Chapter 3
“—Then the place where Rictan lives… is different?”
“…It is. Especially here… among the islands, this place is particularly remote and underdeveloped.”
The murmuring voices, as if heard through a veil of fog, gradually grew clearer.
“Is it really that bad? I’ve only ever lived here.”
“You don’t need to know. Your memories will return little by little.”
As the voices sharpened, the fog lifted, revealing the figures of two people standing atop a cliff.
“You say I’ve lost my memory, but… I still don’t quite understand.”
Cotton gave an awkward smile and changed the subject.
“You said you came from across the sea, right? Then… is it very, very far away?”
“…Far. Very far.”
So it was far. Hearing his delayed reply, Cotton gazed out at the sea before her. The shimmering waves sparkled brilliantly, as if untouched by the turmoil in her heart. No matter how far she traced the endless horizon, not even another island was in sight. If he were to leave, she would likely never see this man again.
“You’ll be… going back soon, then.”
She tried to speak evenly, but her voice trembled faintly. Startled, Cotton quickly shut her mouth, unwilling to reveal it. It would be shameless to ask someone who had a place to return to not to leave. They had not even known each other for half a day. And yet, this man had already settled deep within her heart. She swallowed the words that rose to her throat.
“I’ll help you recover your memories.”
Rictan gently turned her face back toward him when she deliberately looked away. Their gazes met. In his deep, sapphire-blue eyes—so profound they seemed bottomless—she saw herself reflected.
“Come with me.”
.
.
.
Cotton awoke from her sleep.
The brilliant scene she had just witnessed felt like a lie in the dim darkness of her room. She closed her eyes again, hoping to return to the same dream, but sleep would not come. Eventually, she pushed herself up unsteadily.
Walking to the window, she drew back the curtains, and sunlight poured in. Rictan’s proposal had felt just like this—like a radiant light shining from him.
It was an unforgettable day. No matter how much time passed, she would never forget it. A faint smile touched her lips as the vivid memory resurfaced—until her eyes suddenly widened.
In the distance, a carriage was circling toward the rear of the imperial palace. It was the carriage Rictan used whenever he returned from external engagements. Recognizing its distinctive design and crest, she hurriedly changed out of her nightclothes. Even without a maid, putting on a simple dress was easy enough.
Careful not to fall despite her haste, she descended the stairs—just as Rictan was entering through the main doors, handing his coat to a servant. Perhaps sensing her presence, he looked up, and their eyes met.
Cotton smiled gently, as if to welcome him back, but Rictan quickly averted his gaze.
She felt a pang of disappointment, but her joy at seeing him outweighed it. Normally, it was difficult even to catch a glimpse of him—yet today, their eyes had met, hadn’t they?
As he issued instructions and began ascending the stairs, Cotton hurried after him. After confirming that no one else was nearby, she spoke.
“Rictan, do you know what I dreamed about today? I dreamed of when we first met in Cuswell.”
“……”
“It was so vivid. I could feel the cool breeze, the scent of the sea, even the air from back then. It felt as if I’d truly gone back to that day.”
Rictan remained silent, but Cotton paid it no mind, smiling brightly. Still buoyed by the happiness of her dream, she chattered on like a sparrow, completely forgetting what had happened the day before.
Her voice, raised with excitement, came to an abrupt halt the moment they reached Rictan’s bedroom.
“Did I ever say you could come in whenever you pleased?”
Rictan frowned as he looked at Cotton’s foot crossing the threshold. She stopped and cautiously looked up at him. Since when had she begun to fear her husband’s silent gaze?
“I never said you could even leave your room.”
No—more precisely, it wasn’t Rictan himself she feared, but the coldness in his eyes. She could not forget the warmth that once softened his gaze with affection. Yet now, in those chilled, indifferent eyes, there was no trace of warmth left.
“Could we just talk for a—ah!”
A sudden force struck her shoulder, and Cotton staggered backward, pushed out of the room.
“How many times must I say it before you even pretend to understand? Didn’t I tell you your face disgusts me? Even speaking to you—breathing the same air as you—makes me sick.”
Bang. The door slammed shut mercilessly.
At the loud noise, Cotton flinched, her body trembling, before she pressed her quivering lips together. The buoyant feeling she had carried vanished instantly, sinking deep into nothingness. Though no cold water had been poured over her, a chill crept through her body.
Though it was her shoulder that had been shoved, it was her chest that ached. Each word felt like a blade carving into her. Cotton forced her ragged breathing to steady.
After a while, her racing heart gradually calmed, and her unsteady breaths settled. Swallowing the lingering pain, she spoke softly to the husband beyond the door.
