“Irynsis!”

Lomia cried out in alarm, but Irynsis didn’t even blink.

“My apologies. Base instincts are hard to fix—I acted without thinking.”

So really, you should’ve been more careful. It’s not something I can control at will, after all.

“Y-You!”

The noblewoman whose dress had been ruined began to shriek.

“Sorry, Lomia. Before I cause any more trouble, I’d better go reflect somewhere.”

“Irynsis, stop right there!”

Whether Lomia called out or not, Irynsis didn’t look back.

She was starting to feel a bit anxious—not seeing Cassion in the ballroom.

She had to confirm whether he hadn’t come at all or if he’d gone straight to the garden and was waiting there.

“Sir Herzen, stop my sister!”

Before the words had even finished leaving Lomia’s lips, Laurel, who had been standing at her side, stepped in to block Irynsis’s path.

“This is improper conduct.”

His face was like that of a machine that moved only on the saintess’s command. Irynsis let out a breath of laughter, utterly exasperated.

Laurel Herzen had been dispatched from the temple to Cambria after Lomia was officially recognized as a saintess, under the pretense of protecting her safety.

With his tall figure, broad shoulders, and clean-cut features, he was quite popular among women. Yet he believed his sole duty in life was to serve the saintess.

Some women were even more obsessed with him because of his asceticism, while others simply admired the graceful figure he cut beside the saintess.

There had been a time, long ago, when Irynsis had looked at him that way too—at least until the sword she had once chosen as an ally pierced through her heart during her first regression.

“So I said I was going to reflect, didn’t I?”

Now, he was just an annoyance. Even the sight of him irritated her.

“Irynsis.”

“So then, what they did to me—was that proper conduct?”

At that, Laurel was momentarily speechless.

Not missing the brief opening, Irynsis swept past him.

Her white veil fluttered, sending a breeze toward the crowd. And with footsteps as light as the feathers carried by that breeze, she gracefully exited the ballroom.

***

The moment she stepped outside, cold air surged over her body. 

The veil before her eyes whipped wildly in the wind. With a sharp breath, Irynsis pushed it back behind her head.

Her steps toward the garden carried a clear sense of urgency.

What if he really didn’t come because he couldn’t trust me? What should I say to convince him? Maybe I should’ve gone with threats instead.

Her mind was a swirl of tangled thoughts when.

“You really did come.”

Like a crashing wave scattering sand, his voice swept past her ear, calming all the chaos inside her.

“Hey?”

Cassion let out a faint, sardonic smile, dissolving into the smoke of his cigar.

“That ghostly getup from the first day finally makes sense now.”

He had only now realized what the infamous attire of Cambria’s adopted daughter truly meant.

“Oh, this?”

Irynsis clicked her tongue as she swatted the white veil—which tangled around her long hair—like an annoying insect.

She flung it over the back of her head, but the trailing fabric was a constant nuisance.

“Well, I do have quite the reputation.”

At that, Cassion let out a quiet chuckle. It was true.

The foreign-born sister, veiled and standing behind the saintess, had always been an amusing topic of gossip.

As the plague thinned the labor force day by day, the Imperial Family had begun to reconsider the very foreigners they once discriminated against.

And so, a hollow, performative law banning discrimination against foreigners was enacted.

Leading the charge, of course, was none other than Marquis Cambria—who had adopted a foreign girl.

Irynsis’s sudden and meteoric rise in status, which drew everyone’s envy, became widely known.

They said she was so hideous it was painful to look at her, that she repaid Cambria’s kindness by treating the saintess with cruelty. All sorts of rumors followed.

“I was so pleased with the article tearing Tod Cambria apart, I brought quite the extravagant return gift.”

Cassion said, straightening from where he had been leaning, a new cigar between his lips.

“But I’m not sure if I’m ready to form an alliance with someone so notorious.”

As she quietly watched him, Irynsis opened her mouth.

“Just one puff.”

The steps that had been walking toward her came to a sudden halt.

Cassion’s gaze slowly rolled along her face, tracing the line of her piercing blue eyes—until it landed exactly where she was looking.

At the lit end of the cigar he had just been about to spark.

“What?”

The question carried the nuance of You mean this?

Irynsis nodded.

In her previous life, Cassion always had a cigar in his mouth—a futile attempt to dull the pain brought on by the plague.

Yet, whenever she treated him, he would go out for a walk to air out the smell—a pointless gesture, but a considerate one nonetheless.

Since this was still the early stage of the illness, he must not have been smoking for long.

That thought suddenly made her curious.

