At that moment, unaware of the commotion in the back row, the inside of the four-wheeled carriage was filled with silence. Apart from the faint rustle of pages being turned, no other sound dared to intrude. Even the sound of swallowing felt too loud in the heavy stillness. Baron Boden glanced at the young man sitting across from him.
Hair like dazzling platinum and eyes as clear as a lake. A sharply defined jawline and a long, straight nose. His master had a beauty as if painted, yet no one could surpass his fastidious and exacting nature.
“Do you have something to say?”
“N-No.”
“What about the cleanup?”
“Pardon?”
The baron hesitated for a moment, not understanding, but a chilling gaze shot toward him. Only then did he recall the recently ousted regent. The baron swallowed and replied carefully.
“As a warning, we cut off both his hands and put them on display. To ensure that none of the retainers under the regent ever exploit the islanders with usury again.”
“Animals that don’t listen must be disciplined.”
The duke muttered to himself and closed the book he had been reading. As he massaged the back of his stiff neck, the quick-witted Baron Boden tapped the carriage window a few times. A supervisor riding alongside on horseback approached.
“My lord, is there something you need?”
“Slow down the carriage. His Highness seems tired.”
It was a warning—if the Duke opened his eyes, someone’s life might not be spared. Feeling the tension in his back, the supervisor answered heavily.
“I’ll deliver the message.”
Enoch Ferentz, the other man who had closed his eyes without so much as a glance, was the only young duke of the kingdom and the king’s sole nephew.
“Sister, please put this on immediately.”
The jolting stopped without any signal. John, who had climbed down from the driver’s seat, jumped into the luggage wagon and opened a chest without explanation. Then he handed Roxana a robe—a hooded one that could conceal her face. Not knowing why, Roxana did as instructed and threw the robe on. John lowered his voice to a whisper.
“The situation has changed. I said the horse was sick to get the carriage stopped for a bit. The destination isn’t far—get off now.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
Footsteps approached. John peeked through the curtain, glancing hurriedly around. He whispered again.
“When I give the signal, run to the right. You’ll soon see the castle gate.”
Roxana nodded instead of answering.
“Alright then…”
Taking a deep breath, John flung the curtain aside.
“Run!”
Roxana gathered her robe and leapt out. The surroundings were quiet, perhaps because they had fallen behind the rest of the party. Just as she was about to sprint right—
“Agh!”
“Knew there was a rat hiding somewhere.”
Someone grabbed her arm roughly.
“And what are you? A bold little thief?”
A familiar voice. As soon as she recognized it, her heart dropped. A cold blade touched the back of her neck.
Enoch Ferentz.
Roxana froze. Baron Boden stepped forward, but Enoch, having seen her clothing, gave a command.
“I’ll give you a chance. Remove the robe yourself and state your name and identity.”
No answer. She could feel the trembling in his grip. Sensing something odd, Enoch reached toward her hood—then it happened.
“Do you perhaps suffer from insomnia? Even after sleep, you feel unrested and constantly fatigued?”
“…What?”
Enoch faltered at the random question.
“How did you know I suffer from insomnia?”
“Your dark eye circles, pale complexion, and colorless lips—I deduced it.”
Despite her shaking arm, her voice was calm and clear. Something about her was different. Enoch exchanged glances with Baron Boden.
Then she said something unexpected.
“I can help you.”
“Help?”
“Yes.”
“And in return?”
“Don’t remove my robe. And don’t punish Mr. John.”
Enoch furrowed his brows. An intriguing offer. Insomnia had long plagued him—no doctor or medicine had cured it.
“You’re perceptive, but also foolish. I’ve tried every remedy. Nothing worked.”
“This one will. I’m not suggesting medicine, but an herbal candle.”
“An herbal candle?”
A word he’d never heard before. At the unfamiliar term, Enoch gestured for her to continue.
“For personal reasons, I can’t show my face. But I am under the protection of the church. At the convent, I work with herbs and run a sampling lab.”
“Ah. I see.”
Enoch murmured. It wasn’t uncommon for young women with troubled pasts to become nuns—widowed early, born illegitimately to nobles, or pregnant before marriage. They often kept their identities hidden. Her reluctance to show her face made sense. And nuns knowledgeable in herbs weren’t rare.
She continued.
“One day, a pregnant woman came, saying the smell of animal fat candles made her ill. I created a new candle using eucalyptus, peppermint, and lemon. It was smaller and burned shorter than normal ones, but the smell was milder. To our surprise, her husband, who had insomnia, slept soundly while it was burning.”
“He slept soundly…”
“Yes. Before bed, light a candle with those herbs, warm your hands and feet, relax your muscles, and count sheep in your head.”
Having finished, Roxana waited for his judgment. Her explanation was too detailed to be made up on the spot. Despite her hidden face, there was something trustworthy about her. Her voice was soft—not arrogant or submissive.
After what felt like an eternity, Enoch spoke.
“Everything sounds good. But I can’t accept help from someone whose identity is unknown.”
As expected. Roxana’s heart sank. Just as it seemed it was over—
“I’ll vouch for her!”
John, who had been anxiously watching, knelt before Enoch.
“She’s an old friend of my wife.”
“An old friend, huh.”
“Your Highness.”
Just then, Baron Boden spoke after receiving a report.
“The tribute in the carriage is untouched. It’s getting late. Perhaps we let this go, just this once…”
Enoch, silent, looked Roxana up and down.
His scrutinizing gaze made her swallow hard. He wouldn’t recognize her. Even during their long engagement, they’d barely exchanged words. He wouldn’t know it was her.
Finally, after a long silence that made her head spin, he let her go.
“Fine. Just this once. But if it doesn’t work, you’ll answer for it.”
Roxana’s body relaxed, and she let out a quiet breath. She bowed respectfully and turned.
“Your voice sounds familiar. What’s your name?”
The first name that came to mind popped out.
“…Melanie. I’m Melanie.”
The name of the heroine from a novel she once liked.
Roxana didn’t let her guard down until she reached the castle. She hitched rides with passing carts or walked where there were none.
She arrived at the marquisate castle by sunset. Taking a deep breath, she approached the gates. The outer gatekeeper, a rough-looking man, eyed the lone visitor warily.
“Open the gate, please.”
“Who are you, coming at this hour?”
“I’m a novice nun from Angela Convent. I’ve come on urgent business.”
“Take off your hood.”
Roxana obeyed. No longer ‘Roxana Dalton,’ she was now simply Sister Roxana from Angela Convent. That was all she had left.
“A nun…?”
The gatekeeper looked her up and down suspiciously.
“Yes.”
“A lone nun, from that far away, at this hour? I didn’t hear anything about anyone coming.”
“It’s an urgent matter.”
“I’ve heard that. Still, I have procedures to follow…”
The gatekeeper, cutting off her words, looked more serious. Then he questioned her directly, with a face full of suspicion.
“Still, this seems fishy. Why should I trust you?”
“Pardon…?”
“Spies are everywhere these days. They’re using every trick in the book.”
Roxana was at a loss for words. After two years of secluded life, she was unfamiliar with noble feuds and politics. But the longer the silence, the more suspicion would grow. Regaining her senses, she quickly shook her head.
“Please believe me. I’m not one of them.”
“And why should I? Also, don’t nuns usually have short hair? Even novices, I’ve heard.”
“Well…”
Though she had lived as a nun for two years, she had not yet taken her final vows. She had tried to cut her hair several times, but the abbess always stopped her. Nervously, Roxana clenched her hands and pulled something from her robes.
The next moment, the surprised gatekeeper widened his eyes.
