“…No.”

Kian opened his eyes with a shudder, seeing trees quickly passing by through the carriage window. He must have dozed off briefly during the journey.

Even when lying in bed, he couldn’t truly sleep—these short moments of rest were all he managed. Yet in each brief interval, he dreamed, and always the same dream.

He ran both hands over his face and exhaled deeply. When he stroked the back of his neck with his palm, it was drenched in cold sweat.

Come here.

When he approaches, she instinctively steps back. Even though she’s right before him, even knowing it’s a dream, he can’t touch her for fear she might shatter.

…Please. I was wrong. So please…

Despite his pleading, she ultimately stands at the edge of the cliff. His body stiffens, and the sensation of his blood freezing becomes vivid. Though he tries desperately to grab her, he cannot move, like someone paralyzed during a nightmare.

A pale smile flickers across her fair face, and without fail, Vivianne throws herself over the edge. Only then do his legs give way, and he collapses to the ground. Like a dog, he lies prostrate, helplessly watching Vivianne’s form grow distant.

Down and down she falls, eventually swallowed by the dark waters below. Only then would he finally wake from the nightmare. Though he should have grown numb to this recurring nightmare, it only became more vivid with each repetition.

The princess who saves the sacrifice becomes another sacrifice herself.

No matter how he tried not to think about it, the content of the curse kept haunting him, driving him to the brink of madness. He needed to find her as quickly as possible and keep her by his side.

He would protect her so that not even a hair on her head would be harmed—both Vivianne and the baby in her womb. All of them needed to be safe.

Upon hearing that she must have come ashore, he immediately widened his search radius. Kian decided to investigate every port city that could be reached from the point where Vivianne had fallen. When he posted a reward, reports flooded in from various regions, but all proved fruitless.

Kian arranged for Alice and her family to stay within his territory and instructed his personal physician to treat her sick child. If Vivianne returned, Alice could provide support as someone of the same species who shared similar experiences. Additionally, she could be a valuable source of information about mermaids when needed.

He opened the gift box beside him and stared at it blankly before breaking into a small smile. Inside were two pairs of shoes with ribbons—one for Vivianne and one for the baby. It was absurd to think he had delayed his search to buy these, not even knowing she had fled.

Today, like other days, he had received a report of someone spotting a similar woman, and he had rushed here only to be disappointed again. He had brought the shoes hoping he might meet her today, though in truth, he always carried them.

Kian couldn’t stop fidgeting with the tiny ribbons, touching them repeatedly with his fingertips. As always, he marveled at how incredibly small the baby shoes were.

“Marian.”

Honestly, he wanted a daughter. A daughter who looked exactly like Vivianne would be perfect. She would love ribbons like her mother, and hopefully be tiny and cheerful with a bright smile just like her.

“Anthony.”

Well, a boy wouldn’t be bad either. Would a male child dislike ribbons? No, if he took after his father, that wouldn’t be the case.

After naturally imagining a son who resembled himself, he concluded it would be better if the child resembled Vivianne instead.

“Marian von Larson. Anthony von Larson…”

Naming a child whose very existence remained uncertain—someone might laugh at him, but he didn’t care. He kept murmuring the names to familiarize himself with them, speaking them aloud to make them real, hoping their reality might bring them closer to meeting. Like reciting an incantation, he called the names again and again.

His naming method was simple. He had thought about what Vivianne would choose, and the answer came easily.

“I’ll just call him ‘An.’ The ‘an’ from Kian, the ‘an’ from Vivianne. The part where our names overlap.”

She would probably like names containing “an.” Or perhaps she would hate them? But what could he do—this was their baby, after all. Such idle thoughts allowed him a moment’s smile.

“I… want to have your offspring.”

Looking back, it was in this very carriage that Vivianne first expressed her wish to him. Unlike other mistresses, that foolish woman had no desire for jewels or dresses. She wanted only a child.

“…Vivianne.”

This name pleased him most of all, even more than the unborn baby’s. The child was merely a connection between them; honestly, he cared little about anything else.

