Chapter 35
Glacies Castle had a chapel.
That was one of the places Asha had shown me when we toured the castle together.
I could picture it roughly from her descriptions, but even drawing on memories from my past life, I had never actually been there, so I didn’t know what it truly looked like. Asha had also explained that priests stayed there at all times.
If I used the power of the stick, I could probably see what the chapel looked like, but since I couldn’t perceive colors through that power, it would just confuse me. So, I hadn’t tried.
But even so, was it really okay for him to barge in so suddenly like this?
“Why is he acting like this all of a sudden?”
The speed at which he was running was terrifying, and I had no choice but to grab onto his chest to steady myself.
I didn’t even know which route he was taking — only that it wasn’t the same path Asha and I had taken before, and that he was charging straight toward the chapel.
I didn’t have to look at his shoulder wound to know how bad it was. I could guess from experience — remembering the blows I’d taken from the loan sharks in my previous life, how the pain felt, and how much I’d bled.
When my sister had kicked me earlier, it had hurt emotionally more than physically. So knowing this wasn’t the kind of injury that would leave him unable to move or writhing in pain for days was, oddly enough, a relief.
But I couldn’t understand why he was acting like this.
“Your Grace, the Grand Duke? What brings you here at this hour?”
The priest’s voice carried clear confusion. Understandably so — after all, Russell had suddenly shown up, carrying me in his arms, in the middle of the night.
Would the priest scold him for making such a fuss over a trivial wound?
“Look at her wound.”
“Ah… understood.”
The priest, whose face I didn’t recognize, audibly swallowed. His voice carried both alarm and urgency.
His reaction surprised me, and I couldn’t help but speak softly.
“Um… really, I’m fine. I can even lift my shoulder just fine. It doesn’t hurt that much.”
“The wound. You should have it treated.”
Russell’s firm tone cut off my words. Why was everyone making such a big deal out of a bruise? I couldn’t understand it.
“More importantly, Fiana — if anyone saw, they might think I hurt you.”
“That’s not—”
“Your Grace, if you’ll set her down here.”
Following the priest’s guidance, we stepped into the chapel. Our footsteps echoed loudly — the sound told me it was a vast space. After passing through two doors, he set me down on a wooden bench.
“It may be uncomfortable, but please bear with me for a moment.”
The priest said that as he pulled down the fabric covering my shoulder. Strangely, even though I was sure the building was made of cold stone, the air around us felt warm.
It feels… like I’ve been here before.
Before my memories returned, the ducal family had once summoned a famous priest to treat my eyes — they hadn’t brought me to the chapel.
And in my previous life, living in the slums, there was no way I could have entered a chapel — places that required donations far beyond what I could afford.
The priests would sometimes visit the slums, that pit of darkness in the city, but I could never get treatment for my wounds.
“Father, please! Anything you can spare!”
“My child is sick! Please help us!”
“Hey! Don’t push! I was here first!”
People had fought just to get a scrap of bread from the priests. Many priests, disgusted by the darkness of the slums, simply stopped coming altogether.
As I recalled those times, a blinding light suddenly filled my vision.
Light?
That couldn’t be right. My optic nerves were dead — I shouldn’t have been able to perceive light at all.
So how was I seeing it now?
The light slowly faded, replaced once again by darkness. The priest removed his hand from my shoulder and spoke politely.
“I’ll bring some ointment. Please wait just a moment.”
“Ah… yes.”
The door closed, and a suffocating silence filled the room. Unable to stand it, I spoke first.
“Russell… I have something I want to ask.”
“Ask after your wound’s healed.”
“Why did you need a puppet duchess?”
“I thought we’d already finished that conversation.”
His tone made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
“No. I want to know if it’s because you don’t want to get married.”
He exhaled quietly, dragged a nearby chair over with a scraping sound, and sat down. When he spoke, his voice was dry.
“It’s not unusual to not want to marry.”
