Aiden opened his eyes.

As the haze in his vision slowly cleared, he saw Ivan standing before him, his face flushed red like a tomato.

“You were unconscious for an entire week!”

His friend’s voice broke as he blurted it out.

“Why did you take it? That medicine!”

“……”

Aiden slowly opened and closed his eyes again.

The moment he drew breath, he was struck by an intense, sudden pain as though a wolf were devouring his heart. He clutched at his chest.

“Of course it hurts! You—you… Aiden. How could you…?”

“…I didn’t die. Isn’t that enough?”

“Then why did you drink it!”

Ivan’s voice, uncharacteristically raised, pounded against his ears. Enduring the throbbing in his skull, Aiden knit one brow tightly.

“I thought it would suppress the pain.”

To be honest, he couldn’t even tell where it hurt. Sometimes it felt as though his heart was aching; at others, as though his fingertips were being cut into tiny pieces.

Then, suddenly, his throat seemed to catch fire and his lungs felt as though they were being crushed.

He could not tell whether the agony was real or merely phantom pain conjured by his mind.

With a quiet sigh, Aiden added.

“It was useless.”

“Then don’t take it again.”

Aiden nodded obediently.

As though this response were astonishing, Ivan’s eyes widened so much that they almost rolled out of his head.

“Ivan.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“How was she. That day…?”

It was not the first time he had asked, yet Ivan’s expression still turned sorrowful. In a low, careful voice, his friend began to speak.

“That day, Baron Luce’s daughter made me swear. And I swore on my father’s name. I told her I would stop you. It was absurd—but I truly meant it.”

“…Yes. It was absurd.”

A faint scoff escaped Aiden’s lips, and Ivan, sounding somewhat reassured, continued.

“Her breathing was uneven. Her temperature was abnormally high, and the bleeding in her abdomen was severe. I administered a sedative first…”

It could not have been easy, but his friend spoke gently despite his own pain. He told Aiden that the life they had created together had slipped away. He told him how Sveta had endured it.

Suddenly, Aiden found himself wondering.

When had she conceived the child?

Perhaps it had been during those first few days after they had first come together.

Those clumsy, reckless days when they lost all restraint.

His vision blurred.

Then Ivan’s face came into sharp focus, and the desperation etched across it was impossible to ignore.

“You mustn’t die, Aiden.”

“…Do I look like I’m dying?”

“It feels that way. You mustn’t. You can’t die.”

“Everyone dies.”

Ivan insisted stubbornly.

“But not you!”

“Thank you. For worrying.”

Ivan’s eyes widened again.

“Of course.”

“…It isn’t a matter of course.”

Not many people were truly worried about Aiden.

His brother, Hazel; Ivan and Sveta.

My beloved Sveta.

When she saw him drenched in sweat, she asked if he was all right. Despite struggling and insisting that she hated him, concern filled her face. She worried about the smallest, most insignificant things.

The expression she wore then…

Her beautiful brows drew gently together. Her soft, flesh-colored lips parted slightly — it was so endearing.

He could remember every detail.

The cascade of black hair falling over her pale nape. The small, rounded curve of her ear, just visible beneath the hair.

“Are you all right?”

Ivan’s voice broke through his thoughts again. Aiden gave a vague nod.

“……”

He could no longer follow the conversation.

The woman shimmering before his eyes was too beautiful.

Unwilling to let the fragments of her memory fade each time they surfaced, Aiden absently reached out into the empty air.

The last shred of his sanity flared up like a warning signal, urging him to come to his senses, but he ignored it.

Perhaps he was losing his mind.

But was that truly so wrong?

If it meant he could see her like this—

—then perhaps madness was not such a terrible thing after all.

“…I should rest.”

“Yes. You’ve taken so many poisons before that it wasn’t fatal this time. That’s fortunate. A few days of recuperation, and you’ll recover completely.”

Suddenly, the scents of jasmine soap and violet oil wafted through the air.

He blinked several times, and there she was: Sveta, lying beside him and smiling softly. The curve of her lifted cheek was as beautiful as a pearl.

“Duke, Duke,” she called him.

He wished she would say his name, but hearing her voice was enough.

A faint smile touched Aiden’s lips, and he nodded.

After watching him for a moment, Ivan quietly left the bedroom.

***

While autumn had arrived in other regions, Zvern of Prisada was still sweltering.

This was partly due to its location in the south-central region, where the climate was usually mild. But that was not all.

The main reason was the feverish interest in a beautiful foreign woman who had appeared out of nowhere.

Consequently, Yvetsa’s dress shop, where she worked, was inundated again today.

“I think she’s coming.”

At someone’s mutter, the five or six men loitering outside the shop turned their gaze towards the end of the street simultaneously.

Moments later, a hired carriage pulled up on the pale paving stones.

