Cordelia awoke in a dream far too familiar by now.

Perhaps it was because she had fainted after coming face-to-face with a horse, but she found herself once more back in the year she was eighteen, the year of that terrible accident.

And before her, Luke was clutching her hand, pleading earnestly.

“My lady, you must never forget me.”

“……”

“You absolutely mustn’t marry the Duke of Berkeley and leave me behind, my lady.”

‘Did something like this ever really happen to me?’

But simply being in this moment again made it hard to breathe. Her chest ached, as if her lungs were filled with scorching tears, suffocating her.

And so she couldn’t say what she wanted to. She could only inhale and exhale in short, shallow gasps.

Luke, don’t go.

That’s what she needed to say.

“So that you won’t have to suffer, I’ll go ahead first. Alright?”

No, don’t go! Just stay with me. I’ll go with you instead. The suffering you’re talking about? If you’re by my side, I can endure it, and it won’t be so bad.

And yet, how laughable. Even now, not a single tear fell from her eyes. Not a single word came out.

Outside Hastings Manor, where she had spent her childhood, the oak trees swayed in the night wind. Only when the moonlight filtered through the dark leaves did she finally see his face clearly.

The boy whose features had remained blurred in shadow until now.

“I love you, my lady.”

Luke Davis had the same face as her husband.

***

“You son of a b*tch.”

Lucas looked down at his own fist, face twisted with irritation.

The skin was torn open, bleeding freely.

He’d heard what sounded like a horse’s cry in the vast lakeside park—but dismissed it as his imagination.

But once something got under his skin, he just couldn’t shake it. So, without another word, he turned and began making his way toward the building where Cordelia was supposed to be.

“Lucas? Where are you going?”

“Just wait a moment, Roderick.”

Lucas had left an important figure behind—only to find that a horse had indeed been trotting loose through the darkened garden.

Just then, William, who had followed after him, caught sight of Lucas’s bloodied hand and gasped in horror.

“Whoa—hey, hey, Lucas, are you okay?”

“The damned security were too busy gawking—”

“Ghk.”

The murderous edge in Lucas’s voice made William clamp his mouth shut at once.

Lucas glared down at the horse he had just subdued, grinding his teeth. It hadn’t gone down easily. He’d had to shoot it in the leg, and it had still thrashed around so violently that he’d injured his hand trying to restrain it.

But ever since he saw the beast chasing Cordelia, everything had looked red to him. He hadn’t even felt the pain.

He fixed the nearby senior officer with his cold, razor-sharp gaze. The officer was as pale as a sheet. Decked out in their shiny uniforms, these fools never got anything right.

“Find out exactly whose scheme this was. Right now.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“And every officer assigned to this sector tonight—tell them they’d better be ready to die at my hands.”

“Y… Yes, sir…”

The officer could barely manage to respond, swallowing his shame. What power could a mere officer possibly have against the wealthy Duquesne family?

Besides, all the staff knew how vicious Lucas Duquesne’s temper could be.

“Where is my wife now?”

“She was brought into the rest house by her maid, sir. It seems she fainted from the shock.”

“…Hah.”

“Mr. Duquesne, your hand—”

Lucas irritably yanked out a handkerchief and wrapped it roughly around his bleeding hand, then shoved it into his pocket.

He had no interest in putting on a show over some minor injury—like a certain breed of men who cried over a scraped knee.

To Lucas, such displays were pathetic. Wounds would heal, as long as you didn’t die.

When he entered the rest room, he found Cordelia lying weakly on a chaise longue, her body slumped in quiet misery.

She must’ve rolled and fallen in the dark—her gown couldn’t hide the bruises scattered across her pale skin. The worst had been covered with bandages, but her complexion was so fair that even minor marks stood out starkly.

Lucas’s jaw tensed, a faint tendon pulsing beneath his cheek. She could be exasperating, even infuriating at times, but hurt?

That was something else entirely.

“Cordelia, are you alright?”