His words had an air of warning — don’t ask further. But considering the emperor himself wanted this marriage, there must’ve been a reason even the imperial family couldn’t understand.
Then, suddenly, another possibility came to mind.
I hesitated before asking, “Is there… someone else you love?”
“Who knows.”
He gave a soft, bitter laugh.
Even I found my question unconvincing. This was a man who had personally executed his former fiancée. If anything, it would’ve been more shocking if he had loved someone.
“I wasn’t serious about it. I didn’t think you were the type.”
“And if I were?”
“What?”
The unexpected reply made me blink. A woman who could make Russell fall in love — I couldn’t even imagine it.
“What kind of woman was she?”
“Why? So you can copy her?”
“No, I’m just… curious.”
He didn’t hide a faint laugh — but after that, he fell silent.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
The silence between us grew thick enough that only the sound of our breathing filled it.
“She was… strange.”
He finally spoke, without any preamble. His voice carried a faint bitterness, even disgust.
“She could barely take care of herself, yet she always worried about others. Always trying to do something kind for me. Back then — and even now — she was just… strange.”
I frowned. Russell had grown up in the capital, hadn’t he? That would mean he’d been raised in a wealthy, stable home.
“She always looked for hope, even in despair. She had this fierce will to live.”
I tried to read the emotion in his voice — longing, melancholy, maybe even shame. But above all, there was something deeper.
“And yet… she was numb to pain. No matter how much she suffered, she’d still greet me with a smile… as if forcing herself to.”
“Russell.”
“Yeah. Just like you…”
Hopelessness.
The kind of despair one feels when remembering the dead. That emotion filled his voice, chilling my heart as if cold fingers had brushed it.
So that woman… she’s no longer alive.
I tensed and asked quietly, “Where is she now?”
The air instantly froze. The atmosphere grew so heavy it made my chest ache.
If Russell didn’t want to marry because he loved someone dead — if he couldn’t open his heart to anyone else —
Then making me his puppet duchess meant his heart would forever be trapped in a prison with no escape.
To love someone you can never see or touch again, for eternity.
I knew that pain.
The one who once told me that courage was enough, even if I had no strength — that person, too, no longer existed in this world.
Now that I’ve been reborn, I know I can never meet them again.
Russell’s voice was calm — too calm.
“She’s…”
“I’ve brought the ointment.”
The priest’s voice interrupted as the door opened. He must have sensed the tension in the room, because he didn’t move right away — I could almost feel his wary gaze.
Honestly, I was relieved he’d come when he did.
“Excuse me, milady.”
The moment the cold, sharp-scented ointment touched my shoulder, goosebumps rose all over my body. The chill of the air mixed with the ointment’s icy touch, making me want to groan, but I held it back.
Throughout it all, Russell said nothing — just quietly watched me.
Is he… worried about me?
His gaze was heavy, and though it made me uncomfortable, nothing else happened. When the priest finished applying the ointment and I stepped out of the chapel, the air outside felt warm and soft.
“Now we’ll just wait for it to heal naturally.”
“Thank you.”
“My thanks.”
“Not at all. Please, take care, both of you.”
The priest’s footsteps faded as he walked back inside. I listened to them fade, holding Russell’s hand — it was as warm as ever.
The air feels gentle.
The faint heaviness in my head told me that the sun must already be high in the sky.
“It’s inconvenient without the stick.”
“Russell… there’s something I need to tell you about that.”
“You mean it was taken?”
He sounded unsurprised, as if he’d already guessed. I’d worried he might get angry, but his calm reaction caught me off guard.
“How did you know?”
“Didn’t you say Lady Lena went back? She returned it to me before leaving.”
“Wait, Russell—”
Without warning, I reached up and placed both hands on his face. Slowly, I traced his features. Then I declared firmly:
“You’re lying to me.”
I felt his expression harden beneath my palms.
Even so, I continued.
“My sister… she didn’t just go back.”
