Chapter 104
In Helene’s dream, when she lost her reason, the surrounding scenery began to distort like a ruined oil painting.
Rage and humiliation turned into colors that invaded the world.
‘What was it that woman said again… ah, yes. She apologized, smiling, saying she couldn’t help it.’
The third duchess had been a pitiful woman. She entered the ducal household full of pride, boasting that she had become its mistress, but soon her spirit was broken by the duke’s abuse.
She was never allowed to step outside the duke’s chambers, and, trampled by servants who treated her like a ghost, she lost both confidence and wit.
And then Helene appeared.
A woman who had everything, admired by all the women of the empire, yet had fallen into the same hell as her.
Surely, rather than pity, she must have felt delight.
The thought “This woman is no different from me after all” must have made her forget her own plight.
So, right before her death, she mocked Helene.
“Do you think you’ll be any different? You too were chosen as a victim of this curse. Your end will be the same as mine—”
That last will followed Helene ever since.
“Yes… until Wilhelmina appeared.”
The one who ruined all her plans. If only she had appeared first, it would have been better. Then Helene wouldn’t have had time to feel this guilt, and could have secretly…
[Wow, I only came to peek into Wilhelmina’s dream, but I’ve seen something terrifying.]
At that moment, a faint voice rang in her head. It was strange—sometimes sounding like a child, sometimes like an adult.
“Who are you?”
Her reason was blurred by anger, and she could no longer tell dream from reality.
[Hmm… nightmares like this aren’t really to my taste. But I guess it can’t be helped. Since you’ve suffered so much, I’ll help you a little. This family is mine… after all.]
Suddenly, the surroundings began to brighten.
Snow fell from the ceiling, from the sky.
The third duchess, who had been resting her foot on Helene’s chest, the duke who had been watching with delight, even Mikhail frozen mid-toast—all were buried in snow and vanished.
[Wake up.]
Along with a comforting voice, Helene slowly opened her eyes.
Her body felt stiff, as though someone had poured cold water on her.
It took a good while before her mind, lost in the dream, returned.
‘What… did I just see?’
The memory of the dream grew faint with time.
She was sure she had felt cold because it was a memory of winter, but she couldn’t recall who she had met.
Only the echo of that strange voice lingered faintly in her ears.
“Ah, you’re awake?”
Just then, the bedroom door opened, and Mikhail appeared. Still in his pajamas, he carried a tray with a teapot and cups.
‘The teapot…’
For some reason, the everyday sight of it sent a chill down her spine.
“I wanted to let you sleep more, but you’ll get up, right?”
“…Yes.”
As Helene tried to get out of bed, Mikhail stopped her.
Instead, he brought a small table to the bedside. Drinking tea on the bed was hardly proper etiquette, but Helene didn’t bother to point it out.
‘It’s been a long time since we’ve done this…’
Ever since the late duke’s death, both had been so busy that moments together were rare.
All the more reason not to ruin this precious time with needless complaints.
“Here, it was black tea you preferred in the morning, right?”
“Thank you.”
“I thought your mouth might be bitter, so I also brought some fruit.”
He placed a plate on the table. There was even a basin of water for washing hands. Mikhail personally washed her hands for her.
“You didn’t have to go this far…”
“I wanted to.”
Clearly, she wasn’t the only one happy to spend time together.
And so, their quiet morning teatime began.
They delayed breakfast and ordered that no one be let in unless it was urgent.
Helene swallowed the bite-sized fruit and sipped the black tea.
Mikhail, sitting by her side, watched her with sparkling eyes.
“You brewed this yourself?”
“Yes. How is it?”
“It’s delicious.”
A laugh almost escaped her, but she barely held it back.
In truth, she realized it was his brew the moment she smelled it.
The slight bitterness told her the water temperature had been wrong, but it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that he had done it for her.
As she savored the tea, silence fell.
When the cup was half-empty, Mikhail finally spoke.
“I heard you went to the annex yesterday?”
“…Yes.”
So he brought that up.
Her grip on the teacup tightened.
She could keep her composure before Wilhelmina, but not before Mikhail.
Even if the Count’s request was the reason, the decision had been Helene’s alone.
She was prepared to endure whatever reproach he gave her.
“You always hated the annex. Are you alright?”
“….”
Her tension crumbled at his innocent question.
Rather than scolding her about dealings with Count Tillim or ignoring Wilhelmina, what Mikhail worried about was Helene herself.
She turned her flushed face away.
“I’m fine. It’s in the past now.”
“If that’s true, then I’m glad. But don’t push yourself. I can speak to Mother about it.”
Of course, that was a lie.
