Walking along a long corridor, Ilex entered his grandfather’s bedroom for the first time in a long time and looked around the room with a somewhat confused expression on his face.
The former Duke's bedroom was spotlessly clean, without a single speck of dust, but it seemed strangely sparse, almost empty.
But this did not happen because the room lost its owner. Rather, it was explained by the taste of the previous occupant of the room.
The former Duke of Preston did not like to clutter his space with unnecessary furniture. However, the reason why the Essentine mansion was decorated with such extravagant decorations was entirely due to the preferences of his wife, whom he loved so dearly.
Ilex turned his head slightly and looked at the portrait hanging opposite the four-poster bed. In the austere and simple bedroom, only the portrait of the former Duke and Duchess stood out as a real presence.
Was it because they loved their youngest son so much? Or from the unbearable truth about his son’s accident?
After his second son, Kenneth Davenport, died in an unexpected road accident, Agatha, weakened by illness, remained bedridden for a long time before passing away.
After his wife left this world, Preston Davenport acted as if he had been waiting for this moment. He immediately passed on his title to his eldest son and spent the rest of his days living in this mansion.
Unlike typical Acansis noble couples, the former Duke and Duchess are said to have loved each other deeply.
But Ilex had never seen them exchange smiles, looking into each other's eyes, and never seen them walk hand in hand. His grandmother, Agatha Davenport, died before the birth of her second grandson.
Therefore, Ilex remembered not their love for each other, but how his grandfather wandered along the corridors, thoughtfully looking at the portraits of his wife and youngest son.
Perhaps it was because of his melancholy that the mansion was filled with numerous portraits.
Preston always got up early in the morning, despite having no official duties. The first thing he did after waking up was visit the portraits scattered throughout the mansion and talk to them.
“Did you sleep well, Agatha? Did you have good dreams, Kenneth?”
Although the answer never came, his gentle voice, as if addressing the living, still sounded brightly in Ilex’s ears.
With heavy steps, his grandfather wandered through the bedrooms, landings, corridors and living rooms to greet the portraits of his wife and son.
With ashen eyes, the old man silently looked at the young version of himself, smiling without a single wrinkle, standing next to his beloved wife and son.
Although Ilex was small, he understood that in these voices and steps there was a sad melancholy, thick as mud.
His grandmother left this world at a relatively young age. His grandfather endured the rest of his life with unrequited morning greetings.
And so, when Preston finally put an end to this long wait, Ilex looked at his coffin not with sadness in his heart, but with relief.
Now he will finally get an answer. Now he will finally be able to touch the cheeks of the people he missed so much.
Now the grandfather, who had suffered for years, unable to exhaust the love that tormented him, could finally be embraced by those whom he missed so much, proving the sincerity of his love.
Some deaths were not a tragedy, but a blessing. Sorrow belonged only to those left behind. More than the loneliness of being alone, there was relief that his grandfather had finally entered the world of portraits.
After looking for a while at the portrait above the fireplace - the one in which the former Duke and Duchess were holding hands with gentle smiles - Ilex slowly turned and walked towards the desk by the window.
Like the other furnishings in the bedroom, the bureau was elegant and antique. Ilex opened the drawer and took out a small box.
Inside the slightly faded box was a butterfly-shaped ring set with sparkling amethysts.
Long ago, when his grandfather was still wandering around the mansion with measured steps, he personally handed this memorable gift into the hands of his grandson.
Now, after a long time, the ring, seeing the sunlight again, shimmered, as if begging not to be left in the dark, but to be worn and displayed.
Looking at the ring, which scattered bright rays of light in the air, Ilex slowly looked back at the portrait.
- Grandfather.
Gently stroking the smooth surface of the shiny butterfly ring, Ilex muttered, and a slight grumble involuntarily sounded in his voice.
“You never mentioned that the butterfly might hate me.”
Ilex received this ring on a spring day when he was about seven years old.
