Chapter 59
“The reason is simple. Alvin’s just a fool.”
“…Then, the head chef is the opposite?”
“Yes. If I had to choose the one person in this mansion who angers me the most, it’s definitely Alvin.”
“…Ah…”
Now that I thought about it, that did make sense. The thing Alvin said most often during conversations was “Oops!”
“But he’s kind. That’s the only reason I keep him close.”
Claude lowered his eyelids and lifted his wine glass.
Born a target for assassination from the very start, he must have been surrounded by enemies everywhere.
If he’d chosen Alvin, a clumsy man, as his aide, then maybe the most important thing for him was not competence—but trust.
Did that mean I was also someone he trusted?
The answer wasn’t hard to find.
No. I was using him for my own purposes.
If he hadn’t been the Crown Prince, I never would’ve proposed this contract marriage—or even approached him at all.
Our relationship was based entirely on conditions. There was no such thing as “trust” between us.
To him, I was just a wife for one year.
Suddenly, I felt something soft press against my lips. My dazed thoughts snapped back into place.
“What are you thinking so deeply about?”
Claude gently pulled his own bitten lower lip away with his finger and spoke in a low tone.
“…Was I doing that?”
I looked up in surprise, and his brows slowly drew together.
“I think you should rest. It’s best to stop here for today.”
Without warning, he swept me up into his arms and strode forward.
The sudden change in height made me cling tightly to his chest.
And then—our eyes met with the head chef carrying desserts.
Blinking in surprise, the chef smirked.
“Heading straight to the bedchamber, are we?”
“N-no, that’s not it…”
“I’ll have the desserts packed and sent to your room, then.”
His lips snapped shut when Claude gave the order in a quiet tone.
I darted my eyes nervously, but Claude just kept walking calmly.
“…We’re not really going straight to the bedroom, right?” I asked anxiously.
He lowered his gaze and replied softly, “What do you usually do before bed?”
“…Well, wash up, of course.”
“Then I’ll take you to the bath.”
“…Could you maybe put me down first? I’ll walk on my own.”
Claude’s gaze slid down my slim legs, and his brows furrowed tightly.
“No.”
“…Why not? I have perfectly good legs! If the servants see me carried like this, what will they think?”
At last, I blurted out what I’d been holding back.
Claude looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head.
“I can’t. It’s too risky.”
“…Risky? What could possibly be risky about me walking?”
“You looked exhausted earlier. What if those thin legs gave out and you collapsed?”
My eyes widened.
Was I hearing this right?
At the wedding too, he had carried me protectively—did that mean…?
“…Your Highness, do you… like me?”
“…”
The words slipped out before I could stop myself.
Strangely enough, I almost hoped he’d deny it—at least that would clear the air.
In the awkward silence, Claude finally answered in a quiet voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous. If something happened to you, who would treat me?”
“….”
“My illness must be completely cured. That’s the purpose of this arrangement. Don’t say nonsense again.”
His face hardened instantly.
Of course.
I wasn’t special—just his personal pharmacist.
The tension inside me deflated like air from a balloon, leaving me oddly lighter.
“…I understand. I’ll keep that in mind.”
I forced a bright smile and met his eyes. His earlobes turned faintly red.
Was he… cold? The wind sneaking in through the hallway windows was sharp and biting.
By the time I noticed, we’d arrived at the room.
I entered the bath, where maids immediately untied my pinned-up hair.
Through the cracked door, I caught Claude’s gaze for a brief second—then he quickly turned away, ears redder than before.
The Next Morning
Was it morning already?
I stretched with a yawn. Sunlight spilled warmly across the room.
Unlike the drafty, freezing ducal mansion—where even a lit fireplace left my nose cold—this place was heaven.
With a well-built room and a roaring fire, it was cozy and warm.
I glanced at the fireplace, still crackling, then touched the empty spot beside me.
Last night, I had fallen asleep waiting for Claude after my bath.
Had it been a dream? I thought I felt him lie down beside me sometime during the night.
Shaking my head, I opened the curtains.
Outside, Claude was surrounded by Silver and the wolves, feeding them and stroking their fur.
The morning sun shattered into golden pieces around his tall frame and strong build.
Even from here, he looked impossibly handsome.
I stared without thinking—until he turned his head toward me.
I gasped, yanked the curtain shut, and spun away.
In the mirror, my reflection revealed a flustered girl, cheeks flushed red.
As if… I was in love.
Impossible.
Love? Me?
After being ruined by a man in my past life?
I clenched my fists like I was facing an enemy.
“No. There’s no such thing as love in my life. Got it?”
“…Why be so dramatic? Claude isn’t like Alex. He’s handsome, considerate… and he’s been very kind to you lately.”
“What nonsense? He told me himself—it’s only because I’m his pharmacist.”
“…Maybe he didn’t mean it. He doesn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow at other women. Only you.”
“Stop. Enough! Even if I die, I won’t fall in love this time!”
“…Fall in love with who?”
I froze.
Anna stood right in front of me, blinking curiously.
When had she come in? The door was half open behind her.
I coughed awkwardly. “Ah… I meant exercising. I was saying it’s too hard, so I can’t do it.”
“…Oh. Forgive me, My Lady.” Anna bowed. “His Highness sent me with a message. I knocked for some time, but you didn’t answer, so I came in. I thought I heard voices—are you well?”
She must have overheard me muttering to myself.
Talking aloud helped me organize my thoughts—but to others, it must seem odd, even scary.
“I’m fine. What was His Highness’s message?”
“He said he’ll be at the cathedral today for the memorial service. He may be late, but he’ll be back for dinner, so if there’s something you’d like, you can tell the chef.”
I nodded, recalling Alvin’s words.
The memorial for the late Empress and Princess Flora… So it was today.
Maybe Claude hadn’t told me because he didn’t want his “pretend wife” involved.
The thought left me uneasy.
“I was planning to go out today anyway. Anna, could you prepare a black dress for me?”
“Yes, My Lady.”
As she went into the dressing room, I gazed out the window.
White irises swayed softly in the breeze.
At Princess Flora’s Grave
I placed a bouquet of white irises before a weathered headstone.
Raindrops trickled down, beading like jewels on the petals.
I had heard that after the Empress died, Princess Flora passed away just a week later.
And yet, for some reason, no proper funeral was ever held.
Because the two deaths happened so close together, people kept silent—and Flora was buried quietly, all alone.
I raised my head, black veil fluttering in the wind.
Looking at her solitary grave among withered wildflowers reminded me of my mother.
Their death anniversaries were the same. That surprised me.
If Princess Flora had lived, could we have been good friends?
Lost in thought, I looked up at the sky. Dark clouds gathered overhead, promising heavy rain.
I meant only to stop by before visiting my mother’s grave, so I turned to leave quickly—
But then, footsteps echoed behind me.
