Chapter 6
It was sometime after dinner.
Having seen the Alphret couple off with a promise to meet again, Cotton had dozed off briefly under the lingering effects of the medicine Goat had given her.
“…What did you say?”
For a moment, Cotton wondered if she was still dreaming. Even when Sheldy urgently shook her awake and she rose in a daze, coming face to face with Rictan—who had no reason to be here—she thought it must be a dream.
“Let’s try to recover your memories.”
At the clearly spoken, low voice, Cotton’s eyes flew open. The remnants of sleep vanished instantly. She got out of bed and moved across to the sofa where Rictan was sitting.
Rictan was looking around the room. Cotton noticed his gaze land on the empty medicine packet atop the bedside table and hurriedly blocked it with her body. As if it were nothing, she crumpled it in her hand and tossed it into the trash. She expected him to ask what the medicine was, but his lips never parted.
She was the one who wanted to hide the fact that she had grown weak and needed medication, yet for some reason, she felt a pang of disappointment. Masking her gloom with an awkward smile, Cotton sat down on the sofa. But her face soon flushed hot enough to make her forget that moment entirely—she had only just woken up and looked a mess.
She smoothed her wrinkled clothes and hastily fixed her disheveled hair. For the first time, she felt a hint of resentment toward Sheldy for not properly attending to her when the Emperor had arrived. Still, more important than that was the reason Rictan had come all this way.
“You want to recover my memories? Why… why?”
Why now? Hadn’t he already given up on that? Cotton couldn’t understand. Back when she had left Kuswell and come to Asbern with Rictan, she had continued trying to regain her memories. There had been no progress, but their relationship had developed into love, and they had married. After that day, however, it was as if something had severed between them, and she assumed he had abandoned the idea.
“Why ask for a reason? Wasn’t it something you wanted?”
Cotton fell silent, unable to affirm or deny it.
In truth, she had wanted to recover her memories even more than Rictan. She had tried every possible method, day and night, without hesitation. Since he was convinced she was his missing former fiancée, Cotton had wanted to reclaim her memories and proudly declare that she was Renedia.
But now… she both wanted and didn’t want to remember. The other possibility that naturally followed had begun to gnaw at her. And yet, now he was asking her to remember again…
“You don’t have a choice anyway.”
His firm voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. As if he intended to proceed regardless of her answer, Rictan continued indifferently,
“I’ll make time to stop by now and then. I’ll bring things related to Renedia one by one, so look at them like before and hold onto them. If even the smallest thing comes to mind, tell me immediately.”
“…Alright.”
“Go outside too, if you want.”
He had given permission to go out. He, who had once forbidden even a walk in the garden. Was he telling her to do as she pleased now—or that it no longer mattered what she did?
Pushing away the dark thoughts pressing in on her, Cotton nodded.
As if that was all he had to say, Rictan rose from his seat. She hadn’t expected small talk like asking whether she had eaten dinner, but even so, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation in his retreating back. It was a sight she had always watched, yet today, for some reason, it felt harder than ever to look at. Cotton quietly lowered her gaze.
She couldn’t know his true intentions in suggesting they recover her memories now, but she could vaguely guess.
Cotton thought to herself—
If she failed to regain her memories, or even if she did and turned out not to be Renedia…
Then even her place as his wife, by his side, would truly come to an end.
Cotton stared quietly at the piece of paper.
It fluttered weakly in her hands, worn from how often she had taken it out and touched it.
When she first met Rictan in Kuswell, she hadn’t believed him right away when he said, “You’re Renedia.” A stranger had suddenly grabbed her and shouted such words—of course she had been frightened. If he hadn’t covered his face and wept like a man who looked as though he wouldn’t bleed even if stabbed, she might have run away without hearing him out.
Even after learning the reason behind his actions, she didn’t immediately believe him. She had lived her entire remembered life as Cotton. And yet he claimed she was someone named Renedia Alphret from a distant land. Still, there had been a decisive reason that eventually made even her, once wary and doubtful, accept the possibility.