Just being near the annex made her recall the late duke—the wrinkled face, the eyes filled with hatred, that unforgettable devilish look.
The memory alone sent shivers down her spine.
“No. It was something I had to do myself.”
“…You mean with Count Tillim.”
“Yes.”
She knew Mikhail hoped she would get along with Wilhelmina. But this was something she could not back down from.
Reconciliation with Count Tillim was an important matter for the ducal house as well.
Among the businesses entrusted to Helene, the wool export trade relied heavily on the Count’s cooperation.
‘I cannot fail.’
That the duchess herself managed business already looked unseemly in society’s eyes.
But Mikhail had entrusted it to her, despite that. She could not betray his faith.
And in truth, Count Tillim had not made any unreasonable demand.
He simply conveyed that his wife felt burdened by social gatherings and wished not to attend.
That it had morphed into “please forbid her entry” weighed on Helene, but among nobles, the will of the family head was absolute.
Even had she refused, Chloe Tillim’s stance would not have changed.
She could not let sentiment ruin a crucial affair. As the duchess, she had to…
‘No. This matter ends here.’
Looking at Mikhail’s worried gaze, Helene steadied her thoughts.
She didn’t want to burden him further. She forced a change of subject.
“By the way, Mikhail… at the last evaluation, signs of the curse appeared, didn’t they?”
“…You heard? I told the butler not to say anything.”
“Ears are more than one, you know.”
He let out an awkward laugh.
“Don’t worry. It was just a small accident.”
He wanted to brush it off lightly, but it was no trivial matter.
About a year had passed since the late duke’s death. The signs meant that the curse was truly beginning to shift onto Mikhail.
Helene clasped his hand.
“As you know, if the curse becomes uncontrollable… you must call for me.”
“…”
Mikhail gave no answer.
‘No—he just doesn’t want to answer.’
Looking firmly into his eyes, she continued.
His usual bright gaze, always attentive to her words, now seemed to dim.
“You remember the promise we made, don’t you?”
The promise exchanged during the late duke’s funeral.
A memory where Helene had proven her love by sacrificing herself for the Layton family, and for Mikhail.
“The promise that before the curse devours you, you will kill me first.”
She lifted his hand and pressed it to her cheek.
It was still warm. That meant the fairy’s curse had not yet seeped into his blood.
He still said nothing, but Helene knew well that his silence was assent.
A peaceful morning between husband and wife.
They shared each other’s warmth for a long time, cherishing it as if knowing this time would soon end.
* * *
I needed information.
The surface-level reports Anna or Jane brought weren’t enough.
By any means necessary, even by dishonest ones, I wanted to understand in detail why this situation had come about.
If only I had more money, I could have hired someone—but with Helene blocking me, even that was difficult.
In other words, I needed someone to help me.
While searching for a solution, I recalled that kid’s words.
“But why do you hide your identity so much? Isn’t it cooler to stand at the front?”
It had started from a conversation about why novel titles these days always included something about hiding.
The titles emphasized secrets, yet the stories themselves always featured heroic exploits.
When I asked about that, the kid switched into ‘teacher mode’ and explained.
“Because there’s catharsis in revealing hidden power.”
“Like when the kid who always came last in exams suddenly takes first place at finals?”
“…My grades are actually good, you know.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
“Anyway, let’s skip the silly chatter.”
Looking back, our conversations often went off track like that. Pleasant memories aside, I recalled the key explanation.
“So basically, the more someone hides, the more important they’re likely to be. Or extremely powerful. The reasons for hiding vary, but the ability to hide comes only from someone strong.”
It was a clear and sharp explanation, no doubt thanks to good language skills.
After all, hiding your true ability meant you could solve problems without ever using your full strength.
“For example… they might be a high-ranking noble traveling incognito, a guild master, an S-rank hunter, things like that. Oh, but there are rules to this, too.”
“What rules?”
“First, they must be strong. Second, they must be of noble birth. And third…”
“They must be handsome.”
And there was indeed one person who fit all three perfectly.
“…You mean me?”
At my words, Rohan—who had been carrying food supplies on Jane’s orders—stopped and stared blankly at me.
“You’re strong, you’re hiding your identity, and you’re handsome. It fits, right?”
“That…”
Perhaps unused to compliments, his ears flushed red as he moved his lips.
“You’ve never even seen my face.”
“I can tell from your jawline. You’re handsome.”
“….”
Oh… now not only his ears but his whole neck turned red.
The veins stood out on his flushed skin, making me feel as if I were teasing him on purpose.
From behind, I heard Nata, who had been guarding me a step back, mutter: “Here we go again…”
