“Do you not understand what I’m saying? You’re really going to die.”

“I know. That might happen.”

Cain’s gaze now looked at her like she was something bizarre and abnormal.

She knew too. Love wasn’t always sweet and beautiful, but even so, what she harbored was far from normal affection. A self-destructive, deformed emotion—cutting off her own flesh to hand over.

But that was the only kind of love this ignorant woman knew how to give.

“I’ve never told anyone this before…”

The woman, empty in a different sense than when she was ill, confessed quietly.

“I’m actually not afraid of dying.”

“…”

“It doesn’t feel uncomfortable or even unfamiliar.”

Death comes to everyone, but people don’t truly grasp it until right before it arrives. 

They just live pretending not to see, pretending not to know. It was natural. Because the end is frightening. She too must have been afraid like normal people once upon a time.

‘Is today the last day? Will I be alive when the next volume of the book I’m reading comes out? If it hurts this much now, how much more will it hurt when I die? I hate feeling suffocated—will I be trapped in a small coffin and buried in cold earth? Or will I be burned and turned to ash?’

Just imagining the end made her chest tighten with fear. But even that grew dull with repetition.

It hurt so much, was so agonizing, so painful. After crying through countless nights until she was drained, when tears finally stopped coming and she could no longer feel hunger or sleepiness, she simply wished for peace. She wished for the end to come.

She couldn’t count how many nights she’d grabbed the doctor and begged him to stop this pain, and if that was impossible, to just kill her instead.

So when that final moment finally came, it was so peaceful, and she no longer had to wake from light sleep to spend long dawns in hellish agony—that’s why death stopped being frightening.

“I stopped being afraid.”

Gloomy eyes, a mass of long suffering, despair, and resignation, stared at Cain.

“So you don’t need to worry about me. Mother wouldn’t have asked you to do that much anyway.”

Chartia smiled faintly, showing no trace of the emotion she’d just displayed, and walked past him. She climbed onto the bed like a corpse entering a coffin and buried her body there like luggage.

Though the pain tormented her terribly, just like the past, she stubbornly closed her eyes. Like those countless dawns long ago.

* * *

Her first trip ended in the worst possible way. 

The Grand Duke, having achieved his objective, left immediately, and Cain, who had cast healing magic on her multiple times despite her stubbornness, left next.

Only the next day did the remaining party begin packing. It was an earlier departure than planned, but truthfully there was neither reason nor leisure to stay longer.

‘Besides, Julian has recovered somewhat.’

The mage the Grand Duke had supposedly summoned only arrived around the time they finished preparing to leave. If they’d waited for him, Julian might have taken a serious turn for the worse. Thinking that made her even angrier.

In any case, Chartia secretly asked the elderly light mage, whose reason for being there had disappeared, for help. But he seemed unaware of the black magic’s identity or how to purify it. She had no choice but to request general purification magic, but the effect was minimal.

Still, she managed to recover enough not to cough up blood.

‘This should let me endure until we reach the estate.’

She carefully layered on long clothes that reached her wrists and ankles, then applied light makeup over her bloodless face. 

Looking reasonably normal, she boarded the carriage heading back. Across from her sat Julian, awkwardly positioned there after being pushed by his subordinates’ concerns.

Soon the carriage departed. Each time it jolted, her entire body throbbed like she’d been beaten, but she maintained her posture rigidly. She even managed to smile at him calmly.

But perhaps that effort was clumsy. Julian’s gaze lingered on her attentively throughout. Just as she clenched her trembling hands unnecessarily, he suddenly spoke.

“May I ask you one thing?”

“Yes?”

“After I lost consciousness that day, when I opened my eyes again, I was in my room. The person who helped me—could it have been…”

“It was Rosé. I was so shocked I immediately asked Rosé for help.”

She buried the truth of that day and spoke lies instead.

He believed Rosé was the one who saved his life. There was no need to mention her own contribution and ruin things like with Jeffrey before.

“Then you haven’t visited my room since?”

“…That’s right. I can’t use healing magic.”

The fact that Julian had been hurt by black magic and only a light mage could heal it was a secret known only to her and, for some reason, the Grand Duke. He simply nodded, believing he’d been healed by ordinary healing magic.

“I see.”

Having gotten his answer, seemingly just curious, he turned his gaze toward the window.

The man who smiled like sunshine would cast a gaze like barren winter somewhere when waiting alone, when the surroundings suddenly grew quiet, and when lost in thought.

What memories, what person lingered at the end of that gaze? She sometimes wondered, but one thing was certain. In any case, she wouldn’t be there.

Chartia turned her head to the opposite window. In the silence, she watched his profile reflected in the carriage window for a long time.

* * *

As soon as she returned safely to the estate, Chartia collapsed severely ill again. Since Mother would be shocked to see her condition, she made excuses that she was simply bedridden from travel fatigue.

Several days passed while she lived on painkillers and sleeping pills. Finally, she recovered enough to take a walk in the garden in front of the house.

‘But if I’m going to receive these looks, I should have just stayed quietly in my room.’

Passing maids, servants, and even gardeners glanced at her sideways. Some looked at her with pity, others with sharp gazes. Amid those stares, Chartia reflected on a rumor she’d accidentally overheard a few days ago.

[I heard there’s been talk lately that Young Duke Chester and our second young lady’s relationship is quite serious—is it true?]

