She was mine. She had always been by my side since childhood, as if it were only natural—my own mother. And yet, what was it about that terrible child that made her monopolize my mother’s embrace?
Karia stopped in her tracks and turned her head toward Lamia. For a moment, she silently studied the child’s messy, tear-streaked face and then spoke coldly.
“Don’t call me that. I’m no longer your mother. I have no obligation to indulge your childish whims anymore.”
With that, Karia turned away without hesitation. Severing such a fragile bond didn’t cause her even the slightest pause. Upon hearing Karia’s resolute words, Lamia’s blue eyes widened, and thick tears rolled down her cheeks.
Even as Lamia collapsed to the floor, crying out loudly, Karia never once looked back.
“Did it hurt much?”
Karia still hadn’t fully calmed down, her fingers tracing the cheek of Andion. The child’s skin was pale and soft, without a hint of redness, yet she couldn’t stop worrying.
Andion rested his head on her shoulder with a gentle smile, answering in a soft, reassuring voice.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry.”
“But—!”
“I’m stronger than other children. You know that, Mother.”
Hearing Andion say, “I’m not like other children,” Karia stopped in her tracks. Then, as if realizing something belatedly, she let out a small exclamation, “Ah.”
At the same time, the tension in her face melted away. She recalled what she had temporarily forgotten in her immersion in their family play, and a wave of relief washed over her.
“-Ah, right. You and Alice really are different from other children.”
“Mother?”
“I think I got a bit overexcited.”
Karia felt foolish for trembling with anger earlier. She slowly bent down and set Andion gently on the floor. The sudden change in her demeanor made the child look concerned, but Karia hurried along without a word. She didn’t want to linger in her ex-husband’s house any longer than necessary.
“Ah.”
When she, Andion, and Aquil reached the mansion’s entrance, a presence was sensed from the left hallway on the first floor. Turning toward the sound, they saw a boy with blue hair standing there—the little master of the mansion, Cristan Pandeon.
Karia met Cristan’s surprised gaze but quickly turned her head. There was nothing left to say to him now. However, just as she was about to walk away, a hurried voice grabbed her ankle.
“Um…! How… have you been?”
Within the ordinary greeting was a palpable sense of urgency. Hearing the trembling boy’s voice, all three turned their heads.
Aquil reacted merely to the sound, Andion frowned at him, and Karia was genuinely surprised. She had never imagined that Cristan would speak to her first.
“-Weren’t you told to greet me?”
“Ah, yes… that’s right.”
Cristan muttered an unnecessary excuse, glancing at Karia. Somehow, he seemed to want to converse with her.
Karia looked down at the child expressionlessly for a moment and then slowly approached. It wasn’t because she still regarded Cristan as her child or pitied him. It was simply that he was still a child, and as an adult, she had to take responsibility for what she said and observe the minimum courtesy.
“I… have been doing alright. And you? It must be noisy at home these days. Are you keeping up with your studies?”
“I’m glad to hear you’ve been well, Mother… no, um… what should I call you…?”
Cristan, about to call her “Mother,” paused when he noticed the boy holding her hand and looking up at her. He had already learned through whispers that Karia had an illegitimate child.
And the child standing next to her looked exactly like Karia in both face and complexion. Even without a word, Cristan immediately realized who the boy was.
Unlike Cristan, whose hair and eyes inherited a gloomy blue from his father, this boy was unmistakably Karia’s child.
“Call him ‘Marquis Balta.’ That’s what he’s been named.”
“-Understood, Your Excellency Marquis Balta.”
Karia let out a hollow laugh at the fact that Cristan was the only one in the ducal family to properly address her by her correct title.
Others called her simply “Duchess” or “Madam.” The unchanged form of address felt like silent protest, as if they still refused to acknowledge the divorce.
Karia had never liked the Pandeons, but after this ordeal, she deeply understood just how exhausting this wretched family could be.
“It was nice to exchange greetings. Thank you for remembering my words. Stay healthy and well.”
