The Right Choice

Eleanor had changed into a thicker, more comfortable dress, her head freshly bandaged. The fabric felt tight, itchy even, as if it mocked her.

The pain that had felt as if her head would split in two since her fall from the horse had subsided, leaving only a few faint stinging sensations lingering in her mind—an uncomfortable truth she kept hidden deep within herself.

Who would believe that someone who had been so close to death just a week ago was now nearly healed?

She didn't believe it herself.

Now, she reclined on the chaise, her gaze drifting beyond the wide-open window.

For some reason, Eleanor suddenly felt sentimental as she looked up at the pitch-black sky, scattered with only a few stars. She didn't even know whether the constellations were the same as in her real world, considering that the world she now inhabited had been drawn from her younger brother's imagination. It was a world filled with characters whose storylines and destinies he had shaped according to his wishes.

And now, her life also included one of the characters whose storylines and destinies had been crafted by her little brother.

Eleanor yawned softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as the night wind began to stir outside. A gentle, cool breeze slipped through the large open window, tousling her ginger hair and lifting the shawl draped over her shoulders, causing it to flutter and fall onto the cold marble floor a short distance away.

She welcomed the chill.

The soft, dim light in the cream-colored room felt just right for her. Ever since she had woken up as Eleanor Gwendolyn, bright light had unsettled her. She didn't want to be exposed to its harsh glare, as if the light itself was trying to reveal a truth she wasn't ready to face—that she didn't belong here and that this wasn't her body.

But when she noticed the shadow of her feet stretching across the marble floor, Eleanor found an unexpected sense of comfort in it.

Eleanor closed her crimson eyes, comfortably enjoying the rare silence, as the severe headache that had been plaguing her lately had finally stopped.

...

A soft knock, followed by the heavy groan of the oak door, broke the quiet.

Eleanor didn't need to look. She knew those footsteps—firm, precise like each step was measured against some invisible standard.

Alger Gwendolyn. Her second older brother.

But there was another set of steps. Softer, more casual. Someone unfamiliar.

Curiosity tugged at her. She shifted her gaze toward the door just as Alger stepped inside, his sharp blue eyes immediately sweeping the room. His blue eyes flickered toward Eleanor's shawl, still lying on the floor.

Behind him stood a man of similar age, smartly dressed in a black suit. His plain face suggested there was nothing special about him that would explain why he was following Alger Gwendolyn. A black briefcase swung from his right hand, and a monocle glinted in the fading light, perched on his left eye.

Their eyes met.

Eleanor stared at him intently for a few moments, trying to find out if the man was one of the important characters in her little brother's novel.

"..."

The man paused, bowing his head politely, before following Alger deeper into Eleanor's chamber.

"Why is the window open?" Alger's voice sliced through the silence, flat and irritated. His gaze snapped to the maids hovering at the edge of the room.

"Are you trying to give her a fever?"

Eleanor stopped observing the man after confirming he wasn't an important character and shifted her attention to Alger's always flat, curt voice.

Gosh, I hope he doesn't open his mouth just to start nagging, she mused.

But there was warmth in his concern, even if it was buried under his usual bluntness.

Before anyone could respond, Alger strode across the room with his usual confidence, shutting the window with a firm thud.

The sudden absence of the breeze left the room feeling heavier.

"..."

Eleanor felt déjà vu as the atmosphere in her room grew tense and eerie, like a funeral. She was about to say something to break the silence, but Alger did something unexpected after he picked up her shawl that had fallen earlier.

Without a word, he approached her, slipped his arms beneath her, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing more than a feather.

"... Huh?"

"You'll be more comfortable on the bed," he murmured, his tone softer now but leaving no room for argument.

Eleanor was confused but she couldn't afford to react. She simply nodded, allowing him to carry her to the bed, the ridiculous bandages still wrapped around her head like some absurd costume. She settled against the pillows, careful not to wince, though the discomfort was more from the situation than any lingering pain.

The maids had already left, with Tina standing quietly by the outer door of the room, her head bowed as she guarded the entrance, giving the three of them privacy.

Alger took the chair beside her bed, his posture stiff and composed. The man with the monocle followed, seating himself next to Alger with a relaxed ease that contrasted his companion's formality.

"This is Ralph," Alger said, nodding toward the man. "He's my right-hand man. He's been in the capital, gathering information for me while I was in the south."

