Obsessed with Regressors

“Oh my God, that guy caught a dragon.”

Two days after the palace ball, her mother and she were sitting side by side on the couch, reading the newspaper. They were reading the same newspaper and sitting side by side, so naturally they were looking at the same page.

So her mother’s words were not directed at her, but at her brother, Oliver.

Oliver was leaning lazily on the couch across from them, reading the same newspaper as them. Currant’s whisper. Simply put, gossip.

The newspaper, the second-highest selling newspaper in the capital of Balsian, after the Balxian Daily, was so popular that everyone who could subscribe to the newspaper, as well as the aristocracy, subscribed to a copy.

But why were there several copies in the house? Because Oliver had to read it at the same time as them.

Of course, Oliver seems to say that one part belonged to their mother and the other belongs to him.

“Where? Ah, I found it. Huh.”

At his mother’s words, Oliver flipped through a few newspapers and found the page she was reading. I asked, waiting until he finished reading the article.

“Is that skillful?”

“What? Oh, Burns’ swordsmanship skills?”

She didn’t have a subject, but Oliver understood right away what she was saying. He said, slowly stroking his chin.

“It was pretty good. By the time I graduated, he was the winner.”

“He was the winner by the time you graduated? Could it be, that savage is from the Academy?”

Her mother, who had been engrossed in the newspaper for a while, was surprised by Oliver’s words. Oh dear. she immediately knew what her mother was going to say.

One didn’t have to be a prophet to know that. Her mother turned her head to her as soon as Oliver agreed.

“Look at that, Eugenie. It’s the academy that these savages go to. That’s why I didn’t send you there.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied roughly as she turned her head back to Oliver. Originally created by commoners to acquire knowledge, the Balsian Academy also began to be popular with the aristocracy.

That was because wealthy commoners have been inviting intellectuals at great expense, and the level of education at Balsian Academy had increased. Thanks to that, several positive things had happened. The aristocracy’s socializing age and age of marriage had increased.

Oh, and of course, some people saw that as a disadvantage. So not the former, but the latter. Although it seems that sometimes the former was also cited as a disadvantage.

The nobles were too friendly with commoners.

Now, most of the nobles sent their children to the Balsian Academy, but very occasionally they did not send them to the academy but left them to tutors. Just like her.

“Do you think he handled the sword well?”

She asked Oliver again. In her dream, Burns easily defeated the servants who stopped him. The servants almost looked like leaves blown in the wind.

But that was her dream. Wasn’t that what dreams were supposed to be? It’s exaggerated more than necessary.

She was praying that Oliver would say that it wasn’t. Even though she heard that he was the winner of an Academy swordsmanship match.

“Well, it’s not that he handled the sword well…”

Oliver paused as he picked out words for a moment. She was a little relieved. She didn’t think it’s handled well. So her dream was just an exaggerated dream.

But the next moment, Oliver patted his chin and said:

“I think it’s more correct to say that there wasn’t a weapon he couldn’t handle.”

Holy. Her expectations were dashed. She didn’t think her dream was a real premonition or anything like that since foreshadowing was ridiculous. For one thing, she didn’t believe in foreknowledge or prophecy. But what could she say about Elliot Burns?

Maybe, maybe, the appearance was different. She started an attempt to revive the flames with smoke from the extinguished candle. There were quite a few people who looked alike. Maybe the Elliot Burns in her dream and the Elliot Burns she saw two days ago felt similar simply because their eyes were similar.

“Miss.”

Just as she was barely calming down, the butler came in. Her gaze naturally turned to the little box he was holding. And the gaze of his mother and Oliver did the same.

It was her mother who got up first.

“Oh my gosh, Lord Rencid must have sent you a present.”

Awnings? She remembered her fiancé, whom she had forgotten. Not. Strangely, she had a hunch that the package held by Butler Biggs was not from Awning.

“Who sent it?”

Funnily enough, her voice trembled slightly, very slightly. She felt ominous. That’s not the way Awnings act. After all, Awnings never sent her gifts for no reason.

“It was sent by a man named Elliot Burns.”

Biggs’ voice was like thunder echoing through the dry sky. It was the same in that her heart was jumping.

“Burns? He sent Eugenie a gift?”

Her mother was also a little surprised. She sat stiffly, looking at Biggs with only her eyes. He looked at her, asking what to do with the parcel he was holding.

What’s in there? The box was thin. Was there anything that could fit in there? She didn’t know what to do, and Oliver, who had been watching, stepped in and said:

“Do Miss know him?”

“No way!”

Her mother’s answer popped out before she could speak. She shook my head and was forced to accept the parcel from Biggs.

What the hell? The small box was as light as it was in size. As she hesitated to open it, Oliver said.

“Tear it off.”

