Chapter 8: The Final Fragment of Truth (2)

The dreaded night of the new moon finally arrived.

Early in the morning, Larie handed Rui over to the nursemaid and buried herself under the covers. She stayed like that all day, but as evening fell, the real pain began.

Repeated waves of agony quickly wore down her resolve. All she could feel was regret—she should have made up an excuse and gone to the forest.

Why did it only grow more painful each time?

“It hurts…”

It felt as though some divine force was crushing her under an enormous hand. If it would just end everything, maybe she wouldn’t feel so tormented.

Then a sudden thought struck her. Perhaps the reason this pain felt especially unbearable was because of the cool touch she’d experienced last month.

She forced herself to push away the thought.

She must not go to him again.

She couldn’t repeat her mistake from the Grand Duchy.

“It… hurts so much…”

And so, deep into the night, Larie endured the pain alone.

❖ ❖ ❖

Terian woke up at some point.

He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten through the day.

Even tonight, he’d struggled to sleep, only managing to fall into a light doze when something stirred him.

He sensed someone quietly approaching his bedroom.

There were many sleeping chambers in the Imperial Palace.

Tonight, he had chosen the one facing the lake—because he wanted, in some way, to look out over the meadow that connected him to her.

Then, footsteps crossed the garden connected to the bedchamber.

It was strange—no one would dare approach the emperor’s private chambers at this hour. Terian yanked the curtains open, alarmed by the silhouette beyond them.

“Who’s there?”

To his surprise, it was Larie, stumbling toward him with unsteady steps.

She looked like a nymph who had dropped from the sky, bathed in the faint light of the moon that softly illuminated her fragile form.

She walked as though she would vanish into the garden at any moment, the sound of her feet brushing the grass whispering faintly in his ears.

“…Larie?”

Startled, Terian quickly moved toward her.

He suddenly understood why the knights hadn’t stopped whoever approached—because it was her.

Something about her was off. Her vacant eyes looked in his direction, but also seemed to gaze past him into nothingness.

She wore a robe, but beneath it was the kind of thin attire one would wear only in a bedchamber. The moment he noticed, Terian instinctively moved to cover her small frame, ushering her into the room when he realized there was no cloak to shield her.

He cast a sharp glance around. The knights standing guard had already lowered their heads, unmoving.

“What’s wrong?”

She swayed unsteadily, her body devoid of strength. It unsettled him deeply. Terian carefully sat her on the bed.

Her skin felt unusually cold.

And most notably—she was barefoot.

“Are you all right?”

A sense of dread began to rise in him.

As he looked into Larie’s dazed eyes staring blankly down at him, that dread only grew.

She was clearly not in a normal state.

Was she frightened again?

The royal physician’s warnings about the psychological aftershocks of trauma kept pressing on Terian’s mind.

Suddenly, the situation felt strangely familiar. As he remembered her wandering alone through the forest, Terian instinctively reached to feel her forehead.

The cold sweat gathered there made his heart plummet.

“I’ll call the royal physician immediately—”

He shot up in alarm. But before he could even shout for the guards outside, his body froze like stone.

“Don’t go…”

Her voice, barely a whisper, came as she grasped his arm.

“…”

Startled, he cautiously looked at her face. Seeing it contorted in anguish, his eyes naturally dropped to the floor.

Larie feared his touch.

Perhaps it had started with hatred.

At some point in their marriage, she had allowed him to remove his gloves. But after the incident at the banquet, he had returned to covering his hands again—afraid that his bare skin might upset her.

After her disappearance, his obsessive cleanliness worsened. Even when going to bed, Terian always wore gloves. He knew they weren’t necessary—but he wanted to hide any part of himself, just in case he reached for her in a dream.

What began as her revulsion likely evolved into fear. After all, his actions amounted to little better than abduction.

Was that why she had ended up like this again? Driven by fear, backed into a corner?

It was all too familiar.

“My lady.”

Gently, Terian removed her hand from his arm. In that moment, he was grateful for the gloves that concealed his skin.

After hesitating briefly, he slowly knelt on one knee. Then, taking her dirt-caked foot, he placed it on his leg and began to brush the soil away—ever so carefully.

Silently praying that she wouldn’t find his touch unpleasant.

“Why… are you here?”

“…”

Her small, pale feet quickly returned to their original state. But the dirt now smeared across the floor felt like a reflection of his own heart.

