A fresh cream cake topped with strawberries.
Before she became a countess, it was merely a name she’d heard—never something she’d tasted. Burkhardt always tried to give Elizabeth anything precious he could. After work, he would rest his head on her lap and recount the events of his day. He often spoke of foods she’d only heard about in passing, promising to buy them for her someday.

Among them, the one he most longed to give her was cake.

“Beth, when I start making real money, I’ll buy you mountains of that sweet thing they call cake. You love sweet fruits, after all!”

With a smile as fresh as the forest breeze, he spoke in a voice bubbling with childlike excitement.

He said it with a smile.
Burkhardt, wanting to imitate the shape of a cake even if he couldn’t afford the real thing, would gather berries from the hills and fields—cherries, wild raspberries, and sour cherries—and place them atop a dark barley loaf, offering it to her to eat.

Just seeing those beautiful fruits, so much like his heart, filled Elizabeth with joy.
Though it was far from the sweet, soft cake she dreamed of, the hard bread piled with berries tasted better than anything else. It became a memory so precious to her, it felt almost sacred.

Cake had become a symbol for Burkhardt and Elizabeth—a destination of happiness, a driving force in their lives.

The problem began when Count Orte discovered her fondness for it.
He used her child as leverage, demanding teatime with her, and began offering cake to win her favor.

Even on the day he handed her the lifeless child.

To this day, the sight of cake sends her into convulsions. The wound carved into that moment has never healed.

“I’m sorry. The child was born prematurely—of course he was weak… I did everything I could to save him, but it was no use. There’s a sickness going around among children these days.”

That was what Count Orte said as he casually handed over a bundle wrapped in swaddling cloth, during the time Elizabeth was trying to appease him to get her child back.

But surely, the Count already knew.
No matter how much she pretended to open her heart to him, Elizabeth could never truly love him.
A button fastened wrong from the start will always be misaligned.

“Those who live must go on living. How much affection could you have had for a child you never even saw? Eat some cake and soothe your heart. You used to love this cake, didn’t you?”

Count Orte was a truly cruel man.

You denied me even the chance to say goodbye—
and now you expect me to act as if nothing has changed?

I clung to my lifeless child, crying until my voice broke,
and when I turned away, I cried again.
After burying the baby, I tore at my chest,
weeping until there was no water left in my body—only screams.

I cried more than I did when I watched my parents die,
more than when I heard of Burkhardt’s death in battle.
Because in this world, I was the only one who mourned that tiny life.

I shed so many tears I fainted more than once.
In the end, I couldn’t accept the child’s death.
For days, I lived like a madwoman.

How could I forget the moment we shared a body,
when I felt the flutter of life inside me?

“Let’s eat first,” Burkhardt said.
His words jolted Elizabeth like a splash of ice water.

Just then, perhaps having finished emergency treatment,
Burkhardt stood up.
At the same time, Elizabeth grabbed his sleeve.

“…Why? Are you going to accuse me of ignoring your pain?”

“That’s not it.
It’s just… I’m not hungry right now.”

Though Elizabeth pleaded with Burkhardt from the depths of her heart, he responded coldly.

“If you’re refusing to eat, then let’s not drag this out.”

Burkhardt had always been the kind of man who would skip his own meals just to make sure Elizabeth ate.
So she didn’t think he was forcing her to eat out of cruelty.
It was simply that the food prepared—its very scent—was enough to unravel her.

Perhaps thinking she was refusing to eat, Burkhardt gently lifted her from the bed and placed her in the chair by the table.
As the food drew closer, the aroma hit her nose.
Even the sweet scent she so desperately wished to avoid made itself known, mingling with the other dishes.

“Haa… haa…”

Elizabeth drew in short, broken breaths.
Whenever cake came near, her heart would pound so violently she could barely breathe.
And then, like a mirage rising before her eyes, Count Orte began to appear once more…

The vision began to take shape.

“You think you can kill me and live in peace? I’ll curse the rest of your life—forever!”

Count Orte, eyes bloodshot, hurled his curse with a twisted grin.
He’s just a phantom. I have to overcome this.

But knowing that didn’t mean her body would listen.
Just like the day he handed her the child, the Count sat there with a smug expression, scooping mouthfuls of cake as if relieved of a long-standing pain.

Burkhardt couldn’t possibly miss the signs—Elizabeth’s condition was deteriorating rapidly.

“Beth? What’s wrong? Why are you like this?”

Elizabeth trembled violently, her breath hitching in sharp, choking gasps.
Only then did Burkhardt grasp the gravity of the situation.
He turned to the knight standing by and gave a swift command.

“Damn it—clear all this food away. Every bit!”

At Burkhardt’s sharp command, the knight swiftly cleared the table.
The dishes were loaded back onto the trolley, and Burkhardt opened the windows to let the smell out.

But even after the knight left and the room had been aired out for some time, Elizabeth continued to tremble, staring into empty space.
Like someone who had lost her mind.

Burkhardt gently pulled her onto his lap and stroked her back as if soothing a child.

“Beth. It’s okay now. The food’s gone.”

His voice buzzed faintly in her ears, but she couldn’t hear it.
Her throat felt tight. She thought she might die.

As Elizabeth thrashed, Burkhardt wrapped his arms around her, pressing her close to calm her.
Unable to control herself, Elizabeth gripped his arm with all her strength.

She clung to him as if grabbing hold of a lifeline—with every ounce of strength she had.
Her nails dug into his arm without her even realizing it.
All she could do was slam her head against his chest, trying to drive away the phantom of the Count.

Lost in panic and desperation, Elizabeth thrashed helplessly until, at last, she slipped into unconsciousness.
Even then, like a whisper threading through a dream, Burkhardt’s voice reached her:

“It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”