[What? Wasn’t the first young lady his fiancée?]

[But there are tons of witnesses who’ve seen them together, right? Plus, that engagement was forced by His Majesty the Emperor! If it’s a union between families anyway, doesn’t it not matter if the partner changes?]

[Still, isn’t that a bit much?]

[Hey, you think that’s all? Actually, the Young Duke’s original engagement partner was supposed to be the second young lady!]

[My goodness, so if it weren’t for the first young lady, they could have been together from the start?]

[Exactly! They recognized each other like destiny despite the adversity! Doesn’t it sound like a novel?]

Among the noisily chattering maids, Chartia quietly left.

She’d suddenly become an interloper who didn’t know her place and had stolen her younger sister’s position.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t wrong, so she didn’t feel particularly wronged or angry. She just tried to ignore the stinging feeling and be happy about their developing relationship.

‘This really is good.’

If the interloper disappeared and their love came to fruition, at least the tragedy of his death could be avoided. Of course, the Grand Duchess’s rebellion remained a major obstacle…

Actually, future problems were problems, but the immediate reality was more urgent. Namely, Rosé.

Since returning to the capital, it had become difficult to meet her. No, to be precise, she was being rejected.

No matter how large the house, they lived under one roof, so they did encounter each other. But Rosenia ignored Chartia like a ghost and passed by. 

Even when she followed on trembling legs to apologize, she was refused at the door. The gift she brought after much deliberation, containing her apology, was even miserably discarded before her eyes.

In the past, she’d only thought of her own position and made Rosenia suffer, so she was in the wrong, but…

She was bewildered.

She didn’t know this cold side of her. She didn’t know how to repair a broken relationship. She’d never had the experience of building a relationship worth breaking in the first place. Though painfully inept, Chartia didn’t want to give up on her relationship with Rosé.

So she sought her out again, even enduring the servants’ glares.

Of course, she was turned away at the door again.

“I apologize. She has a busy schedule today and won’t be able to meet you.”

“…I see. Then when might she have time? Even 5 minutes, no, even 1 minute would be fine…”

Rosé’s attendant aide gave an awkward smile. It was a gentle refusal that she couldn’t spare even 1 second, let alone 1 minute.

‘Being more insistent would just be a nuisance.’

Just as Chartia sighed softly and turned to leave weakly, she suddenly heard Rosé’s voice from inside the room.

“Betty, it’s fine. Let her in.”

As soon as the words fell, the aide who’d been standing firm like a wall stepped aside from the door. After freezing briefly at the suddenly granted opportunity, Chartia soon slowly stepped inside.

Still suffering aftereffects, sweat beaded on her spine and forehead from just this much movement. Chartia roughly wiped the cold sweat with the back of her hand and stood before her.

Rosenia seemed to be preparing to go out, wearing a glamorous dress instead of her usual comfortable clothes. Rosenia irritably swept back her luxuriantly flowing hair and looked straight at her.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

Normally she would have invited her to sit first. She must still be quite angry. Chartia sighed inwardly and hesitantly opened her mouth.

“Saying I fully understand your anger would definitely be a lie. But I do know the reason lies entirely with me.”

She’d thought many times about why Rosenia, who’d been generously kind to her, was acting so coldly. And she soon realized she’d only received from Rosé without ever giving.

Despite being so delighted and proud that a child like Rosé was her younger sister. She’d never set an example as an older sister, never even done anything helpful for her. What a deceitful attitude.

“I just came to apologize.”

“…”

“I’m sorry. Because you were always considerate, I think I took it for granted and made requests as though it were natural. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry.”

The voice pointing out her wrongs held no hesitation, was sincere, and simultaneously unstable.

After a brief silence, the other party drew a cold line.

“You don’t need to apologize to me anymore.”

“…Rosé.”

The dry gaze that had been rolling on the floor crumbled with a rustle. In that place left only with debris, Chartia forgot all the words she’d stored up.

“Would you please leave now? Unlike you, I’m not at leisure.”

She could no longer even offer an apology. Knowing her efforts might be very uncomfortable and perhaps even painful for Rosé made even that feel like greed.

“…All right. You must have an appointment. Sorry for taking your time.”

She hadn’t come seeking her repeatedly to beg for forgiveness in the first place. Chartia, who discarded her feelings as easily as throwing out trash, turned around without complaint.

Then Rosenia added.

“That’s right. I’m meeting Julian.”

“…I see.”

“That’s fine, right? Since it’s an engagement that’ll be canceled anyway if you have a plan?”

She blinked slowly at the unexpected jab.

Rosenia, persistently examining her expression, seemed like someone hoping Chartia would grimace or get angry. But she’d already heard the rumors about the two of them.

‘So it’s not just rumors—they really are getting along well.’

It would be a lie to say she didn’t feel a pang at this confirmation, but regardless, she clearly knew her role and what she had to do going forward.

Let go, step aside, accept, and keep silent.

Chartia let go of her emotions, stepped aside, and silently accepted.

“Yes, that’s right.”

So you don’t need to worry at all.

She even nodded firmly to convey that meaning. But Rosenia seemed even more displeased. Her neat eyebrows twisted subtly.

Her red lips pressed between her teeth showed no sign of opening further. Reading the mood, Chartia realized now was the timing to exit cleanly.

“Then I’ll be going.”

From this place, and from ‘that’ place too.