Episode 7
Demius nodded.
“That child cannot speak.”
Silene.
The name meant “silence” in an old language that few remembered today.
From a child who could neither speak nor write, no information about Ascelion could be obtained.
A bitter curve formed on Demius’ lips.
“While the rest of the family avoided the child, I decided to accept them. I thought that, if my brother ever returned, we might be able to know who this child truly was…”
A piece of his brother.
Even a tiny resemblance would have been enough to cling to—the trace of his brother’s existence.
Though the child’s presence was faint enough to forget when turning away, and for some reason Natalian disliked the child, Demius had ultimately embraced them.
However.
“My brother did not return.”
Demius’ expression fell into a void of indifference.
After a brief silence, his lips moved again.
“Still, I will find them.”
Even if this family abandoned his brother, he would not.
He alone would.
‘Stop doing pointless things, Demius.’
‘Ascelion is dead.’
His mother’s voice, still vivid in his memory, made Demius close his eyes tightly.
That was why he had left the family.
A mother who gave up on her eldest son, and a younger son who had left early in disgust at her.
Between them, there was no one left to search for his brother but him.
So he left.
Whenever he heard news of someone resembling Ascelion, he went personally to confirm it.
He crossed rivers and plains, and climbed several notoriously treacherous mountains.
Eventually, while trying to cross the highest, most dangerous peak, he had an accident and fell off a cliff…
Demius slowly opened his closed eyelids. One figure came fully into view.
Eyes the pale green of newly sprouted leaves. Skin so translucent it seemed almost wet, cheeks lightly flushed.
Soft, pink, tender lips.
Thump.
Was she exactly like this when they first met?
…Ah.
He realized anew that the one who had turned his path toward the end back to the beginning, the one more brilliant than the sun, was here—alone with him.
In his room.
“…You must be tired.”
Suddenly feeling a burning thirst, Demius quickly averted his gaze.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa. Please rest comfortably on the bed.”
He quickly turned toward the window sofa, trying to hide his reddened face.
No, wait.
Demius suddenly remembered something and hastily added:
“I’ll sleep in another room. I can return before the servants wake in the morning.”
“I’m fine.”
But Melissa answered lightly.
“We’ve slept together before, haven’t we?”
That’s true, but…
Demius swallowed the words that had almost slipped out and struggled inwardly.
Calling it “sleeping together” would be misleading.
When he had fallen from the cliff, Melissa had stayed by his side day and night, nursing him while he was on the brink of death.
Describing the brief moments she closed her eyes beside him as “sleeping together” felt… unfair.
‘Does it feel like a slight?’
A bitter tang spread in his mouth.
That Melissa could say such a thing so casually meant she didn’t perceive him as her husband in the slightest.
‘Though there was a reason for it.’
Demius hid a bitter smile in the shadows.
In truth, when he had just regained consciousness, he had nearly killed Melissa once.
Even considering his heightened vigilance, that was an unforgivable act.
Though he felt immense guilt for that, now…
“…May I?”
The man’s lips parted slightly, conflicted.
“May I stay on the sofa?”
The hesitantly asked question was the minimum act of conscience.
Though his full conscience urged him to leave, another voice whispered seductively in his ear:
‘What if someone finds Melissa alone in the room?’
The tempting voice teased:
‘Wouldn’t they misunderstand that she’s… been taken advantage of?’
…Damn.
Demius surrendered to desire.
Yet not entirely.
“I won’t go near the bed.”
He muttered to himself as a vow.
Clinging to the edge of conscience, he chose the spot farthest from the bed: the sofa.
Yet it might not truly be conscience.
Perhaps it was the last barrier to hide his dark desires.
If Melissa discovered it, she might recoil and flee.
Otherwise, she might leave before the one-year contract ended.
‘No.’
The thought of such a situation made him choke, his heart constrict.
Troublesome.
Extremely troublesome.
“I’m fine!”
Melissa, seemingly unaware of his turmoil, smiled brightly as usual.
Her radiant cheer brought him guilt.
‘I’m sorry.’
Swallowing the apology down his throat, Demius slowly lay on the sofa.
He hoped the moonlight would obscure Melissa as she approached the bed, but it only made her clearer.
His bride, without even a proper wedding, lay on his bed, covered by his blanket, and smiled at him.
“Good night.”
“…Good night to you too.”
A faint smile curved Demius’ lips.
A proper wedding could never happen.
A fleeting melancholy passed across his slightly folded eyes.
He had once dreamed of the most magnificent wedding.
A dress crafted by the finest artisans, rare and precious jewels, anything he could offer…
‘That would have been selfish.’
He prayed that the path ahead for the one leaving this hell in a year would be peaceful.
Demius shifted slightly and sighed inwardly.
It seemed tonight would not be a night for sleep.
“Good morning.”
When he woke in the morning, Demius was already neatly dressed.
Yet despite his immaculate appearance, the skin around his eyes looked dark and hollow.
I frowned and asked:
“Did you not sleep—?”
“I have urgent business, so I must leave first. Breakfast has been brought to the room; be sure to eat it.”
“Ah, um…”
Before I could finish, Demius had already left the room.
He must really be busy.
After all, a monster appeared yesterday, and returning home after a long time meant he had much to do.
‘And yet he even prepared my breakfast… he’s so kind.’
I placed a hand over my chest, silently thanking him, then tidied the bedding I had slept in and opened the wardrobe.
“…Huh?”
I blinked in surprise. My clothes were gone.
‘Where did they go?’
Demius had said my clothes were definitely in this wardrobe.
So why couldn’t I see the outfit I wore yesterday?
“This is strange…”
There’s no way Demius would lie.
As I tilted my head, someone knocked on the door, and a small voice spoke:
“Breakfast has arrived.”
“Ah, yes!”
I hurried to open the door.
A young servant in a white apron stood holding a trolley, looking startled.
The servant stared at me with wide eyes, then suddenly bowed deeply and said in a trembling voice:
“Th-thank you for opening the door. B-but next time, you don’t need to open it.”
“But you have luggage, don’t you?”
“?!”
A large question mark seemed to pop above the servant’s head.
Then their expression suddenly shifted to one on the verge of tears.
I was a little worried and asked:
“Are you okay?”
“Y-yes! I-I’m sorry!”
The servant flusteredly pushed the trolley inside.
I found my handkerchief, realizing it had been among my clothes, and asked the servant:
“Um, do you know where my clothes are? The yellow dress with frills…”
“They were thrown away.”
