The visit to the Ashford estate marked a turning point in my relationship with Isabella. Although our families had solidified the political alliance, our personal connection was still fragile, like a sapling that had just taken root. I knew that if I wanted to steer our lives away from the tragic paths laid out in the game, I had to nurture this budding friendship carefully.
A few weeks after the visit, an invitation arrived from the Ashfords. Isabella had expressed a desire to spend more time with me, and her parents, ever the tacticians, were eager to oblige. They suggested that I spend a few days at their estate, a gesture that was as much about furthering our acquaintance as it was about reinforcing the alliance between our families.
The prospect of spending several days in the intimidating Ashford estate, under the watchful eyes of Isabella's stern parents, was daunting. However, it was also an opportunity—an opportunity to deepen the bond between Isabella and me, to understand her better, and to prevent the villainess she was destined to become.
Upon my arrival, the Ashfords were as formal as ever. Baron Ashford greeted me with his usual stiff courtesy, and Lady Ashford's icy demeanor made it clear that she would tolerate no missteps. But Isabella seemed genuinely pleased to see me, which was enough to steady my nerves.
"Welcome back, Leonhardt," Isabella said as she greeted me in the grand foyer, her voice soft but sincere.
"Thank you, Isabella," I replied, offering her a small smile. "I'm looking forward to spending time with you."
The first day passed in a series of carefully orchestrated activities—meals that were more formal than necessary, a tour of the estate's extensive library, and polite conversation over tea. It was clear that the Ashfords were determined to ensure that every moment was proper and respectable, leaving little room for genuine interaction. Isabella remained poised and polite, but I could sense a tension in her that mirrored my own.
That evening, after another formal dinner, Isabella and I found ourselves alone in one of the estate's many sitting rooms. The room was richly decorated, with heavy drapes and plush furniture, but the atmosphere felt stifling, as if the weight of centuries of tradition pressed down on us.
"Is it always this… formal here?" I asked, trying to keep the tone light.
Isabella looked at me, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Yes, it is. My parents believe that maintaining decorum is essential for a noble family."
"I see," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "It must be exhausting."
She hesitated, then nodded slightly. "It can be. But it's what's expected of us."
There was a sadness in her tone that tugged at something inside me. Isabella was playing the role she had been born into, just as I was, but I could tell that she longed for something more—something real. I realized then that if I wanted to change her fate, I needed to show her that it was possible to be both noble and human.
"I've been thinking," I began, choosing my words carefully, "about the future, and about what it means to be a noble. I think there's more to it than just following the rules and maintaining appearances. Don't you?"
Isabella studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, what if we could be different? What if we could find a way to honor our families while still being true to ourselves?" I paused, watching her closely. "What if we could be friends, real friends, without worrying so much about what's expected of us?"
She blinked, clearly taken aback by my words. "Friends?"
"Yes, friends," I repeated, feeling a small surge of confidence. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, after all. It would be nice if we could enjoy that time, don't you think?"
For a long moment, Isabella didn't say anything. I wondered if I had gone too far, if I had misunderstood her feelings. But then, slowly, she nodded.
"I would like that, Leonhardt," she said quietly. "I would like to be your friend."
The tension in the room seemed to ease, replaced by a tentative sense of relief. It was a small victory, but a meaningful one. We were still bound by the expectations of our families, but in that moment, we had taken a step toward something more genuine.
The next day, the atmosphere between us was noticeably different. Isabella seemed more at ease, and while we still followed the formal schedule set by her parents, there was a new warmth in our interactions. We spent the morning in the gardens, where the carefully cultivated flowers seemed to mirror the delicate growth of our friendship.
As we walked along the garden paths, Isabella surprised me by asking, "Do you really enjoy cooking, Leonhardt?"
The question was unexpected, but I welcomed it. "I do," I replied, smiling. "It's one of the few things I can do where I feel like I'm in control, where I can create something with my own hands."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I've always been curious about it, but I've never had the opportunity to learn. My mother says it's not proper for someone of my status."
"Well, what if we tried it together?" I suggested, a spark of inspiration hitting me. "We could cook something simple, just for ourselves. It doesn't have to be anything grand."
Isabella looked at me, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Do you really think we could?"
"Why not?" I replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. "It'll be our little secret."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, a small but genuine smile spreading across her face. "Alright. Let's do it."
That afternoon, we sneaked into the kitchen, trying our best to avoid the watchful eyes of the servants. The kitchen staff, clearly startled by our presence, initially tried to usher us out, but a firm yet polite insistence from Isabella convinced them to let us stay.
We decided to make something simple—a batch of cookies. I guided Isabella through the process, showing her how to mix the dough, add the ingredients, and shape the cookies. She was surprisingly enthusiastic, her usual reserved demeanor melting away as she focused on the task at hand.
"This is… actually quite fun," Isabella admitted as she placed the last tray of cookies in the oven.
"I told you it would be," I replied with a grin. "Cooking isn't just about making food. It's about creating something from scratch, something that you can share with others."
She looked at me, a soft expression in her eyes. "Thank you, Leonhardt. I've never done anything like this before."
"Neither have I," I admitted. "But I'm glad we did it together."
When the cookies were ready, we sat down to enjoy our handiwork. The cookies were far from perfect—some were slightly burnt, others were oddly shaped—but they were ours, and that made them special. As we ate, I felt a sense of contentment that I hadn't expected. This was more than just a simple activity; it was a step toward building a real connection with Isabella, one that could withstand the challenges ahead.
As the days passed, our friendship continued to grow. We spent more time together, finding ways to break through the stiff formality that surrounded us. Whether it was through cooking, reading, or simply talking, each interaction brought us closer, and I could see the change in Isabella. She was beginning to open up, to trust me, and to show a side of herself that was rarely seen.
On the final day of my visit, as I prepared to return to the Blackwell manor, Isabella walked me to the carriage. The formality of our first meeting had been replaced by a genuine warmth, and as we stood together, I felt a sense of hope that hadn't been there before.
"Thank you for spending time with me, Leonhardt," Isabella said, her voice soft but sincere. "I've never had a friend like you before."
"Neither have I," I replied, smiling. "But I'm glad we found each other."
She nodded, her eyes shining with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "I'll look forward to our next meeting."
"As will I," I said, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the weather.
As the carriage pulled away from the Ashford estate, I looked back at Isabella, who waved as I departed. The road ahead was still uncertain, and there were many challenges yet to face, but for the first time, I felt like I had made real progress. The friendship we were building was more than just a way to change our fates—it was something that brought genuine joy to both of us.
And perhaps, in the end, that was the most important thing of all.