“Thank you.”

After thanking the driver, the woman stepped down and began to walk slowly, leaning on her cane.

Her skin, which was so pale as to be rarely seen in southern Prisada, gleamed brightly in the warm sunlight.

Just as one of the men scratched the back of his head, debating whether to speak to her—

“Darling, what’s with the flowers?”

“Yvetsa!”

The shop’s owner, the witch-like Yvetsa, shot them a fierce glare. Then she grabbed the woman and disappeared inside with her.

The men smacked their lips in disappointment.

Suddenly, Yvetsa flung open the door and barked.

“If you’re not buying anything, stop interfering with my business and leave!”

“……”

They only rolled their eyes around sheepishly, remaining where they stood. With a scoff, Yvetsa slammed the door shut.

“These flowers.”

After glancing toward the entrance, Sveta placed a single bloom into a vase.

“I found it in front of the door this morning. Wasn’t it you who left it there, Yvetsa?”

“I can’t stand flowers.”

“…Oh. Then should I throw it away?”

Yvetsa glanced sideways at the deep-purple anemone and replied briefly.

“It looks like a rare greenhouse flower. There’s no need to throw it away. Just leave it.”

Smiling faintly, she moved the vase closer to the window. Glancing at the men pressed tightly against the glass, she carefully adjusted the curtain.

‘It feels like there are even more people outside today… Yvetsa will be furious.’

At that moment, the bell above the door jingled as it opened.

Two of the men who had been loitering outside shuffled in awkwardly.

“I’d like to take a look at some dresses for my wife.”

“I’m here to buy clothes for my sister, Yvetsa.”

Arms crossed, Yvetsa glared at them and snapped.

“Your half-sister is four years old this year!”

Scratching the back of his neck, the man replied.

“I’ll have her wear it when she’s older. Dresses don’t rot.”

“…Dresses rot. Fine fabric doesn’t. The better garments are over there—look around if you want.”

Sveta started toward them to help choose the dresses, but Yvetsa called her back.

“Darling, come here a moment.”

Yvetsa led her behind a partition.

“It’s that dress you mentioned before. The Terris style.”

Sveta stared at the paper in front of her.

The dress in the sketch was the Terris style that had recently become popular in Zvern.

However, in Renan of Aetania, this fashion had been popular for two years already. It was strange that it had only just spread to such a rural area.

“Did the vine pattern twist in this direction?”

“Yes. But I think it should be embroidered more roughly, with thicker yellow thread.”

Yvetsa adjusted the sketch.

“By the way, where did you see this dress?”

“It just… happened.”

No excuse came to mind, so her voice trailed off. Fortunately, Yvetsa did not press further.

“That happens. I just happened to drift here myself and ended up living in this place.”

“You’re not from here originally?”

“Do I look like a native?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’ve got a sharp eye for clothes, but you’re hopeless when it comes to judging people?”

“I suppose so.”

Sveta gave a weak smile.

“…Don’t just stand there. Come help me organize the fabrics. I’ll deal with the customers.”

“Yes.”

She spent the whole day in the shop’s storeroom, carefully sorting bolts of fabric.

There weren’t many different types of fabric, so the task itself wasn’t difficult. However, she was determined to do a good job and took her time with each bundle.

Before she knew it, the afternoon had slipped by. She had only planned to help out for five or six hours. After all, there weren’t many customers.

Leaving early, she hired a carriage and returned home.

Beneath the clear autumn sky, a playful breeze brushed through her black hair. The strands swayed gently against her shoulders.

Just as she reached the front door—

“…Oh? There’s another one?”

On the small chair beside the entrance lay a single deep-purple anemone.

***

“Your Grace, regarding the matter you previously ordered—about finding an informant who knows about Beth Gould.”

“……”

Dennis stared at the bed shrouded in drawn curtains.

The room beyond the heavy drapes was steeped in darkness.

‘Is he even listening?’

As if sensing his thoughts, a shadow shifted faintly behind the translucent canopy.

Dennis continued.

“We’ve located the informant.”

“The other news.”

“…Pardon?”

“Did you not say there were two pieces of news?”

As though uninterested, the duke asked about the next matter.

‘Has he truly abandoned his vengeance?’

In many ways, his master was in a fragile state. The fact that he had shut himself away in his bedroom for days on end like a broken man was proof enough of that.

It would be better to keep the informant at the ducal residence and report back later.

Dennis delivered the second piece of news.

“Lady Noma has regained consciousness.”

“……”

“She has since lost it again. According to the physician, they will observe whether the intervals of consciousness gradually lengthen.”

“Is that so.”

That indifferent reply brought things to a close. As the duke asked no further questions, there was nothing more to say.

Dennis bowed deeply and was about to leave the bedroom when a low, chilling voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Dennis.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Summon… Hazel.”