Information? Eleanor's mind immediately raced.

Ralph gave a polite nod, his expression unreadable. He seemed efficient. The kind of man who could blend into the background yet hear everything.

"I figured you called for me because you needed answers," Alger continued, his gaze steady, piercing. "Ralph can help with that."

Eleanor's rosy lips twitched into a thin smile before she could stop herself.

Oh my, my, my beloved Alger Gwendolyn...! She felt a surprising swell of gratitude.

Alger was nothing if not thorough. Even when she didn't ask for help, he anticipated her needs. There was something oddly comforting about his reliability, though she couldn't help but compare him to Eiser.

Her first oldest brother hadn't even bothered to return home. The difference between them was stark. The thought made her bristle slightly, but she pushed it aside.

Focus! She scolded herself.

This was her chance to gather the information she desperately needed!

But how to ask without tipping her hand? If Alger suspected anything unusual, he'd dig until he found the truth. And Eleanor wasn't ready for that.

"..."

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. How could she frame her questions without sounding suspicious?

Alger seemed to sense her hesitation. His sharp blue eyes softened, just slightly. He leaned forward, his voice lowering.

"Eleanor," he said quietly, "you don't have to hesitate. Whatever you need, just ask. If there's something you can't tell Father or Mother, you can tell me."

Her breath caught. There was no pretense in his voice—just genuine concern. It chipped away at her carefully built walls.

Damn it, Alger, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Do all eldest brothers usually act and talk like this?

Nodding slowly, she decided to take the risk.

"I…" Her voice came out softer than she intended, but it worked. "I wanted to ask about John Burbom, my fiancé."

Ralph's expression didn't change, but Eleanor noticed the slight stiffening in his shoulders. Alger, on the other hand, sighed—deep and resigned—as if this was the last question he expected.

"For a whole week," Eleanor continued, letting her voice tremble just enough, "I haven't heard anything from him. He hasn't visited or sent a letter." The words tasted bitter, but she forced them out, feigning worry.

Alger's lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze unreadable. Eleanor watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

Was something wrong? Had John already fallen too deep into his schemes, aligning with the original plot's betrayal? she thought, starting to get anxious with Alger's silence.

After a long pause, Alger finally spoke.

"He visited," Alger finally said, his tone flat. "The day after you arrived back home."

Eleanor blinked, her mind racing.

"But... I never saw him," she replied, her confusion genuine this time. "I never heard about his visit."

Alger's lips twitched into something resembling a smirk, though it lacked humor. "Because Father and Mother turned him away. They turned everyone away."

"Everyone?" Eleanor echoed, her heart skipping a beat.

Alger nodded. "The nobles were trying to use your accident to get closer to our family. Father and Mother weren't about to let that happen."

"But John isn't just any noble," she pressed, needing to understand. "He's my fiancé and the son of a vassal of this household."

"That didn't matter," Alger said simply. "Even Cecillia Emmeline wasn't allowed to see you."

Eleanor's heart clenched at the mention of Cecillia. She knew from Tina's brief talk that her parents had been busy turning people away.

It was almost laughable, considering the mess Cecillia had made of Eleanor Gwendolyn's life.

"Then…" she murmured, almost to herself, "why was Duke Emmeline allowed?"

Both Alger and Ralph froze.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, before Alger finally sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Duke Emmeline isn't just any noble," Alger replied, his tone resigned. "There's nothing he could gain from visiting you, so Father and Mother had no grounds to refuse him."

Eleanor nodded, though her mind whirred with questions.

No grounds to refuse? That seemed too convenient. But she'd dig into that later. For now, she needed to steer the conversation back to John Burbom.

Turning to Ralph, she asked softly, "Can you find out what he's been up to lately? I'm … worried about him."

Alger glanced at Ralph, who nodded without hesitation. He placed the black briefcase on his lap, snapping it open with a soft click. Inside was a stack of neatly organized papers, each one labeled with meticulous precision.

"We've already gathered information on John Burbom," Ralph said, his voice calm and professional. "As Lady Eleanor's fiancé, he's been one of our primary surveillance targets. His activities have been thoroughly documented."

Eleanor's smile widened, her pale face lighting up with genuine satisfaction.

Perfect.

For the first time since waking in this strange, unfamiliar world, she felt like she had the upper hand.

She watched Alger and Ralph with a newfound appreciation.

I made the right choice by asking Alger.