chapter 41
For short periods, it was fine—but if they were apart for more than half a day—roughly seven hours—the magic would break.
To prevent this, Desdemona insisted on keeping Fiorentia in the same space as her. It was a hassle, but it ensured the enchantment remained intact. Fiorentia wasn’t surprised; she had often accompanied Desdemona on long journeys before.
‘But the face thing… there’s no need to tell Teodoro.’
Suppressing her fatigue, Fiorentia offered a casual explanation.
“The palace doesn’t let just anyone in. Maybe they want to use me for chores instead of a maid.”
“There are already maids in the palace, though.”
“Teo, Desdemona’s temperament is far more unpredictable than you think. And they can’t just vent at me like she does.”
Teodoro stood with his arms crossed, tilting his head in clear confusion. He couldn’t understand her reasoning at all.
“You’re going along knowing she’ll treat you badly anyway?”
Fiorentia paused while packing her light belongings, finally meeting Teodoro’s gaze. He looked as if he wanted to stop her, to make her stay.
‘Nope.’
If she left it at that, he would surely drag the conversation on. But since it was Desdemona’s decision, arguing was useless. To avoid wasting energy, Fiorentia deliberately sighed and responded matter-of-factly.
“That’s just how I’ve survived in this family.”
As if nothing was wrong, as if it didn’t even bother her. Fiorentia’s calm attitude made Teodoro’s lips part slightly before clenching tight. Every time she adopted this expression, he reacted the same way.
‘She’ll quiet down now.’
Her expression concerned him, but Fiorentia had no room to worry about that.
‘Tomorrow… I might finally get to meet him.’
The next day.
“I’ll be off, then.”
“Your… body…”
Teodoro opened his mouth to say something but shut it again, simply nodding instead. His face was oddly troubled.
Curious about what he might have said, Fiorentia waited briefly, but he showed no intention of continuing. With no time to linger, she decided to end the conversation herself.
“Don’t cause trouble. Stay put.”
Then a small worry struck her.
‘Right. He probably won’t have any meals while I’m gone.’
She had been so focused on other matters, she’d completely forgotten that.
‘Well, a few days without food won’t kill him.’
Teodoro had recovered from his previous injuries. He couldn’t go outside, but he could move freely inside the room and fetch water from the bathroom if needed.
‘Staying at the palace won’t be that long, so he’ll manage.’
Fiorentia dismissed the last of her worries. After all, as Teodoro had said before, she wasn’t his mother. She only needed to keep the promise of letting him live, not fuss over every little thing.
“Don’t try to run. Got it?”
There was no verbal reply from Teodoro. Fiorentia gave him a long, warning glare, then left the room. The door clicked shut behind her, locked with the key. She clenched her fists without realizing it. Her fingernails dug into her palms, a vivid reminder of her determination.
‘I should let go…’ she thought, yet she couldn’t open her fingers. Perhaps it was the resolve building inside her.
“Alright…” she exhaled deeply. “Let’s go.”
Time to get serious. Facing Desdemona was one challenge—but Fiorentia had far more important matters to accomplish.
Alone, Teodoro’s mind raced.
He didn’t feel like lying on the bed, so he collapsed onto the couch, staring at the plain ceiling. It had been a while since he had a moment to himself. Fiorentia’s quiet presence hadn’t disturbed him, but now, without the subtle noises she made—the turning of pages, the brushing of fabric—he felt a strange emptiness.
‘Have I… gotten used to her?’
He shook his head, deliberately dismissing the thought, and rested his clasped hands behind his head. It was time to sort out his thoughts—about those who betrayed him, about what he would do if he returned, and more.
But all those plans unraveled.
Fiorentia Marcella—no, just Fiorentia.
A woman wearing a mask, unreadable, who had latched onto his mind and wouldn’t let go.
‘Am I really losing my mind?’
He let out a hollow laugh, then pressed his lips together. Fiorentia was a strange woman.
‘She wants to use me as a tool… but does she even care about winning me over?’
Her words didn’t fully add up. But the human heart was never easy to puzzle out, and Teodoro didn’t feel like overanalyzing it. Not that he was free from irritation.
‘It’s ridiculous how much I’m being manipulated in this relationship.’
Then a sudden question arose. How could he possibly unsettle Fiorentia, break her composure?
‘…Should I just try to run?’
The chains around his wrists rattled. He lifted his hands and examined them. Though he had avoided it before, he could easily break them now that he had regained his strength.
His blue eyes darkened. Impulsively, he wrapped the chains around his hands, pulling tight. The thick iron began to stretch, inch by inch, though it seemed impossible.
Oddly, Teodoro remained expressionless, even as the chains slowly loosened. But—
‘Too much trouble.’
He lost interest. Letting the chains snap and escaping might mean never seeing Fiorentia again. Worse, imagining her suffering at Desdemona’s hands somewhere out of sight made him hesitate.
His mouth twisted. Strange emotions churned inside him.
‘I must be losing my mind in this crazy place.’
There was no other way to explain his dazed state.
“When will she come back?”
Even though Fiorentia had only just left, he already felt the boredom creeping in.
Fiorentia carefully placed two piles near her—a heap of straw and another that would eventually become cursed dolls.
‘It’s creepy every time I look at them.’
She frowned behind her mask. Though currently just dolls, Desdemona had done so many horrific things with them that the feeling was inevitable.
“Are they all moved?”
Desdemona’s call made Fiorentia straighten and reply quickly.
“Yes, sister. I’ve checked their condition thoroughly. If there’s nothing else, I’ll return to my quarters.”
“Very well. Go.”
Desdemona’s cold voice didn’t even glance at her. For once, Fiorentia noticed a rare tension in her usually composed sister. Normally, Desdemona would have picked apart something in Fiorentia’s words, but not now. She clearly knew this wasn’t the time or place.
Fiorentia held her breath and stole a glance at the closed door before Desdemona. Thick, imposing, gilded with gold leaf, it bore the royal emblem. Beyond it lay the bedroom of Emperor Josephine.