Lucas reached out a hand toward Cordelia. But the moment he did, her expression darkened further. Her shoulders tensed, and she didn’t just turn her head—she shifted her entire upper body to face away from him.

“…That’s enough.”

“I heard you fainted.”

“I’m really fine.”

Cordelia refused to face him, no matter what.

Lucas let out a short, frustrated sigh.

“My lady. Don’t tell me you’re upset because I came late?”

‘You’re the one ignoring me now? When you’re the one who’s acted like nothing ever happened between us?’
‘Am I supposed to humiliate myself by explaining I was delayed because I had to subdue that damned horse?’

Irritated, he pressed her, and at last Cordelia spoke, her voice cool and distant.

“Of course not. Why would I be upset? I’m just… still shaken, that’s all.”

“…Sure.”

Yes, anyone would be scared if they were charged at by a wild beast in the dark. He could understand that. But then his gaze fell upon a piece of clothing draped over a nearby stool.

It was a man’s coat, and clearly not his.

“…What’s this, my lady?”

“Mr. Reginald’s jacket.”

“……”

“He came when he heard me scream. I was too disoriented to return it properly.”

‘That bookworm?’

Lucas’s face twisted in a grimace. Of all people, that guy had found Cordelia first.

He could picture it perfectly—Reginald with his soft, docile face, frantically searching for Cordelia in a panic, desperate for her.

Lucas couldn’t stop the sarcasm from slipping into his tone as he looked at her, still refusing to meet his eyes.

‘Look at me. I’m the one who saved you.’

“How convenient, isn’t it? For the man you’ve set your heart on to be the first to come to your rescue.”

“……”

“Has the suspension bridge effect kicked in, my lady?”

Cordelia turned her body away completely. Like someone praying in silence against the malice of the world, she seemed both fragile and unyielding.

“Go back, Lucas. You had an important guest, didn’t you?”

“……”

“Please let Father know everything’s fine. There’s no need to cause a stir on such a nice evening.”

‘What a dutiful daughter-in-law.’

Lucas scoffed inwardly and stood up straight. She might be pretending to push him away, but she was still his wife. She was still bound to him.

Nevertheless, her cold rejection cut him to the bone. The pain was sharp, like the mark an animal leaves when it tears into flesh.

Seeing all the bandages clinging to her delicate skin, Lucas forced himself to swallow the rising anger in his throat. Despite everything, Cordelia still mattered to him.

Now, her importance was largely dependent on how well she fulfilled her role as a ‘nobleman’s wife’.

“Very well, my lady. Since you seem so upset that your husband arrived late, I’ll take my leave.”

“……”

“Stay as long as you like, then go home ahead of me. And if you feel like playing with Reginald again, do be kind enough to notify me first.”

Lucas turned away from his injured wife, feeling fed up and disgusted. He couldn’t take out his frustration on her, so he decided to find a more productive way to vent it.

For instance, by tracking down everyone involved with that damn horse and crushing them all.

***

Even when Lucas delivered his final blow, Cordelia never once looked back at him.

This was partly because she was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions.

Disappointment. Contempt. Regret. And more disappointment.

But more than anything, there was a deeper reason why she turned her back on Lucas and treated him so coldly after she came to.

Only once he had left completely did she finally raise a trembling hand to her face.

Her palm was clammy with cold sweat.

“…What is this?”

During her fainting spell, for the first time, her childhood memories had returned, clear, complete, without the usual haze or distortion.

Why had they come back so vividly, all of a sudden?

Was it the fear triggered by the horse?

‘Is this what Caroline meant by a sudden trigger unlocking forgotten memories?’

Maybe it was because the situation mirrored what had happened when she was eighteen, so much so that the parallel had jolted something deep within her.

‘Was that why—for the first time ever—I saw Luke Davis’s face so clearly?’

But then… why did he have her husband’s face?

‘That makes no sense. Am I remembering it wrong?’

There was no logical connection between her husband and that seventeen-year-old servant from the Hadrian Empire…

‘And what’s more—in that memory, Luke and I… we looked like lovers.’