Chapter 31
Even when Edmund was being abused by Moretti, he had never lost his stubborn pride.
But now—Edmund looked completely defeated.
What’s wrong with him?
I carefully studied Edmund again and asked:
“Edmund… are you hiding an injury from me?”
“…What?”
Surprisingly, Edmund looked at me like I had just said something ridiculous.
Even more surprising, everyone else around us reacted the same way.
“No, young lady! What are you saying? You’re the one who’s injured!”
That was the nanny.
“Yes, my lady. Luckily there are no wounds, but the shock will definitely linger in your body.”
That was Willace.
Wait… why is Willace worried about me?
Oh right—I’d spread the rumor about tormenting Edmund in his room just so Willace would stay nearby. Looks like it worked.
So… he’s the one who took down the rest of the assassins?
Edmund had defeated some, but all five would’ve been too much for him.
So calling Willace in, and wearing layers of corsets, both worked out well.
What a relief.
Edmund, face burning red again, pulled the blanket up to my neck and said:
“Stop talking nonsense and go to sleep.”
“What nonsense?!”
“You’re the one who got hurt, yet you’re asking if I’m hurt. If that’s not nonsense, what is it?”
“That’s because your face looks terrible—you look like something’s wrong!”
Edmund was the type who would never admit it even if he was in pain.
Like a wounded wild animal that hides its weakness.
“…”
He had no response. His lips pressed tight, trembling slightly.
His hand still held me down so I couldn’t get up.
“…Just sleep already.”
The nanny came over with medicine the doctor had left and gave it to me.
“Ugh, it’s bitter.”
Not very grown-up words, but what can I do?
This body is only fourteen years old.
Ever since I became Cassia, my taste buds feel sharper—like how children are more sensitive.
“…What about the assassins’ cleanup?”
“That couldn’t be hidden. And after hearing your scream, people eventually came…”
So everyone in the villa knew about the attack now.
The servants must’ve helped clean up too.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“The attack was at dawn. Now it’s just past noon.”
Not much time had passed. Good.
I need to report this to the duke myself.
I tried to sit up—but Edmund stopped me.
“Ah! Let me go!”
“Why are you trying to get up again?!”
“I have work to do!”
“Do it after you rest!”
“No way!”
I struggled against his grip, but even the nanny didn’t help me.
No one’s on my side here!
I’d have to convince Edmund directly.
So I lowered my voice and whispered:
“I need to send a message pigeon to the duke.”
“…!”
Edmund’s face darkened.
“If my uncle already decided to kill me, then it’s useless.”
“No. That’s not it.”
He thought the duke had ordered this attempt.
But I knew he hadn’t.
“This attack wasn’t from the duke.”
“If it were him, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me too. That wouldn’t be strange.”
“I know. But if it were him, it wouldn’t have been this sloppy.”
“…That’s true…”
If the duke wanted Edmund dead, he would’ve arranged an “accident” or poison and pinned the blame on me.
That’s the whole reason he forced this marriage.
But I knew from the original story—
The real mastermind this time was the duchess and her family.
I couldn’t say that outright, so I gave a reason that sounded logical.
“The duke ordered me to coax or torment you until you reveal your secret. He doesn’t plan to kill you yet. Not until then.”
“…”
“But the duchess is different.”
Edmund’s face hardened.
“My aunt…?”
Yes. His expression turned grim, but calm.
“If it’s her, then yes… it makes sense.”
“When I last visited the main estate, and when Baroness Lilifen visited recently, something felt off.”
He hesitated, then asked:
“So… is that why you came to my room?”
Well, considering I’d shown up in full corset armor and forced him to stay awake for days, of course he’d guess.
And I should get credit for it! I worked so hard!
I nodded.
“Yes. I didn’t know the exact date, so I had no choice.”
I added, to explain why I had to get up:
“That’s why we need to report this to the duke as soon as possible. If the duchess acted without his consent, then it’s better for him to know right away.”
And in truth, the duke would be furious.
If he can’t secure the family signet, he’ll lose face with the imperial family.
“This could drive a wedge between him and the duchess. So the sooner, the better.”
Edmund had no argument left.
So with the nanny’s help, I returned to my room—where the message pigeons were kept.
Strangely, Edmund and Willace both followed right behind me.
I didn’t have the energy to shoo them away, so I just wrote the report, tied it to the pigeon, and sent it off.
Done.
Watching the bird fly safely into the sky, I sighed with relief.
Then Edmund’s voice came from behind me.
“Cassia.”
I turned my head. Edmund was standing there, head bowed.
“…?”
After a strange silence, his slightly hoarse voice asked:
“Why… didn’t you tell me beforehand?”
What was that supposed to mean?
I shrugged.
“Even if I told you, would you have believed me?”
“…!”
His shoulders shook hard, as if struck.
From behind, I even heard Willace cough like he’d swallowed wrong.
“Even if I told you, would you have believed me?”
Those words slammed into the back of Edmund’s head like a hammer.
Cassia’s words hit the mark exactly.
Behind him, Willace coughed awkwardly. But Edmund couldn’t blame him.
Because Edmund himself was no different.
No… I was worse.
He had accepted everything Cassia had done for him—
yet he had never trusted her.
If she had scolded him for it, if she had said “you never believe me,”
he might’ve felt less guilty.
But she hadn’t.
Her tone had been calm, like she never even expected to be trusted in the first place.
Like she thought it was only natural not to be believed… as if she’d never hoped for it at all.
His heart thudded painfully, like his blood was running backward.
For the first time, Edmund truly wondered:
What kind of feelings does this girl carry as she helps me?
She doesn’t expect trust, thanks, or anything in return.
She just shoulders it all alone.
How can she do that?
And why doesn’t she ever get angry at me?
Why doesn’t she blame or resent me?
Edmund thought of the fountain pen in his pocket.
The clothes he was wearing now.
The poisoned meals Cassia had blocked for him again and again—sometimes by risking her own health.
It was always Cassia.
At last, he managed to open his trembling lips.
“…I’m sorry.”
Cassia’s eyes widened.
“And don’t do this again.”
“H-huh? You mean don’t act without telling you? Okay, I—”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Edmund’s steady gaze fixed on her.
This time, his voice didn’t tremble at all.
“I mean—don’t risk your life again. Ever.”
His words carried an unusual force and firm resolve.
