“Remember this well, Your Highness.”

Rafez’s eyes flew open.

The pain was one thing — but her voice rang so vivid it might have been spoken right beside his ear.

Remember what, exactly.

The sight of her drinking poison and dying in a pool of blood?

Rafez shot to his feet and bolted from the room.

“Your Highness!”

Mollys moved to greet him, startled — but Rafez saw no one. He only ran.

Everyone scrambled after him.

* * *

Lacy had just woken and was sitting up in bed, lost in thought.

It was then that the door flew open without a knock and Rafez came rushing in, grabbing hold of her.

“Lacy!”

“……Your Highness?”

Rafez clutched her, and the look on his face was one of anguish.

“Just stop dying already! Stop dying!”

Lacy was so startled she couldn’t find words.

“Why do you keep dying — why…… Why are you doing this. Please, just stop——”

His cries gave way, little by little, to something closer to despair. Rafez bowed his head, unable to look at her face.

“Your Highness.”

Even at Lacy’s call, Rafez said nothing more. His head was down, and she couldn’t make out his expression.

“Your Highness, what are you saying. Stop dying — what do you mean by——”

“I…… must have had a nightmare.”

Lacy’s voice brought him back. Rafez lifted his head at last and rose. That it had been a nightmare was no lie — his face and the whole of his body were drenched in sweat.

“……Forget it.”

Rafez left the room in a hurry.

Forget it. Was everything that had just happened truly meant to end with those two words?

“Just stop dying already! Stop dying!”

Rafez’s expression of anguish — she had never seen anything like it before.

But it hadn’t been simple anger. There was anger in it, yes — and resentment — and somewhere beneath it all, something that felt unmistakably like grief.

“Please, just stop——”

Those last words had been almost a plea.

Nightmare or not — he wasn’t someone who would grieve over Lacy dying.

* * *

“I want some rest.”

“Pardon?”

Back in his room, Rafez’s words caught Mollys off guard.

He had never once said he wanted rest.

Rafez had been diligent since childhood — graduating from the academy at a young age with distinguished marks, never once neglecting his studies or his training in swordsmanship or anything else. It was almost enough to make one think he might actually dislike resting.

After Derpel’s death, Rafez had inherited the position of heir — and yet he had fit the role so naturally, without a single gap or shortcoming, that it seemed made for him.

And now here he was — rushing to Lacy first thing in the morning and flying into a sudden outburst, as though he had become an entirely different person overnight.

“If you are feeling unwell somewhere, I can call the physician at once——”

“No. I simply want to rest.”

“Pardon?”

“Though I suppose it would be better to say I’m unwell, for appearances. Send word to the Imperial Palace as well — tell them I won’t be coming for the time being.”

No matter how many times he drove that blade in, the pain never grew familiar.

He had tried to learn something about the poison — and all he had gotten was that Lacy had carried it since childhood. Which meant, at the very least, that House Lennon had possessed it for a very long time.

Given that it couldn’t be obtained anywhere on the open market, it was likely something belonging to the house itself.

And yet the poison found its way into his hands all the same.

That poison without even a name.

He was tired — tired even of asking “What is this?” anymore.

He was turning back time of his own volition, and yet it felt as though he had fallen into an inescapable wheel of fate with no way out.

“……It is a trap. No question about it. A merciless one.”

Through the cycle of death and regression, one thing had become clear to him — Lacy’s death was undeniably a trap. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that the Emperor’s very act of binding him to Lacy through marriage had been engineered for exactly this outcome.

And there was something else he had come to realize — there was most certainly a spy inside this estate.

The third death had made that plain. Dying from poisoned food. That couldn’t have happened without someone on the inside helping it along.

On top of that, the Imperial knights storming in the moment Lacy died — as though they had been waiting — could only mean one thing: a spy in the estate was passing word along the instant it happened.

“Haa……”

The problem was that Lacy kept dying too soon, before he could find anything out.

Whether she died by her own hand or another’s, she seemed like someone with not the slightest attachment to her own life. As though she had been born to die from the very beginning.

She was the sole daughter of House Lennon — the most cherished young noblewoman in the Imperial family’s eyes.

