in my case, since I already knew about steam engines, learning was easy once I understood the principles.

Thanks to that, I learned how far the technology of this world can be implemented.

I felt fortunate.

I would have been at a loss if I had been a complete stranger to such technology before coming to this fictional world.

Thinking like that, it felt as if the traces of my life so far had felt like destiny.

Ania Brontë.

Was my entire existence for the sake of loving her?

It was a leap of logic, but human hearts are inherently illogical, so every moment trembled with uncertainty.

And so, eventually, I understood what could be achieved with the technology of this world.

Firstly, the printing press…

Books in this world were costly as they had to be written one by one by hand.

However, if I could create printing technology, books could be distributed to the general public.

And the other thing was the internal combustion engine.

Since this world also has resources like coal or oil, developing an internal combustion engine and creating means of transportation would bring in a lot of money.

“Well then… I’ll take my leave now. Thank you for everything so far.”
“You’ve worked hard.”

A month passed, and I decided to return to the estate.

Every moment had to be spent wisely.
So the day to meet Ania again could be a little closer.

As I turned to leave, Viola called out to me.

“Edward.”
“Yes?”
“…It’s nothing. Thank you for everything. Whenever you need me, come find me.”
“Yes. I’ll come see you when I can.”

After bowing, I headed towards the platform to catch the train.

I will be able to return soon.

I didn’t know how long it would take.

But to keep my promise…

***

“Edward…”

Watching the departing man, Viola Brontë smiled softly.

At first, she had doubts, but he was undoubtedly the Edward he knew.

The eldest son of the Radner family.

The boy who had been her daughter’s only friend in childhood.

“You’ve grown splendidly.”

He had clearly mentioned wanting to learn technology to meet the woman he loves.

Who that woman was… even without saying it, Viola knew.

The person that child had in his heart was undoubtedly Ania.

“Come to think of it… I wonder how Ania is living.”

She always missed her, but after she abandoned her duties as a mother when she left for the East, it was difficult to inquire about her news easily.

Perhaps she had already forgotten.

A mother who left their children behind in their childhood…

Viola Brontë gazed at the sky with a bitter smile.

“Make my child happy, Edward.”

The man who was once a young boy, who was now an admirable man attempting what she could not do, Viola Brontë decided to believe in him.

***

It had already been a month since Ania Brontë was brought to the Brontë mansion.

‘Divorce Edward.’

Locked in her room under strict surveillance, Ania recalled the words her father, Valentine Brontë, had said a month ago.

‘I can’t do that.’
‘But you must. Ania, you know well enough what impact a marriage with the Radner family will have on our own.’
‘It doesn’t matter to me.’
‘But it matters to the family.”

Valentine had always been a father who would listen to anything she said.
That’s why her father’s firmness felt even colder.

‘If it was a smaller matter, I could have handled it from my end. But Ania… Be rational. You’re not a child anymore. If you don’t break off the marriage with Edward, imagine the gossip in society.’
‘I don’t care!’
‘I understand your feelings perfectly well, but… I can’t allow a marriage that would harm you.’

And so, two weeks later, Valentine Brontë sent a formal announcement to other noble families stating that Ania Brontë and Edward Radner had officially broken off their marriage.

Of course, Edward was completely unaware, but his agreement was unnecessary.

If the Brontë family said so, then it happened.
Being the closest confidant of the emperor, there was no doubt that their word carried significant weight.

Thus, Ania and Edward officially became estranged.

Though Ania’s will had no say in the matter, it posed no problem.

Official correspondence from a noble family held that much power.

A month and a week after returning to the Brontë family, Valentine Brontë came to see Ania.

“Ania, marry him.”

Valentine Brontë was adamant.

The man he brought as a prospective husband for Ania was the second son of the Earl of Redbury.

Ania knew the man well.

He was the vice-captain of the esteemed Redbury Knights, known for his good reputation in society. But Ania knew how debauched and arrogant he was.

Ania still vividly remembered how persistently she had to reject his filthy and vulgar advances.

‘I don’t want to.’
‘Even if you don’t want to, it can’t be helped.’
‘I’d rather die.’
‘Ania!’

That day, Ania was slapped by her father for the first time in her life.

With eyes startled by the stinging sensation on her cheek, she looked at her father, and Valentine Brontë looked back at her with an even more surprised expression.

“Oh… I’m sorry, Ania.”

As he tenderly stroked her cheek with his surprised hand, Ania felt more hurt by the fact that her father had ruined her life than by the slap itself.

But eventually, the engagement proceeded.

Ania was forcibly dragged like a captured cow into the slaughterhouse to hold the engagement ceremony.

“This is how it ends up after all.”

Ania glared at the second son of the Redbury family with venomous eyes. He looked at her with sticky, filthy eyes.

“You may hate me now, but someday you will love me, Ania Brontë.”
“There’s no way that will ever happen.”
“You’ll see.”

Ania was consumed with the urge to slice that man’s disgusting face with a knife right then and there.

After all, the public called Ania a witch.

A villainess who lured men to their deaths. What if no one listened to her excuses, and she truly became a villainess?

But Ania didn’t dare to do so.

The more she thought about it, the farther she felt from Edward.

Yet, as time passed with enduring patience, could she ever meet Edward again someday?

Ania knew how difficult it was for the fallen Radner family to regain their former honor and wealth.

Yet, she still believed.

She believed that someday Edward could accomplish it.

However, she must marry another.

It felt like even the smallest hope was being trampled upon.

On the way back to the mansion after the engagement ceremony, Ania saw a patch of goldenglows blooming near the mansion.

Could she stand tall like those flowers that never wilt?

She missed Edward.

She wanted to run to him and see him immediately.

So, as soon as she returned to the mansion, Ania wrote a letter and sent it to the Radner family.

She had promised not to leave until he returned…

However, the letter Ania sent never reached the Radner family.

A directive had been sent to the post office instructing them to intercept all mail from the Brontë family.

Ania was unaware of this fact.

So she could only endlessly wait for the letter that never returned.