I first met Blake Evan Reynard when I was ten.

That year, my birth mother had passed away from a chronic illness, as had Blake’s. Coincidentally, I first saw him at a funeral.

His jet-black hair swayed softly in the breeze. Tears shimmered in his vivid blue eyes, as though they might fall at any moment. They were so beautiful, like glass marbles, that I couldn’t look away.

When our eyes met, my heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you for coming, Lady Edenber.”

Even at such a young age, Blake remained composed.

But when everyone had left, he clung to the coffin and wept desperately by himself.

I had witnessed his most vulnerable moment, yet my daily life remained unchanged. The sun burned fiercely over the Duchy of Reynard, and beneath it, the anguished boy pounding his chest looked almost sacred, like a divine masterpiece.

Forgetting the dignity he had shown me as a young lord, he cried for his mother.

It made a powerful impression.

In that moment, I knew.

This person was going to be part of my future.

Those blue eyes found me again. I didn’t like the way he wiped away his tears. They felt as though they were falling onto my chest and soaking into my heart, making me sad alongside him.

Yet despite that sorrow, he radiated happiness.

I handed him the handkerchief I had been holding, then fled from that place.

My pounding heart wasn’t just from running.

That day, I felt something pulling me down; something heavier than my body, and deeper than I could reach.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

I woke up suddenly and opened my eyes, seeing the ducal residence’s canopy once more.

It must be night-time now. The sunlight that had streamed through the window earlier had long since faded. With no lights on in the room, it was pitch black.

Just like my future.

I felt as though, in a year’s time, my world would become as dark as this room — so dark that the only light would be the moon shining through the window.

I had fallen asleep without changing my clothes. If Becky had come back, she would have woken me up and helped me get changed. The fact that she hadn’t meant that she was probably still waiting outside the office.

Had she been waiting that long because of me?

I should go back and tell Blake properly myself.

If he didn’t believe me, we could call the doctor who had examined me to confirm it.

Even the ducal physician, who was more accomplished than the city doctor, wouldn’t dare lie in front of the duke.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

After waiting a long time with still no news, I finally stepped out of the room. It might already be dawn. Blake often worked late into the night, yet still woke up early.

Feeling slightly better, I headed towards his office. By now, he might have found out that I was ill and be looking for a way to save me.

The hallway echoed with nothing but the sound of my footsteps.

When I reached his office on the fifth floor, I could hear voices inside. As I’d expected, he wasn’t asleep, even at this hour.

“…is at it again.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

The voices belonged to Becky and Blake.

For some reason, Blake’s voice sounded different from when he spoke to me—slightly sharper, somehow.

“I’ll take good care of her. From the young lady’s perspective… it can’t be helped.”

“Ha. I don’t know how long I’m supposed to keep indulging this.”

“Please try to understand, Your Grace.”

“And you—are you all right with this?”

“Yes. I just need to endure a little longer.”

Something felt off. For a conversation between master and servant, there was an unusual lack of distance—an ease that felt almost… intimate.

“Please wait just a little longer, Your Grace. What you mentioned should come to pass soon.”

“Waiting doesn’t suit my temperament.”

“You’ll have to, regardless.”

Becky spoke with a light laugh, and Blake responded just as brightly.

Why?

What was there to laugh about?

Wasn’t Becky supposed to inform him of my condition?

Then why was she laughing?

My heart plummeted, as if it had fallen straight to the ground.

It began to pound violently, as though it were pressed right against my ears.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace. I’ll take care of it. Before the young lady becomes the mistress.”

What… did I just hear?

Take care of what?

Blake’s dismissive attitude toward me.

Becky’s bright, cheerful demeanor in front of him.

Had they even read the medical report?

And if they had… did my death mean anything to them at all?

Or—

What if they wanted it?

But why?

If all they needed was to break off the engagement, that would have been enough. So why…?

At the thought of the broken engagement, a sharp ache pierced my chest again.

Footsteps approached.

Startled, I quickly hid myself.

It wasn’t like me. I should have grabbed Becky and demanded to know what those words meant.

But I couldn’t.

My body froze. My lips sealed shut.

What ran down my cheeks—was it disappointment, or betrayal?

Either way, the weight of that pain was beyond words.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

I couldn’t sleep until morning.

I lay awake all night, replaying their conversation in my mind, wondering how they could be so warm with each other when he had always been so cold with me.

It was so different from the coldness he had always shown me.

The way he spoke to Becky was different.

He had never smiled like that at me.

Knock, knock.

At the sound, I glanced toward the window. The sun was slowly rising.

So I really had stayed up all night.

“My lady.”

“Come in.”

Becky entered, followed by a few maids. They carried a basin for washing, and I stared at it absentmindedly.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace. I’ll take care of it. Before the young lady becomes the mistress.”

‘Before the young lady becomes the mistress.’

What exactly did she mean—take care of it—before I became the mistress?

“Becky.”

“Yes, my lady. Did you sleep well?”

“……”

I looked at her.

She had golden hair and red eyes, like mine. Unlike me, she had a slender frame and was covered in freckles.

Because of our similar hair and eye color, people in the town often mistook us for sisters.

I never disliked that. Becky cared for me more than my stepmother or stepsister — more than anyone in the world.

Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to endure life in the Reynard ducal household.

So I shouldn’t doubt her. It felt wrong to suspect her based on mere circumstances, or fragments of a conversation, when I considered everything she had done for me.

My gaze drifted to the scar on the back of her right hand. She got that wound because of my stepmother.

“Why would you refuse Count Orfens!”
“Are you planning to cling to that collapsing barony and die with it?”
“This is a marriage I arranged for your own good!”

The shrill, ringing voice of my stepmother echoed in my ears like tinnitus.

She had brown hair, yellow eyes, and bright red nails. She bought expensive dresses and fox furs every year, draining the barony’s finances in the process.

A faint laugh escaped me.

I was reminded of how I had nearly been forced into a marriage with the elderly Count Orfens because of her extravagance.

Would I be better off now if I had become Countess Orfens?

“My lady?”

“Ah… sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

Becky gestured to the maids, who brought over a basin filled with water studded with rose petals. I washed my face and got ready as usual.

One year.

That was how long I had left.

But there was an antidote after all.

I couldn’t afford to lose my composure. If I broke down again, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to pick myself up.

“Everyone, leave us. Becky, I have something to say.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Becky dismissed the other servants and stepped forward. I couldn’t tell whether it was the tightness of my clothes or the weight of my situation, but I found it hard to breathe; it was as though my ribs were tightening around my lungs.

It was as though everything below my face was underwater, and I was just about managing to keep my head above water.

“Becky.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Did you tell His Grace what I said yesterday?”

“Yes……”

Her expression shifted—subtly, but unmistakably. As she clasped her hands together, the burn on her right hand stood out even more.

“Can you tell me what he said?”

“Well… he said that matters concerning the madam are not something for you to involve yourself in.”

For a moment, I could almost feel the coldness in Blake’s voice through Becky’s words.

“And?”

“And then, I—I told him that you might have been poisoned with Libitina venom.”

“I see.”

“B-but he didn’t believe it… so, um… the report that Assistant Velocien had picked up at the time—I showed it to him.”

“I understand.”

If he had seen the report, then surely he would help me.

Even if he had neglected me for over three years, I was still the fiancée of the Duke of Reynard.

“B-but His Grace still seemed unconvinced… so I—I explained it carefully, and he said he understood.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes……”

It felt as though I had been struck hard across the head.

Becky—

Why?

Why was she lying to me?