Chapter 31
It was a love with an expiration date.
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t even love—it was more like overprotection.
Preventing trouble before it happened was probably better than dealing with it after.
‘Even though I don’t really need it.’
Once you hire someone unnecessarily, it’s harder to let them go later when their absence becomes noticeable.
What worried her more was not their presence, but their eventual absence.
The more traces someone leaves behind, the more their absence lingers.
“Stop with the nonsense and just go get your errands done. I need to get some rest—maybe even take a nap.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. Please call if you need anything!”
“Got it.”
The two bright-spirited girls bowed deeply twice and exited the room.
She sighed.
The maids, who had passionately argued their point, had carefully straightened out the crumpled letter and left it on the bed before leaving.
‘…Who the hell is this Marquis of Salami?’
There weren’t many ways to find out in her current condition.
Letting anyone know that her memory wasn’t intact would only make things more complicated.
She’d have to meet the person directly, ask Isaac, or—if all else failed—ask Eclipse, who already knew everything.
The wisest choice was Eclipse, but…
‘Ever since I came to the Grand Duke’s estate, he hasn’t contacted me.’
She thought he’d come storming in, raging without a word, but surprisingly, there had been no word from him.
She hoped he’d accepted it and moved on—but if not, she was genuinely curious what was going on.
Knock knock.
As she was lost in thought, pushing the letter aside, another knock came at the door.
Cleia gave up thinking and slumped back, letting her body relax.
“Yes, come in.”
The door opened, revealing a familiar silhouette.
“…Isaac?”
“You don’t look well. Are you tired?”
“No, not really.”
“Then are you feeling unwell?”
“Not that either.”
Cleia answered with a soft chuckle.
Isaac naturally dragged a chair over next to the bed.
When she smiled faintly, he gazed at her quietly.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“Thinking?”
“I’ll have you see a physician. I know a top royal doctor—very skilled. He’ll be able to diagnose you accurately.”
Cleia almost joked, but shut her mouth when she saw how serious Isaac looked.
For Isaac, it was a natural suggestion—but for Cleia, it was an awkward one.
“I think my current condition is just right. My goal is to maintain it as is.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes things easier for you too, doesn’t it? The notorious woman who stirred up every rumor is now quiet and calm.”
At her light tone, Isaac’s expression hardened.
The corners of Cleia’s lips, which had been raised in a smile, slowly fell.
“Sorry. That was probably a poor choice of words.”
“…”
“But even if you’re tight-lipped, Isaac, others aren’t.”
She said it calmly.
Isaac watched her silently, a puzzled look in his eyes.
“I don’t want anyone to know about my condition. Of course, if you’re introducing the doctor, he likely won’t spread rumors. But cracks exist everywhere.”
“Cracks?”
“Yes. I trust you, Isaac. But I don’t trust others. And there’s no guarantee he won’t slip up.”
If it were Cleia Linora, she would’ve handled it quietly behind the scenes.
She would’ve never revealed her condition to anyone.
“Isaac, unlike you, who is admired and respected, there are plenty of people waiting to tear me down.”
Cleia’s lips curved into a soft smile.
Isaac found her calm tone more troubling than if she had been angry.
In fact, he thought he might’ve preferred if she had just screamed at him instead.
“If people knew I was almost poisoned, they’d be thrilled—probably wouldn’t even fit in this mansion, the number of them.”
“Who…”
“They’re already like this. If they find out about my condition, I can’t even imagine how much worse they’ll be.”
Cleia glanced at the trash bin.
Her gaze was fleeting, but Isaac caught it.
His brow furrowed as he realized what she’d been looking at.
‘…There’s only a letter in there.’
Cleia had already turned her gaze elsewhere.
After a moment of thought, Isaac reached for the trash bin and flipped it over onto the floor.
A messy pile of garbage scattered across the rug.
“Isaac! What are you doing—?!”
“What is this?”
His voice was cold and flat, and Cleia froze in place.
The chill crawling up her spine was enough to awaken every deadened sense in her body.
[Overwhelming Pressure has activated. You cannot withstand the opponent’s killing intent. Organ function is restricted to 70%.]
You’ve got to be kidding me!
Before she could even think, a system message popped up, and Cleia quickly turned her head.
Isaac’s eyes pierced the floor with deadly sharpness—terrifying and focused.
“…Who dares…”
His voice was low, sharp, and freezing.
Cleia actually stopped breathing for a moment.
“I ask you—why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“What? I mean, come on. It’s just some childish prank…”
“You said it first. That married couples shouldn’t keep secrets. Didn’t you?”
Cleia swallowed hard and blinked without moving.
She could see the tendons bulging on the back of his clenched hand.
“…I just thought it wasn’t a big deal. And that you didn’t need to worry about it.”
“A letter filled with hair and fingernails isn’t a big deal?”
Maybe it was because she’d grown used to such things from dramas and novels, but it didn’t feel all that serious.
Compared to the more violent forms of bullying, this seemed relatively tame.
If she wasn’t affected, then wasn’t it fine?
She didn’t understand why he was so worked up.
“Well, okay, it was a bit much, I’ll admit… but it’s not like it did me any harm.”
“…Must be nice. To be so indifferent about your own wellbeing.”
Isaac’s sarcastic tone made her fall silent.
She still didn’t quite understand what had made him so angry.
Her smile slowly faded.
“…I really don’t get it. Why is this something that upsets you, Isaac?”
Her words were sharp, and then silence followed.
A heavy stillness settled between them.
Eventually, Isaac sighed after glancing at her repeatedly.
He looked at her, then suddenly reached out and pressed his hand to her forehead.
“…What are you doing?”
“Just checking if you have a fever.”
He cleared his throat and slowly pulled his hand away.
Then he looked at her seriously and sighed again.
“You’re not actually angry, are you?”
“…I’m not sure.”
“I’m sorry. Just don’t stress. Stress causes all kinds of illness.”
“…”
Looking into Isaac’s earnest eyes, Cleia let out a dry chuckle.
It reminded her of that sunfish game she used to play.
You had to raise a sunfish, but it would die just from seeing a shrimp.
“I’m not that fragile.”
“Don’t get angry, either. Your heart might not be able to take it.”
He rubbed her forehead gently with his thumb as he said it.
Cleia’s face darkened.
He definitely saw her as a sunfish.
“…You don’t feel like you’re raising one, do you?”
She muttered under her breath.
Isaac tilted his head, not quite hearing.
He bent forward slightly, as if to apologize.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.”
She shook her head awkwardly, as if annoyed by his caution.
She wasn’t being treated like a child—no, worse, like a patient.
“I’m not going to die from a light bump, you know that, right?”
“…”
“…Isaac?”
“Yeah. Right.”
No, say it clearly. What kind of “yeah, right” was that?
Was that really your answer?
Cleia narrowed her eyes, and Isaac averted his gaze.
She sighed deeply.
“I won’t fall apart from being touched.”
“Still, I’ll hold onto you, just in case.”
“You don’t have to hold on…”
Cleia tried to argue but gave up, pressing her forehead and nodding in defeat.
Fine. How could she make someone like him—who wouldn’t let her take a single step alone—understand?
Especially when her physical strength was nothing compared to his.
‘…Come to think of it, the pressure is gone.’
Isaac’s expression had softened, and the system message about restricted organ function had disappeared.
“Are you busy today, Isaac?”
“Other than a few documents to review, not really.”
“Then… how about we go on a date?”
“…With that body?”
Isaac narrowed his eyes skeptically.
What’s wrong with this body?
…Though, admittedly, it was a very fragile one.
