Chapter 2
Lirette dreamed of the past for the first time in a long while.
When had it been?
It belonged to a distant fragment of time, so faded it had nearly lost all color.
Perhaps it was when her father—the head of Marquis Blewitt’s household—looked at her with warm eyes beneath gentle sunlight. Or perhaps when her mother, mistress of the house, softly called her name.
How old had she been then?
She couldn’t remember exactly, only that it had been long before adulthood.
An age when she still waited for her debutante and coming-of-age ceremony with quiet anticipation—old enough to be a little innocent and a little cunning.
“…”
Lirette slowly opened her eyes.
An unfamiliar ceiling painted with oils greeted her.
Recognizing how weak her body felt—so weak even swallowing hurt—she squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again. Her forehead was damp with sweat. As she lifted a hand, a strange sense of wrongness crept over her.
Her hand felt strange.
Even when she forced her fingers apart, they remained stiff, as though two fingers had fused into one immovable mass.
“Ugh…”
Using rigid hands to brace herself against the sheets, Lirette slowly pushed upright and searched the air with unfocused eyes.
Where am I?
She had never seen this place before.
Had Dailen, in one of his unpredictable whims, completely remodeled everything while she lay bedridden?
No.
There was none of the chaotic taste he favored. The room around her—where she sat alone—was filled with heavy furniture and decorations in subdued colors that somehow didn’t repel her.
Her wandering gaze finally stopped.
“…!”
Her pink eyes—one partially clouded as though scratched—widened in disbelief.
What caught her attention was the large tapestry hanging on the wall.
Lirette rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.
But what she saw didn’t change.
Against a dark reddish-brown background, embroidered in crimson dye, was the crest of the House of Eustutia.
The Eustutia Duchy? Why am I here…?
Without sparing herself time to think logically or assess the situation, she threw off the blankets and stood.
“Ah—!”
She barely managed one proper step before collapsing.
Just as her fingers felt unnaturally stiff, her legs seemed broken too—as though some inborn defect had suddenly claimed them.
Lirette struggled to stand again.
She bit down so hard her lips split open, leaving the faint taste of blood on her tongue.
Still, perhaps her condition had not worsened beyond saving, because she somehow managed to pull herself upright and stagger toward the door.
When she opened it, a long corridor stretched before her.
The inside of the building kept out enough winter cold to remain bearable, yet the silence within felt unnervingly absolute.
Carefully watching her surroundings, Lirette descended the stairs.
Down.
And down again.
This isn’t the Imperial Palace.
After only a few steps, certainty settled in.
This wasn’t the hell she had endured for so long.
Yet if the tapestry meant what she thought it did, then this place—if it truly belonged to House Eustutia—would become another hell no different from the palace where Dailen lived.
She didn’t know why she had awakened here.
She didn’t know how she had arrived.
But she knew one thing.
She couldn’t stay.
As cold silence rushed over her the moment she opened the door, she realized there wasn’t a single soul inside.
Not one servant.
Not one guard.
Because of that, Lirette slipped through the building without interruption.
Like a mouse—careful, quiet, swift.
And when she finally stepped outside, the sight before her rooted her to the spot.
What is this…?
The estate resembled a fortress.
Its grandeur alone was enough to crush people beneath it.
A body of cold stone rose toward the sky, crowned with sharp spires.
Everything about it felt cold.
Proud.
Arrogant.
As though it looked down upon the world itself.
The snow piled atop the blue-gray towers only strengthened that impression.
This wasn’t the time to stare.
A harsh gust of wind snapped her back to herself.
Lirette hurried forward.
Avoiding open spaces, slipping between buildings, she finally spotted a vast forest stretching behind the estate.
She ran for it without hesitation.
“Ugh…!”
Unlike the neatly maintained paths within the estate grounds, the edge of the forest held winter’s cruelty untouched.
Snow that had never melted scraped mercilessly against her bare feet.
Despite its soft appearance, it was freezing enough to make her nerves shrivel.
“Hah… haa…”
Before long, Lirette collapsed against a tree, breathless.
Running in her condition was torture.
Her lungs burned.
Heat surged back through her body.
Her vision blurred, sharpened, blurred again.