“-Yes.”
“Oh, wait a moment.”
After the formal greetings concluded and the topic fell, Karia thought she could now bid the boy farewell. But then, she noticed a leaf stuck conspicuously in Cristan’s blue hair.
Bending down, she reached out and straightened his messy hair. Cristan flinched slightly at the touch of her slender, gentle fingers.
Even as she turned to leave, her manner was tender. The cautious touch felt excessively warm, and Cristan felt an unexpected surge of emotion in his chest.
“You must have come back from sword practice. It’s best you go in and wash up.”
“-Yes.”
At that moment, Karia’s hand, which had been touching the boy’s hair, froze awkwardly. As she hesitated, all eyes turned toward her face.
Her expression stiffened—but only for an instant. Soon, she withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened.
It wasn’t Cristan who caused the problem. Karia did not hate him enough to avoid simple physical contact. Rather, it was the glimpse of her own skin revealed through her sleeve that caused the issue.
Even though I deliberately wore clothes that didn’t expose my back or shoulders… still a problem. I had forgotten for a while, but there’s no rest for me.
There was the black mark she didn’t want to see—a cursed symptom she had begun herself. It had appeared roughly three weeks after regaining memories of her previous life and visiting the ducal family for the first time.
She had been so busy with other matters that she had completely forgotten about the affliction, but seeing the cursed flame-shaped mark brought reality crashing back.
Thinking of the pain that would follow, she understood the mindset of a prisoner awaiting torture.
At least it doesn’t seem to have reached a regular cycle yet… that’s a small relief.
Deciding she would avoid outfits that exposed her forearms from now on, Karia quickly said her farewells to Cristan. In her bedroom drawer were the painkillers she had received from the orphanage director last time. Not wanting to show any sign of discomfort outside, she was eager to return to the townhouse as quickly as possible.
“-Do you resent me, Your Excellency Marquis Balta? Do you dislike me?”
Unaware of her circumstances, Cristan’s heart sank seeing Karia avoid him. Impulsively, the long-hidden question burst out.
Cristan hated the way his lips moved on their own. What answer did he even hope to hear? How shameless!
Seeing Cristan pale and trembling, Karia furrowed her brow. She couldn’t understand the boy’s intention.
“Why would I resent you?”
“-Because you ignored the situation I was in and pretended not to see.”
“If I had acknowledged it, what could you have done? You were just a child. You can’t ask a child for help. This isn’t your responsibility.”
Cristan had been only three years old when they first met. Was it any different now? The boy, pretending to be mature and using the irritating phrases he learned from his father, was still only nine.
Of course, unlike common children who spent their days playing outside, Cristan had been given more privileges, but there was nothing a nine-year-old could truly take responsibility for.
“You don’t need to feel guilty for a moment. You’re a child. Adults don’t seek help from children. This is not your burden.”
“-Yes. I couldn’t do anything then, and I still can’t do anything now.”
Cristan clenched his fists in frustration and bowed his head deeply. After a long silence, Karia turned her back firmly.
She felt more insulted that Cristan had thought she needed protecting. She also reconsidered how dire her own position in this household truly was.
As Karia walked away with her escort and her son, Cristan lifted his head, gazing at her departing figure with lingering regret.
“But what if I want to see you even though I can’t change anything?”
As the visitors who had stirred the Pandeon household left without a word, Cristan stood frozen in place for quite a long time.
6. The Elf from the Children’s Tales
In the early hours when everyone was asleep, only colorful breaths could be heard in her room. By the window, bathed in the brightest moonlight, a black doll stood silently.
It was hidden within a black robe, as if avoiding the light. Every inch of him—from fingertips to hair—was concealed as he watched the bed. More precisely, he watched the woman lying on it.
His usually sharp, red eyes were hidden beneath his eyelids, and his hands, graceful when speaking or walking, were neatly folded over his stomach.
“-Lady.”
Then a low, honeyed, affectionate voice resonated. She didn’t answer. He had called knowing that no answer would come.