He feared what might have driven her to come to this place, in this condition.

“If… if it’s because you’re afraid I might hurt you…”

The tension in his chest felt like a noose tightening. Even now, he couldn’t begin to imagine what she must have felt when she used to come find him in the Grand Duke’s manor. Her family had treated her so cruelly—maybe she’d just been searching for someone, anyone, to rely on.

Did she even know they’d been feeding her contraceptives?

What if, without knowing, she had clung to her child because he was all she had?

Each possibility was like a blade slicing through his chest. Tormented by the weight of his regrets, Terian forced himself to keep speaking. She needed to hear it. She needed to know she didn’t have to throw herself at him like this, trembling in fear.

“If that’s why… then please don’t. I would never harm you.”

Still, Larie only looked down at him with blank eyes. That silence pressed heavily down on his soul.

She stared at him for a long while before her lips moved.

He couldn’t hear her.

Instinctively, he leaned closer, straining to catch her voice. And finally, it reached him.

“I… it hurts.”

“I’ll call the royal physician.”

He stood up in alarm, but Larie slowly shook her head.

That sluggish, frail gesture made him swallow hard. He still didn’t understand. Had she come all this way to ask for help because of her condition? Because of him?

Because he had caused her the worst pain of all?

Every thought crushed his heart further. Still holding her cold, fragile foot in his hand, Terian asked desperately,

“What can I do… to ease your pain?”

“…”

It was an impossible question. Every choice he’d made had only ever caused her more suffering.

He was lost. Kneeling there, he could do nothing—because the man he had been was too much of a fool.

And when his voice broke again, it was hoarse and pleading.

“Tell me… please.”

As if responding to him, she slowly reached out her hand.

And then, she slowly removed his soiled gloves.

“My Lady?”

The dirt-streaked gloves dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

If she had slapped him across the face instead, he wouldn’t have been nearly as shocked. It was such an unexpected act that Terian froze, completely stiff.

Larie gently took his now bare hand and guided it to her cheek. Terian, dumbfounded, could only stare at her as her skin met his palm.

“Ah…”

He flinched at the coolness of her skin against his. The fear that she might find his touch unpleasant surged through him. He almost pulled his hand away—but stopped himself. He was afraid a sudden move might hurt her. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move.

Her eyelids lowered softly, and her expression began to ease.

“…”

That delicate brow, which was always furrowed whenever she came to see him, slowly smoothed. The corners of her lips lifted ever so faintly, and it made his heart clench.

It felt like the goddess of fate had grabbed hold of his throat and refused to let go. Breath caught in his lungs, Terian fixed his gaze on her and finally whispered a question.

“Why…?”

“This way… it doesn’t hurt…”

Her fading voice answered his unspoken question.

Confusion still reigned in his mind. The sensation of her skin against his palm sent his thoughts spinning out of control.

“Please… hold me more.”

Her next words made him swallow hard.

And yet, in that moment, it felt as though lightning had struck through his chest, snapping him back to reality.

“I… I don’t understand you.”

Even as he struggled to breathe through the confusion, the air around him felt heavy, like the depths of a lake. He clenched down on his instincts, forcing his mind to stay sharp. He had to know the truth behind her actions.

“Are you afraid? Is something else troubling you?”

“…”

What if she hadn’t come here of her own will? The thought pressed down on him, cracking his ribs with dread.

He could feel the cold of her cheek slowly warming beneath his palm. Though the strength in her hand holding his was barely a whisper, Terian found himself unable to move at all.

In that stillness, he pleaded—quietly, desperately.

“Please, tell me… my lady.”

Tell me anything.

Let me share your pain.

“The new moon nights… they hurt…”

“…”

It wasn’t the answer he had expected.

But in that moment, the memory of the imperial physician’s report flashed through his mind.

“She mentioned the symptoms worsen during the new moon. I believe it’s a psychological condition—perhaps trauma-induced…”

That was what the physician had said after examining her on the morning after Terian had wrapped her in his cloak and brought her back to the palace.

They had found no signs of illness once the sun rose—only that she always grew unwell on nights when the moon disappeared from the sky. It had seemed plausible that it was psychological. Guilt-ridden as he was, Terian had accepted that explanation too easily.

But now, once again, she had said it—“The new moon nights hurt.”