Maylily - Chapter 117

“The ball is a little big for Dylan to hold. As for the doll… it’s probably because the texture isn’t familiar to him.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

The Count of Everscourt murmured briefly and stroked his chin.

“Then I suppose I should place my hopes on this one.”

With that, he placed the rattle in Dylan’s hand. The rattle shook and produced a clear sound. Looking at the child whose eyes sparkled with curiosity, the Count spoke with a faint trace of laughter in his voice.

“Do you like this? It’s called a rattle, Dylan.”

“Aah, ah.”

“Yes, a rattle.”

“Aba, aah.”

Dylan shook the rattle vigorously and burst into laughter. The Count, with his glove removed, held the hand gripping the rattle and also stroked the child’s chubby cheek. Whenever their eyes met, he let out a low laugh.

Watching the scene from the side, Maylily felt her heart tighten and her eyes grow hot. It wasn’t because she feared the child would be taken away.

Until now, she believed she could raise Dylan perfectly well on her own….

Yet perhaps there were things she could never completely provide for the child with her strength alone. Maylily herself knew better than anyone that the empty place of a parent could never be completely erased in any way. Watching Dylan, who followed the Count so readily, that doubt became even clearer.

Maylily remembered the time she met Victor Heywood. The end with him was certainly like a nightmare. However, during the period when she believed he was giving her sincerity and affection, she felt both joy and excitement despite her bewilderment at the sudden appearance of a father. And if he truly had been a good father, Maylily’s life would have been filled with far more happiness.

So, separating the Count from the child without thinking couldn’t be the best choice for the child. Yet if she had to feel this suffocating emotion every time she saw Dylan and the Count together, that would be somewhat painful.

She tried to live while forgetting all her memories with the Count. But this way, she was only stacking new memories on top of the ones she needed to forget.

Maylily wished the Count would turn out to be a bad father like her own father, yet at the same time hoped he would become a good father who would never cause even the smallest wound to the child. She wished he would remain beside Dylan forever, yet at the same time prayed he would disappear from their sight right now.

It was when Maylily was struggling in confusion over how she should accept the Count as Dylan’s father.

“It’s a relief that Dylan likes at least one of them.”

The Count, still smiling at the child, turned to Maylily. His face looked so much like the child she loved that her heart ached. Moisture instantly gathered in the corners of Maylily’s eyes.

“Maylily?”

The Count’s eyes widened slightly at the sight, and he straightened his posture to examine her expression.

“Did I do something wrong?”

His voice asking the question was so gentle it almost made her dizzy. Maylily shook her head with her face turned slightly aside.

“It’s nothing… I need to prepare dinner, so I’d like you to leave now.”

The Count quietly looked at Maylily, whose face suddenly seemed close to tears, and spoke in a calm voice, “I’ll say it again. I won’t take Dylan away without your permission. So don’t worry about anything.”

Maylily felt as if her throat were tightly blocked and only nodded. The Count took a handkerchief from his pocket and reached a hand toward her face, then hesitated. Soon, he lowered his hand, pressed the handkerchief into Maylily’s hand, and turned toward Giovanna.

[I’ll take my leave now.]

[Very well. I’m planning to make vegetable soup and fried sardines for dinner. If you like, please stop by.]

[I will.]

Maylily deliberately did not look at the Count’s back as he left the dining hall after putting his gloves back on. Tightening her trembling lips, she turned her gaze toward Dylan.

“Ama, ah, ah, aah.”

When their eyes met, the child stretched the rattle forward as if proudly showing it and made a sound. The sight of him smiling brightly without knowing anything somehow made her heart ache, so Maylily pulled the child into her arms.

“Did you like the rattle that much, Dylan?”

“Uung.”

“Mom will buy you another one that makes a different sound.”

“Ama, chu-u, aah.”

Dylan shook the rattle as if answering and gently stroked Maylily’s cheek with his other hand. As if offering comfort. Maylily kissed that small hand and forced herself to smile.

***

The restaurant hall had just opened for the evening and a few customers were seated here and there. When Maylily, who had come to work for the performance, stepped inside, the manager who was guiding a guest to a seat quietly approached and whispered to her.

[It seems you already have an admirer today. Congratulations.]

Maylily, who was heading toward the staff lounge used as a waiting area before the performance, turned back to him with a puzzled tilt of her head.

[An admirer…?]

[Go take a look in the lounge. You’ll understand right away what I mean.]

Leaving the manager with a meaningful smile behind, Maylily entered the lounge. A large flower basket placed on a stool in front of the cabinets immediately caught her eye.

To Bredova’s brightest star

A white card nestled among densely packed red roses. It was a message from the Count of Everscourt. A faint crease formed between Maylily’s brows as she quietly looked down at it.

Was it because I accepted the lily of the valley yesterday?

Perhaps the Count mistakenly believed Maylily liked flower gifts. This morning, while she was cleaning the yard, he left a bouquet of peonies on the windowsill of her bedroom.

How cunning, leaving it when no one was there so she couldn’t refuse.

She didn’t want to visit his room just to return it. So she threw it into the trash bin beside the inn entrance. Yet only half a day passed before another bouquet arrived.

This time, I’ll return the flowers and clearly tell him I refuse. I don’t want to keep throwing away flowers that have done nothing wrong.

Resolving firmly, Maylily set the basket with the card aside. Then she began preparing for the performance that would start shortly.

By the time the sky outside the windows had completely darkened, the restaurant hall was crowded with guests out to enjoy their weekend evening.

Behind the waiters moving busily with trays carrying dishes and wine, the lights of the small stage set up in one corner of the restaurant began to turn on one by one. When Maylily appeared with the piano accompanist and stepped onto the stage, applause and cheers burst out as if they had been waiting for her.

Today marked the third week since Maylily began performing here every weekend evening. The performance, which received high praise from the guests on the very first day, quickly spread by word of mouth and became famous. As a result, more and more guests came to the restaurant each week, and tonight it was so crowded there was hardly room to step.

Maylily, who gathered the wide skirt of her dress and bent her knees in greeting, lifted her face, slightly flushed, and slowly met the eyes of the guests seated at the front tables one by one.

[Hello. My name is Maylily Aile, and I’ll be performing tonight. I’m very happy to be able to sing for you on your precious weekend evening. The title of the first song is <Old Spring>. I hope you enjoy it.]

Unlike city restaurants where singers appear silently like part of the background, finish their songs, and leave, performances here took place in a format that engaged the audience more directly.

Standing before unfamiliar people and introducing herself always made her nervous, but it was an effective way to draw everyone’s attention to the stage. That was why Maylily always felt a flutter of excitement at this moment.

<Old Spring> is a song in which the narrator longs for the spring of the hometown they left behind, and it was well received by the restaurant guests, most of whom were outsiders. To evoke even deeper sympathy from them, Maylily put in the effort to adapt the song, originally written in the Riverton language, into the Cartia language.

When the accompanist seated at the piano began the prelude, even the faint noise drifting through the hall disappeared. Taking a shallow, short breath to steady herself, Maylily slowly closed and opened her eyes. As if sinking into distant memories.

[Beneath the apple tree blooming with pink flowers

Mother dozes while sewing.]

By the time the song passed the second verse, people had all set down their utensils and listened to the singing. Even the waiters forgot their duties for a moment and stood in a row against the wall watching the stage.