Vivianne. If only you were mine. If only you were by my side…

“Vivianne von Larson.”

What should he do? With apologies to the princess, he would have to give her the same name. Though she might be adopted with a different surname in the middle, it would ultimately be a means for her to become Vivianne von Larson.

Even the Larson name, which he had once wished extinct, seemed to grow on him when attached to Vivianne. She couldn’t remain a princess. If she bore his name, she would become family rather than another sacrifice.

That’s how it must be.

“For me, Kian is my only male.”

“I like you, Kian.”

It was also in this carriage that Vivianne first confessed to him. In their constantly intimate relationship, such tender words had seemed unnecessary and awkward.

“Do you like me too, Kian?”

Her desperate eyes seeking confirmation had been adorable, and he had wanted to tease her. So he deliberately avoided giving an immediate answer—looking back, it was foolish.

“I like you.”

What if he had said that?

No, to be more honest…

“…Saying I like you isn’t enough.”

He had been obsessed—kissing her shamelessly in front of others, embracing her repeatedly during the short journey back to the mansion, unable to wait even those few moments.

And it seemed he was still obsessed, becoming aroused just thinking about it.

Madman.

Kian felt himself harden below his navel and couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

* * *

“Madam, it’s Josephine!”

“Come in.”

As soon as her mistress granted permission, a middle-aged maid hurried in with quick steps. She was panting, apparently in a great hurry about something.

“Always so dramatic.”

Marchioness Baldwin seemed displeased with this behavior, pushing up her sliding reading glasses and furrowing her brow. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. Despite the rebuke, Josephine approached the Marchioness with a good-natured smile.

“Madam, just now…! That young lady has awakened!”

“Has she?”

Her narrowed eyes widened again. Marchioness Baldwin put down the newspaper she had been reading and removed her glasses.

Recently, something strange had been caught in a fishing boat’s net—a person, a woman. She was too intact to be a drowning victim, yet barely clinging to life. To find such a person in the middle of the sea was astonishing.

The Marchioness Baldwin, who owned the fishing boat, took in this pitiful burden as soon as she received the report. After they managed to raise her dangerously low body temperature, the woman suffered from a high fever. To make matters worse, she began bleeding. The doctor informed them she had been pregnant but had already miscarried.

A pregnant woman swept away by waves—had she tried to take her own life? Whatever her story, she clearly had a tragic fate.

“Call the doctor. And fetch my shawl.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Josephine quickly gathered the shawl and walking stick, then helped her mistress to her feet.

“You’ve been curious too, haven’t you, Madam?”

“I need to hear her story. What circumstances brought her to us, drifting in from the sea.”

Even Marchioness Baldwin, who typically showed little interest in others’ affairs, seemed curious about this poor young lady’s story.

* * *

“Thank you. For saving me.”

Still in her nightgown, the woman rose from the bed and bowed politely. She looked so fragile, as though she might collapse at any moment.

“…Making formal greetings when you’re at death’s door.”

Marchioness Baldwin sighed softly at this imprudent display.

“Put her back to bed.”

“Yes, Madam.”

At the command, the woman seemed to think she had done something wrong, clasping her hands together and fidgeting awkwardly.

“Miss, you haven’t fully recovered yet. You need to lie down. Come here quickly.”

“But…”

“Please lie down, won’t you?”

Josephine forcibly guided the woman, who had been standing motionless, back to bed. Her small frame sank into the plush bedding. Though somewhat emaciated from illness, she possessed doll-like beauty.

“We found you in the middle of the sea. So… do you remember what happened?”

She shook her head with wide, round eyes.

Perhaps the shock had caused memory loss. Well, it wasn’t strange—surviving alone was fortunate enough.

“Is there anything you remember? Your name, perhaps? Or where you lived before?”

“…”

“There’s no rush. Just tell me if anything comes to mind.”

After a moment of thought with lowered lashes, the woman finally spoke.

“…Vivi.”

She murmured softly, then looked up with an expression of realization.

“My name is Vivianne.”