Our Summer Is Not Over - vanish into fiction

“I apologize on behalf of my friend, Duchess Rihardt.”

The child who offered a clear, ringing apology looked to be about seven years old.

“I am Clarisse, second daughter of the Ashborn County.”

Her cheeks were full of life, as if she had grown up showered in affection. Her light blue eyes sparkled brightly.

After mimicking the adults and giving a difficult greeting, Clarisse’s eyes shone with pride. The child acted without a hint of timidity, just as Mia herself once had.

Before she realized it, Mia had forgotten even to set down her champagne glass as she watched the children.

“Armand Winchester, hurry up and say hello!”

“I’m not as good at it as you are.”

“I’ll help you, just give it a try.”

Pressed by Clarisse, Armand reluctantly bowed and greeted Mia. As Clarisse watched his greeting, she accidentally bumped a wine glass on the table.

With no time to react, wine spilled onto Mia.

It wasn’t a large amount, but it was enough to stain her white dress a vivid red. The wine slowly spread across the white fabric, reminiscent of the pool of blood she had seen when her parents were killed.

It happened in an instant.

While Mia stood there dazed, unable to react, Clarisse began to apologize over and over, her voice trembling with tears.

“I’m so, so sorry, Madam…!”

The child’s voice shook thinly, and her eyes wavered violently with embarrassment. Armand, too, flustered, followed Clarisse in apologizing.

Normally, Mia would have offered a gentle, kind smile and told them it was alright, but for some reason, those words did not come easily to her today.

It was a hard-hearted feeling.

The fact that something she had come to cherish had been ruined left her feeling unexpectedly sorrowful. Only then did Mia realize she was truly upset.

Sensing the commotion among the children, the hostess of the banquet, Marchioness Perville, and the children’s parents hurried over.

“Oh my, Duchess Rihardt…!”

Marchioness Perville’s voice was quite loud. Regaining her composure, Mia forced a mask-like smile onto her face as she replied. She didn’t want any more attention drawn to her.

“It’s a mistake any child could make. I’m alright.”

“I apologize, Duchess Rihardt. Of course, we’ll compensate for the dress, and we’ll come by later to offer a proper apology.”

Count and Countess Ashborn and Count and Countess Winchester, the children’s parents, bowed deeply to Mia in apology.

“No, it’s alright.”

They realized not only was Mia’s dress extremely valuable, but it was also a gift carrying someone’s feelings, and their faces grew even paler than before.

Marchioness Perville whispered to Mia that she shouldn’t just let this go, but Mia was firm.

“I just don’t want to cause a bigger scene. Marchioness, if it’s not too much trouble, could you call Dylan for me?”

“Do you mean…?”

“I’m sorry, but I think I’ll have to leave for today. I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

She could have easily borrowed a dress, but she was certain that no one here would have one that could fully cover her scars, so she chose to leave instead.

Perhaps misunderstanding Mia’s words, Marchioness Perville was visibly flustered. Noticing the faint resentment in the Marchioness’s gaze toward the children, Mia quickly explained.

“It’s my fault for not bringing a spare dress, unlike usual. Please don’t blame the children.”

Even so, the Marchioness’s expression didn’t improve, so Mia added once more,

“I’d like to be invited to a gathering like this again, if that’s alright?”

“Would it be alright for me to send you another invitation, Madam…?”

“I would be grateful if you did. I’m only sorry to have caused such a disturbance at your perfect party.”

Only after hearing Mia’s answer did the Marchioness seem to recover her spirits.

Turning her head, Mia saw Clarisse clinging to her parents, fat tears rolling down her face.

Countess Ashborn, flustered, comforted her daughter, patting her shoulder. Seeing the affectionate mother and daughter, Mia felt a lump rise in her throat.

A mother standing firmly by her child, cleaning up after what had happened.

She envied the seven-year-old girl.