Still—
She couldn’t stop.
Not here.
Grinding her teeth, she pushed herself off the tree trunk and forced another step.
“Ah—!”
Then immediately fell.
Her foot caught on a tree root hidden beneath the snow.
Her fragile body plunged face-first into the white.
Cold.
Everything felt cold enough to freeze solid.
She tried to rise.
But her will faded alongside her strength.
Slowly opening her eyes, she saw sunlight filtering through the snow-covered forest.
For so long, while trapped by Dailen and subjected to endless suffering, sunlight like this had been one of the things she longed for most.
Maybe dying here would be better.
Lirette had once made herself a promise.
Never die beside Dailen.
If the day came when she finally breathed her last—
She would not even leave him her corpse.
That single vow had kept alive the life left behind in this world after losing all blood relatives.
That stubborn resolve alone had dragged her forward until now.
Even if all it could do was make her frozen fingers twitch in the snow.
Her vision blurred again.
There was no reason left to endure.
Instead of resisting—
Lirette quietly surrendered.
And closed her eyes.
Bang—!
A gunshot shattered the stillness of the forest.
Woof! Woof!
The barking of hunting dogs followed.
A black figure dashed excitedly across the snowy ground.
Valderion flexed his fingers a few times, dissatisfied with the unfamiliar sensation in his hands.
“Tch.”
Sharp winter wind lashed across his face.
Perhaps because his black hair—usually tied back neatly during training—had been left loose today, the wind toyed freely with it.
Brushing his hair aside, he noticed his hunting dog, Camon, digging its nose into the snow and sniffing furiously.
He dismounted.
“…Hm?”
The sound slipped out before he realized it.
Camon wagged its tail proudly, as though asking for praise.
After rubbing the dog’s glossy head, Valderion crouched.
Then gestured behind him.
He had released several foxes into the woods for shooting practice, and his escorts had remained hidden to avoid interrupting him.
As soon as one of them revealed himself, Valderion nudged the figure lying in the snow with the butt of his rifle.
“This… what’s it doing here?”
He tilted his head.
He had come to the forest because his thoughts were already complicated enough.
Yet the woman who had been peacefully sleeping in the annex bedroom earlier was now collapsed here like a corpse.
He had no idea how.
Still—
He knew exactly what needed to be done.
“Pick her up.”
Knight Tillin obeyed immediately.
After brushing snow off the curled-up figure and lifting her into his arms, Camon barked excitedly around them.
Just as Tillin took a step—
“Your Grace. Her body temperature is dangerously low.”
Valderion clicked his tongue and looked down at her.
Whatever path had brought her here, her condition was terrible.
He gestured.
“Give her here.”
Without question, the woman was transferred into his arms.
There was an old saying about Names.
That strange affliction—
A disease cured through touch.
He had decided to test whether it was true.
Carrying her, he walked toward the horses.
As he glanced down, he noticed something.
The deathly pale complexion slowly—
Very slowly—
Began regaining color.
Only a dozen steps.
And already her condition visibly improved.
“Hah.”
Valderion let out a hollow laugh.
During the ride back to the estate, he realized she was barefoot.
Estimating the distance between the annex and Alter Forest—
He came to one conclusion.
This woman was absurdly stubborn.
And if that assumption proved true—
Then his future was going to become extremely troublesome.
Snowflakes, which he had thought had finally stopped falling, began drifting down once more above the galloping horse.
* * *
Did I have a nightmare?
That was Lirette’s first thought upon waking.
Because otherwise—
How could she explain seeing the same painted ceiling again?
Why?
Hadn’t she escaped?
Hadn’t she collapsed into the snow, waiting for death’s mercy?
She almost wished she had died.
But everything around her felt too vivid.
Too real.
Nothing had changed.
The square table.
The curved flower vase.
The unlit golden candlesticks.
Even the tapestry bearing House Eustutia’s crest.
Taking a shaky breath, Lirette quickly tried climbing out of bed.
Then—
Clink.
Something caught her ankle.
A strange metallic sound came from beneath the blankets.
Freezing, she yanked the covers away.
Wrapped around her ankle—
Was a polished shackle.