“I’ll come again.”
He must be tired. There would be another time.
Comforting herself, she turned and headed back to her room, her steps heavy.
“Ah…!”
Just as she reached her door, walking slowly, she suddenly staggered, clutching her head. A wave of dizziness struck, as if the world had flipped upside down. She stood still for a moment, waiting for it to pass, then placed a hand against the wall and continued on.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
At the sound of repeated clicking tongues, Cotton smiled faintly as if to reassure, but a sharp scolding immediately followed.
“What could possibly make you smile at a time like this? Didn’t I tell you to take proper care of yourself?”
Gott, her physician, stopped mid-examination and lifted her thin arm, shaking it slightly as if to demonstrate. Even with the slightest pressure, Cotton’s body wavered where she sat on the bed. Gott let out a deep sigh.
“Look at this. You’re wasting away more each time I see you.”
“I think I’ve been eating fairly well…”
“You called me here because you felt dizzy again. At least try to make your lies believable.”
Cotton avoided his piercing gaze. In truth, there were many things weighing on her conscience. She often skipped meals while waiting for her husband, or claimed she wasn’t hungry. Even when she did eat, she would take only two or three bites before setting her fork down. But forcing herself to eat only made her feel worse, so what else could she do?
“You were already slender for your frame. This isn’t something that can be fixed with medicine.”
“……”
“As I’ve said many times, this is due to poor nutrition and stress. You must take care of yourself by your own will, Your Majesty.”
It was the same thing she heard at every examination. Stress… something faintly crossed her mind, but it didn’t leave much of an impression.
Murmuring that she understood, Cotton leaned back against the pillow, half-reclining on the bed. It was her way of subtly avoiding the conversation—her way of refusing without directly saying so.
“Honestly… goodness.”
Realizing that his words would have little effect, Gott sighed deeply once more and began packing his medical bag. Then he pulled the bell rope beside the bed.
“You may be fine for now, but at this rate, malnutrition could set in at any time. I’ll inform your maid, so make sure you eat every meal.”
Thinking he had called for a maid to see him out, Cotton quickly sat up at his next words. Fighting off another wave of dizziness, she grabbed his arm.
“No—don’t tell her. I’ll make sure to eat properly.”
“You say that every time. Your maid needs to know your condition to assist you properly.”
“I really will eat regularly this time. Please don’t tell her. I don’t want to make anyone worry.”
A personal maid was meant to attend closely to the Empress’s health and all other matters—yet she didn’t want to cause concern. Though baffled, Gott nodded. Seeing the Empress’s face, pale as if she had received a death sentence, left him unable to respond otherwise.
Cotton felt relieved. If it reached Sheldi’s ears—who loved to chatter—it might eventually reach Rictan as well. Her husband already found her bothersome and avoided her. If he heard she was unwell, he might only see her as an even greater nuisance.
“Then please make sure to eat properly until my next visit. Your body and organs have already weakened considerably.”
Though the examination seemed to be over, his grumbling admonishments continued. Despite the nagging tone, Cotton smiled instead. She knew she was being scolded, yet this warmth—so different from the indifference and neglect she endured—brought her a small sense of happiness.
“Rather than moving around too much, focus on proper nutrition. Once your body recovers, you can take light walks—”
Knock, knock.
The sound of knocking cut him off as a maid arrived.
“…I’ll return on your next scheduled visit. If anything happens in the meantime, be sure to call for me.”
Still looking unconvinced, Gott rose from his seat and left the bedroom after a final remark. Even as he stepped into the corridor and closed the door, he kept glancing back. The Empress was still waving at him, her face full of smiles—but he could not bring himself to smile in return.
He had a general idea why her body was growing weaker and why the shadow behind her gentle smile was deepening. Yet as her physician, there was little he could do beyond tending to her health.
‘Even if I wished to stay by her side and care for her, permission is never granted.’
Clicking his tongue, Gott muttered inwardly. He had reported the matter to the Emperor several times, only to be denied each time.
Suppressing his frustration toward the cold and unyielding Emperor, he addressed the woman waiting outside.
“Her Majesty should avoid greasy or heavy foods for now. Increase her portions with easily digestible soups. And make sure she eats every meal.”
Though the Empress had asked him not to say anything, he could not ignore her condition.
“Understood. I’ll inform the head chef. Even when we urge her to eat, Her Majesty refuses—but soup should be easier for her to take.”
Watching Sheldi repeat, “Easily digestible food…” as if committing it to memory, Gott felt slightly reassured. At the very least, the Empress’s personal maid seemed to care for her.