Unlike the strict main Davenport estate, where stern nannies and maids kept constant watch, the Essentine estate had many places for a child to explore. More precisely, there were many places where the child was allowed to go.
A glass greenhouse filled with beautiful flowers in every season, an attic filled with odds and ends, a backyard full of trees to climb, and a garden with a cool fountain.
Ilex was free to go to all these places without permission. This was something he could never even dream of in the main estate where his father and brother lived.
But that was not all. There was something even more important in Essentine - something that was not in the main house.
A large hand that stroked his hair. A warm presence that embraced him rather than pushing him away. His grandfather.
In truth, the greenhouse and garden were just an excuse. What Ilex really liked was the annex where the old man lived, who praised him for his excellent test results. That's why he came there every day.
However, this day was unusual - grandfather was away. The child, impatiently awaiting his return, played in the fountain, splashing water with his hands.
That's when he noticed it. A beautiful butterfly caught in a web, trying in vain to escape.
- Ilex, what are you doing?
A warm hand lay on Ilex's shoulder. The boy, who was crushing the spider with his boot, turned his head to look at his grandfather.
- I was saving a butterfly.
Hearing this, Preston turned his gaze to the butterfly, which the child was tenderly holding in his small hands. Then his eyes moved down to the crushed black spiders under the boy's shiny shoes.
- Oh, God.
With a soft click of his tongue, Preston spoke again, his tone filled with regret.
- So the spider tried to eat the butterfly.
- Yes.
Ilex's blue-gray eyes sparkled cruelly as he stepped forcefully on the already crushed spiders.
- Dirty spiders must die. They tried to eat a beautiful butterfly.
As if that wasn't enough, he turned his heel, pushing the corpses into the ground. The small but pure cruelty of this act resulted in the legs and heads of the spiders being completely torn off.
Preston, who had been silently watching his grandson's actions, finally spoke, his voice sounding slow and measured.
- But it looks like you killed more than one spider.
- Other spiders may also try to hunt the butterfly. So I found all the spiders nearby and killed them.
Beaming with pride, the boy grinned, showing his teeth. However, Preston did not respond to his grandson's bright smile. Instead, he simply looked at him in deep thought.
- Ilex.
After a long silence, Preston finally spoke, pausing for a moment before continuing.
- You seem to really like butterflies.
- Yes.
- Why do you like them?
- Because they are beautiful. And they have wings.
- So that's why you saved her. What are you going to do now?
Hearing this unexpected question, Ilex tilted his head and looked at his grandfather. After a short moment of thought, the child, as if having found the perfect answer, confidently raised his voice.
- I'll put her in a cage! So that other insects cannot eat it!
- But butterflies also need to eat and rest.
- I'll put a lot of honey and flowers inside. I will make sure she rests comfortably.
- But, Ilex, do you think the butterfly would want this?
As he looked at the butterfly with excitement, the boy frowned as if his grandfather had just ruined his holiday. Preston gently smoothed the crease between his grandson's eyebrows as he spoke again.
- Ilex, love, she’s not like that.
-...Then what is she like?
- It's about letting go. Let go of the butterfly, Ilex. So that she can live freely.
- But if I do this, she might die.
“Then you can keep an eye on her from afar.”
- But if I do this, the butterfly will not know that I am protecting it.
- Oh, Ilex.
Preston chuckled softly, stroking his grandson's pouty cheek.
- What is more important – that the butterfly knows about your feelings or that you love it?
The child did not answer. It was that silence that occurs when you know the right answer, but don't want to accept it. Preston, realizing this, smiled again.
- My dear grandson. You look like Kenneth. I know that you have a kind heart like no other.
Placing his hand on his still pouting grandson's arm, Preston whispered:
- Don't become like your father, Ilex. Don't become like Edmund.
These words, spoken like a spell, softened Ilex's heart.
With a painful sigh, the boy turned away from his grandfather. Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he unclenched his fingers, carefully releasing the butterfly's wings.