“Eyes… nose… lips… hair…”
Her fingers traced the paper—or rather, the person drawn upon it. Her fingertips passed over slightly curved eyes that seemed always on the verge of smiling, brushed over the nose, and moved along the neatly closed lips. Then she stroked the softly shaded ash-gray hair.
It was the portrait of Renedia Alphret that Rictan had given her.
Since the image depicted a young girl, anyone might mistake them for sisters. Even Cotton herself had been startled by the resemblance when she first saw it.
“They’re similar… right?”
But her voice lacked confidence.
Looking down, she noted that despite the minor differences expected in a portrait, the color of the hair was identical to hers. It also bore a strong resemblance to Raven, Renedia’s father.
Ash-gray hair wasn’t common—but neither was it unheard of. Sweeping her own hair to one side, Cotton clasped it tightly with both hands and bowed her head deeply, as if in prayer.
As if his proposal had been sincere, Rictan consistently brought items related to Renedia. Cotton had expected him to send someone else, but surprisingly, he came in person.
While she was glad to see her husband more often, at the same time, these moments felt suffocating.
“This is a hairpin she used to wear often, this is a handkerchief, and this here…”
Whenever he brought items, Rictan would lay them out on the table and explain each one in detail. He then handed them to Cotton, as if telling her to examine them later, and leaned back on the sofa, silently watching her for long stretches of time to see if anything changed.
Cotton would then carefully inspect each item that likely held Renedia’s memories. Even without looking at him, she could feel what he was doing. His persistent gaze never left her, even as she reached out, picked up the objects, and examined them one by one.
The pressure felt like a silent urging, making her shoulders stiffen. A dark future she didn’t want to imagine loomed over her. With his gaze shadowing her every move, it was impossible to focus—but whether she tried or not, no memories surfaced.
She fidgeted repeatedly with the last item—the handkerchief. Unlike the others, it was nothing more than a fine piece of fabric embroidered with Renedia’s name, yet she couldn’t bring herself to put it down for a long time. Eventually, she set it aside and returned to a piece of jewelry she had already examined once.
If Cotton said she couldn’t remember, Rictan would gather the items and leave the room. That was the end of it. Even if she sought him out afterward, he wouldn’t see her.
In other words, this time was the only moment she could be with her husband.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to say for a while.”
It was also her only chance to truly speak with him. Casting a sideways glance at him, Cotton finally broke the heavy silence. Rictan did not respond, but he didn’t stop her either. That alone brightened her expression slightly, and she continued carefully, word by word.
“I hope you’ll listen without getting angry.”
“……”
“What you said the day after our wedding… I believe there was some kind of misunderstanding—”
Her calm voice gradually trailed off.
Cotton had always liked Rictan’s deep, night-sea-colored eyes. They often appeared indifferent and cold, yet whenever he looked at her, they softened with warmth. She had loved meeting his gaze.
But now, she slowly lowered her eyes.
Since the wedding, Rictan had avoided and ignored her—but never had he looked at her with such undisguised contempt.
“I said we’d try to recover your memories. I have neither the intention nor the time to listen to baseless excuses. Focus.”
Only a few days—just a few hours together—and yet, hearing his cold voice, Cotton keenly felt the distance that had grown between them.
And she realized something.
It was undoubtedly a misunderstanding… but to her husband, it no longer mattered.
The determination she had held to clear things up withered like a fading flower.
As she fell silent, an icy stillness settled over the room. The two remained frozen in their positions, as though time itself had stopped.
After a long while, Cotton moved first.
She set the item down, rose slowly, and walked toward the window. Gazing outside through the glass, she spoke faintly, almost like an exhale—
“Shall we… go out into the streets?”
Though she was now free to go out, Cotton had not left the room. There were many reasons—she never knew when Rictan might come, and she didn’t want to burden the servants who would have to attend to the Empress’s movements. But right now, she wanted to go outside with him.
“You said it’s a place you used to visit often with Miss Renedia. I didn’t remember anything before, but maybe now that more time has passed, something different might come to mind.”
Afraid he might refuse outright, she quickly added,
“I want to go out with you.”
Rictan seemed to consider something for a moment before rising to his feet.
“Let’s go now.”