And yet that very person had been nothing more than a sacrificial piece for the destruction of House Felista. That was the part he found most impossible to believe.

“The sunlight is lovely today, Your Highness.”

Mollys guided him naturally toward the garden.

“……Mollys.”

Since Rafez had declared he wanted rest under the pretense of illness, Mollys had been keeping a quiet eye on him.

Not that it did any good.

This time, Rafez had chosen to quietly hold onto the poison — and in response, everything had stayed calm and still. So what was Lacy thinking right now, without the poison in her possession?

Would keeping it from her be enough to keep her alive, at least?

“Rafez!”

At the garden entrance, Mary waved in greeting and came running toward him.

Mary’s sudden appearance left Rafez at a loss.

“Mary, why are you——”

“What do you mean, why? My friend is ill — of course I had to come. I’ve been so worried. I’ve never heard of you being sick before.”

“I told you not to come.”

When news of Rafez’s illness had reached her, Mary had sent word that she intended to visit — and Rafez had turned her away. And yet here she was regardless.

“I brought desserts in case you’d lost your appetite. But…… you don’t actually look sick?”

Mary studied him, then rose on her tiptoes and reached up to press her hand against his forehead.

“What are you doing.”

“Checking for a fever. No fever, thankfully.”

Then she peered at his face with great scrutiny, examining every corner of it.

His handsome face appeared to be in perfect order.

“Where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t. It’s none of your concern.”

Rafez turned away from her.

In the current state of things, Mary’s visit was far from welcome. Not that she had ever been the kind of friend Rafez held particularly dear to begin with. They were simply from families that were close, and had known each other since childhood — nothing more.

“Is that how you treat a friend who came all this way out of worry? Rafez, that’s awful. Just awful.”

“I told you not to come, and you came anyway.”

“Let’s have a tea party. The garden is lovely. Mollys, you’ll arrange it, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

With Mollys on board, Rafez had no grounds to refuse.

And more than that — Mollys had sensed that Rafez was struggling, and felt grateful for Mary’s effort. Rafez might not show it, but Mary was one of the few friends he had.

“Go on, try some. You like cake.”

Mary offered him a slice of strawberry cake, but Rafez couldn’t bring himself to reach for it.

“……Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

At that, Mary set her fork down as well.

Even under Mary’s worried gaze, Rafez only shook his head.

“Do you think I don’t know you? I’ve known you since the day you were born. There is no one who knows Rafez Felista better than I do.”

Even at Mary’s words, Rafez showed little reaction — then, without a word, he picked up his fork and put a strawberry in his mouth. A sweet, slightly tart flavor spread across his tongue.

“……It’s good.”

“All right. I won’t ask. Just finish that.”

Mary smiled and sipped her tea. As long as what she had brought helped him even a little, that was enough.

“The tea smells lovely. Oh — how is the Grand Duchess, by the way?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“I see. That’s a relief, then.”

Even at Rafez’s vague answer, Mary gave a small nod of agreement.

Ever since Rafez had married, Mary had asked after Lacy like this every time they met. Come to think of it, she had never once shown any hostility toward House Lennon in front of Rafez.

The Valerian County was far removed from the Imperial family’s sphere — so relations with the ducal houses weren’t particularly warm either. And yet.

“Have tea like this sometimes. With the Grand Duchess, I mean. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“……I do.”

“Good. You are husband and wife, after all. Women love this sort of thing — a tea party.”

* * *

Inside the carriage on the way back to the Valerian estate.

That single word Rafez had said — “I do” — nagged at Mary in a way she couldn’t quite shake.

He hadn’t seemed like himself. He didn’t appear physically ill, but there was something clearly off about him — like a man who was uncomfortable somewhere she couldn’t see.

Not sick in body, but sick at heart.

Why? Over what?

No — whether he was hurting or not, something had clearly happened. Of that she was certain.

Mary had always made a habit of asking after Lacy whenever they met, offering Rafez the occasional word of advice to look after her. And every time, Rafez had said nothing.

So why did that one small “I do” today sit so strangely with her.

Whatever this something was — could it possibly be because of Lacy?

It was an unsettling feeling.