When urged, she couldn’t help but tear it open. She didn’t like it, but she opened the box in front of her mother and Oliver.

“Handkerchief?”

What was inside was a handkerchief. Of course it wasn’t hers. But her name was embroidered in one corner. As she stared at the handkerchief with a frown, Oliver asked.

“Isn’t that the handkerchief you lent me last time?”

“Nope.”

This was a much more expensive handkerchief. The handkerchiefs one took to the ball were usually the most luxurious items one had.

The handkerchief Burns sent was much better than that. Not only were the edges decorated with lace, but… She looked down at the ornately embroidered handkerchief. Then the mother, who couldn’t wait, reached out and picked up the handkerchief.

“That’s very good.”

It’s probably the most luxurious handkerchief she could get as a gift. As she unfolded her handkerchief to see the full embroidery, a small card fluttered from inside.

“What is it?”

That time, Oliver showed interest. He picked up the card that had fallen to the floor faster than I did and whistled softly.

That attitude, she didn’t like it.

“Oliver.”

Sure enough, their mother pointed to him and checked the card he was holding. She said with admiration.

“He doesn’t seem to be as savage as he looks.”

What the hell was it written that they both do that? She took the card from Oliver and checked the contents. It said in elegant letters that the handkerchief he had lent me was an apology for the dirtiness and that he would return it as a new one, even though it lacked the kindness she had bestowed.

Yes.

She remembered her mother’s comment that he didn’t seem to be as savage as they thought. That was a card that could at least be played by someone with an education like a nobleman. So was the content as well as the handwriting.

After all, it was just a nightmare. It’s not something grandiose like prophecy or foreknowledge.

After a few days of being on the floor, her pulse loosened and she lost her energy. She left the handkerchief in her mother’s hand and slipped out of the family room with only the card in her hand.

It’s still morning, but she thought she needed to lie down a bit.

“Are you not feeling good, my lady?”

As she entered her room, Ann followed a moment later and asked: she sat down in a chaise longue by the window and held out a card to Ann.

“I’m going to lie down a bit. Keep this away.”

At her request, Ann accepted the card and pulled a small box out of her arms.

She was seeing a lot of boxes that day. Just as she thought so, Anne said excitedly.

“Someone told me to give this to the lady earlier.”

“Who?”

It’s not that she saw a lot of boxes, but she thought she was getting a lot of gifts that day. Anne put the box in her hand and asked if she knew.

“Who could it be? It must be from Lord Rencid!”

Again, she thought, it couldn’t be. If it was from Awning, he would have sent the gift more loudly. Not only for her mother and brother to know, but also in social circles.

He always was like that. She has only received gifts three times, all of which were small in Currant’s whisper.

“From Awning?”

Thinking that it wasn’t possible, she tilted her head and unpacked the box. Unlike the thin box earlier, this one was small enough to fit in her hand.

When she unpacked it, she saw a black case inside. No matter how she looked at it, it looked like a ring case.

“Oh my God, Lord Rencid must have sent the ring.”

Listening to Anne excitedly, she cast her gaze through the ring on my left ring finger. She already had an engagement ring. Could it be that he was already giving me a wedding ring?

She quickly realized that it couldn’t be. Awnings wasn’t that passionate. Besides, the ring was held by Viscountess Rencid.

Carefully opening the case, the ring inside revealed. Naturally, it wasn’t the wedding ring that Ann and her expected. As she lifted the ring with a frown, Ann tilted her head and asked strangely.

“It’s a bit clunky.”

Clunky was just right. The ring inside the case looked like a man’s ring dragon. Not only in size, but also in design. It’s a design she had seen a lot of times.

She held a slightly larger ring on her thumb as well and began to ponder where she had seen a ring like that. The ring had an emblem on it.

That emblem…

“Signet ring?”

She was so startled that she jumped up and shouted: Ann, who was watching closely, looked at her asking what it was, but she couldn’t answer.

A signet ring was literally a ring with a signet on it. And not any particular signet but the family seal. In other words, only the head of the family could have it.

“Who, who sent it?”

“What kind of man…? I was bringed by an errand boy.”

“You didn’t see who sent it?”

She tried to stay calm for the frightened Ann. But it’s a signet ring. What kind of crazy guy would send something like this to someone else?

Frightened, Ann said cautiously.

“There was no word from anyone. Naturally, I thought it was sent by Lord Rencid. If it’s the name of the person you brought…”

Ann paused, and her face turned as white as a blank sheet. Why? She looked at Ann nervously.

After a moment, she whispered, taking a deep breath.

“Sin, I’m sorry, my lady. I guess it wasn’t the name of an errand boy. It must have been the sender’s name.”

“What was it?”

She urged, and Anne hesitated again. Strangely, at that moment, she remembered the face of a man that often popped into her mind these days.

“Bur… Burns.”