WTDP~14

Chapter 14

At last, the snow had begun to melt.

The signs of thaw felt like the arrival of spring itself. The white frost that had clung stubbornly to the spires, as if frozen in place, began to fracture day by day, crumbling away in brittle pieces. Within a week, it looked as though it would be forced into retreat under the relentless blaze of noon sunlight.

Sunlight poured into the ducal estate, illuminating everything without exception—the east, west, north, and south wings of the buildings, the garden filling the spaces between them, and even the Altair Forest embracing the outer edges in a soft glow.

Everything, that is, except one place.

Rilette set down her plate, still not even half empty, and took a sip of water. She placed the silver cutlery down and leaned back against the chair. At her feet, the dazzling light of day spilled in like flowing water.

Of course, light did enter this place too.

And yet, from Rilette’s perspective, it was neither bright nor clear.

There really is only that option left.

As she shifted her gaze toward the window, something—almost as if to confirm her thoughts—caught her eye.

As always, the maids hurried about in brisk, efficient steps.

Rilette rose from the sofa and walked to the window. It wasn’t their presence itself that drew her attention, but the fact that they could move freely outside. That freedom lodged itself deep in her chest.

One year.

The crucial question of the promised year was whether the Name would become mutual—or remain one-sided.

She couldn’t be certain of either outcome. There was always the possibility that he, like her, might manifest a Name. Or the opposite might also be true.

If it did become mutual, there would be much to consider. But if it remained one-sided, the conclusion was almost absurdly simple.

She would simply have to leave Valderion’s side.

Given the stakes of her situation, she could not afford to sit idly by while the future approached.

Until now, she had survived—barely—by Dailen’s side.

She had finally escaped him, but freedom was never guaranteed even within Valderion’s grasp.

However, if one year passed without issue…

If Valderion truly allowed her to go free…

Then, even if it was only half a freedom, she would regain it.

Not in Dailen’s hands, who made her want to strangle him, nor in Valderion’s, whose arrogance made her sick.

Of course, it would not be an easy path.

A Name—this curse, this brand—had been placed upon her like a burden.

It would follow her to the very end of her life, choking her throat, tormenting her, eroding her mind and body little by little.

And yet, if it led her to death…

Then even that final moment should belong to freedom.

Shouldn’t the final breath of a human being—one whose will still existed—be allowed dignity?

Thus, over the past few days, Rilette had turned the matter over endlessly in her mind and reached a simple conclusion.

Money, an escape route, and information about the Name were necessary.

If Valderion fulfilled his promise and released her, she intended to leave the empire without ever looking back.

It was not an easy decision, considering it was the land where she had been born and raised. But she had no remaining family ties here. With nowhere to rely on, it made little difference whether she stayed or left—loneliness would follow either way.

But there was something else that worried her more.

Dailen…

What if he came looking for her again?

She knew him well enough to understand his nature. His temperament changed like boiling water—unpredictable, volatile. He had once sent her directly into Valderion’s hands without hesitation, but if he later discovered that the Name had remained one-sided, curiosity might strike him again. And just like that, he might try to take her back as if nothing had ever happened.

Her teeth ground together without her noticing.

I finally escaped from him.

She could never return to that vile, repulsive man.

To prepare for him, she needed an escape route from this place—the Duke’s estate of Justitia.

Even if she had to live the rest of her life being chased, it would still be better than returning to Dailen.

That was why money and an escape plan were essential.

And lastly, investigation into the Name.

Once manifested, a Name could never be removed. Even if one tore off the skin, it would be meaningless. It was a brand—an irreversible mark.

Rilette could never abandon his Name. It was something forced upon her, something she could neither choose nor discard.

She felt an urge to spit at whatever god had created such a cruel joke.

But blaming it was not the priority.

If she wanted even a few more years of survival, she needed to learn everything she could—whether the Name truly required the presence of its owner, whether absence meant only suffering and nothing more.

Rilette turned her gaze to the maids once more.

For now… that seems like the best option.

A maid.

A servant employed by the estate, receiving wages.

Someone who could earn money, move around the estate, observe routes leading outside, and—if fortunate—gain access to the library.

Though they would never allow it…

Even if she found a method, nothing would go smoothly.

Since arriving here, every attempt she made required overcoming the largest obstacle first.

Her head already throbbed as if she had argued for hours.

And yet, she could not delay any longer. Ever since she learned she might only have five years left to live, every passing day felt unbearably precious.

That evening.

“I plan to quietly focus on recovering my health for the agreed one year,” Rilette said the moment he stepped into the bedroom.

Her tone was resolute, as if she had already steeled her determination. Valderion’s expression, however, carried more suspicion than approval.

“That’s a surprisingly decent mindset.”

“But I have a condition.”

“A condition?”

“Yes. I want to work as a servant in the estate.”

Of course.

Valderion’s expression seemed to say exactly that.

He rubbed his temple as he sat down on the sofa.

“I told you not to think like that.”

Rilette had long since learned that he did this whenever his head ached.

“You want to work?”

“…”

“Are you sure your ears are functioning properly? Or is there something wrong with your limbs now as well as your brain?”

His mockery was merciless.

Rilette swallowed back her usual retort with difficulty.

But—

“Denied.”

The word cut everything off before she could even begin.

“Why are you rejecting it without even discussing it properly?” she snapped.

“Do you truly not understand why I ask that?” he replied coldly.

“….”

“Your face alone stands out too much.”

Now she understood completely.

The remaining doubt in her mind vanished entirely.

He was trying to hide her.

“To be honest, I understand why you want to conceal me for a year,” Rilette said evenly. “Of course you would.”

Names were extremely rare, and especially dangerous when mutual. They allowed both parties to sense each other’s condition, which could become a fatal weakness.

If one of the pair was of high status—like the man before her—there would always be those who might try to abduct or harm the other. Such incidents had already occurred in other nations.

It was a matter that could easily escalate into political scandal—or worse.

Valderion was likely trying to ensure maximum safety.

Rilette took a slow breath in, then exhaled.

“But… what does that have to do with me?”

Valderion’s expression, which had been calmly listening, stiffened slightly.

The temperature in his golden eyes dropped.

“Your attempt to preserve your position has nothing to do with me,” she continued.

“Hey.”

“You’re only hiding me for your own sake.”

He understood her meaning immediately.

That’s your problem, not mine.

“So you’re threatening me now?” he asked.

“Does it sound like a threat?” she replied.

“Unfortunately, not even close.”

He leaned back slightly, looking up at her.

The angle of his gaze made it feel sharper than usual. His long, hollowed eyes shimmered faintly, like something that could tear into her throat if she looked away for even a moment.

“You should know your place before you challenge someone,” he said.

“….”

“Otherwise, it’s just ugly stubbornness.”

“Ugly stubbornness is fine,” she said. “If it means I can leave this place and work.”

“….”

“Please reconsider—with a broader heart.”

A broader heart.

Valderion understood her sarcasm without effort.

A short, breathless laugh escaped him.

“And if there is no room for reconsideration?”

“Then I’ll do it my way.”

“Your way?”