“Am I not allowed?”

In the world she had left behind—where she couldn’t save him—how many cigars had he smoked before the end?

What had they tasted like?

“Do you even know how?”

“I’m planning to learn. Starting now.”

“Well, if you want.”

The warmth of a stranger pressed close
against the chill beneath her thin clothes.

Between the delicate lengths of Irynsis’s lowered lashes, Cassion’s shadow slipped in.

His gaze swept over her—this girl who didn’t flinch in the slightest—as if finding her strangely fascinating.

He wanted to see her a little closer.

“You’ve still got bruises on your face.”

They’d faded since the first day he saw her, but several still looked painful. Her body seemed to be darkening with decay—yet her eyes burned just as vividly blue as they had when they first met.

Blue flames danced in her gaze, and golden eyes, holding the moon within them, stared straight back.

The cigar, marked with the imprint of Cassion’s teeth, lightly tapped against Irynsis’s lips.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeyed without a word.

The end of the cigar, still warm from his mouth, slid between her lips.

Cassion had meant to light it for her—but suddenly, a strange impulse overtook him.

Instead of reaching for fire, he cut the tip of a new cigar and placed it between his own lips.

With a sharp strike and a flickering sound, the match hissed, glowing red at the end of his cigar.

Cassion exhaled smoke with a low breath, then leaned forward.

“My last match.”

His hair brushed softly against her forehead, and from his mouth to hers, the flame passed between cigars.

Cassion let out a quiet chuckle as he watched Irynsis stand there, cigar in mouth, unmoving.

“You’re supposed to inhale.”

“Mhm.”

She gave a short nod at his instruction to exhale through her nose, then took a deep breath in.

“Mm— cough, cough!”

Before the inhale could even reach the back of her throat, she was already coughing it back out. A fit of sharp coughs wracked her body, tears welling up in her eyes.

Her vision blurred, and her head felt hazy and light.

Even so, she managed to catch the arrogant smile of the man watching her, his lips curled upward in amusement.

Annoyed by that smirk, Irynsis grumbled in irritation.

“You’re a pervert.”

The words came out with ragged breath, and Cassion raised a brow.

“Who are you calling a pervert—”

“Why the hell do you smoke something like this?”

She cut him off, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It had been a pointless curiosity. She should’ve left the past where it belonged.

“You’re not just a pervert—you’re a certified one.”

“Hey now.”

Despite her complaints, Irynsis didn’t throw the cigar away. Instead, she kept it clutched between her wind-chapped hands like a precious little ember, letting its warmth seep into her cold fingers.

Cassion quietly looked down at her, at her thin frame wrapped in nothing but a light dress, and at the glowing tip of the cigar she held like a makeshift heater.

Maybe they should go inside? He was just about to suggest it when she spoke first.

“You don’t seem to trust me even after the gift, so maybe we should start by giving and receiving something equally.”

Cassion’s expression shifted with surprise.

He’d honestly expected her to use threats.

She knew how Evelina had died. She knew he was sick. Even if all she did was refuse to tell him where Evelina’s body was, he would’ve had no choice but to yield.

“What are you going to give me?”

“I’ll cure your illness.”

Cassion let out a long sigh.

Over the past few days, Cassion had confirmed that the things that woman said in the carriage were true.

And so, her final words—telling him to come to the banquet if he wanted to be cured—kept echoing in his mind.

It was, in truth, the reason he’d come all the way here. Even so, part of him still couldn’t believe her.

He had no choice but to believe the rumors of the Saintess performing miracles. There were far too many first hand witnesses to deny them.

But the words of this woman—were they truly trustworthy?

“There’ve been no accounts of the plague being cured except for the Saintess’s little tricks.”

“And I told you, even those tricks were mine.”

“……”

“I said it before. The Saintess is a helpless fool who can’t do anything without me.”

It was what she’d said the very first time they met—words Cassion had turned over in his mind countless times since.

“Do you know the Crown Prince once caught the plague?”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

The Crown Prince had remained almost entirely out of public view during his childhood. The imperial family claimed he was simply frail and often sick, but speculation had always run rampant.

Among the many whispers, one was that he’d been infected by the plague.

“Well, it wasn’t a rumor.”

Repeating his word with a scoff, Irynsis let out a derisive laugh.

“You’re saying you cured him?”

“I told you Evelina didn’t die from the plague. So then, who do you think cured her?”

As Cassion’s expression grew serious, a deeper smile played across Irynsis’s lips.

“Have you ever heard of something called Quies?”