“Then what is it?”

“W-well…”

Gulp—the doctor was scared enough that the sound of him swallowing was audible. He then explained in a voice barely above a crawl.

“Some sleeping pills have sleepwalking as a side effect. It’s an extremely rare symptom. It’s caused by overstimulation of the right brain, and it seems the Madam is more sensitive because her right brain is more developed than the average person’s.”

“Developed?”

This time Astaire muttered blankly. His eyes filled with some kind of realization.

The hand he’d raised to grab the doctor by the collar dropped powerlessly.

Daphne had overwhelmingly superior memory compared to others.

Was that why?

Was Daphne suffering like this because of her exceptional ability?

It was a moment of confronting a fact he hadn’t imagined—no, a fact he’d known but consistently ignored. A shock so intense his vision flashed struck the man.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t explained it to the gynecologist either.

That Daphne was different from others.

He’d hated the idea of others learning about her perfect recall ability, so he’d thoroughly controlled any leaks.

At their first meeting, the Count who’d been the only one to know that fact had become unable to speak due to a “coincidental” accident. Now, aside from Daphne herself, Astaire was the only person in the world who knew about her ability.

Once, he’d been pleased by that fact.

“…Your Grace?”

When the Duke, who’d seemed ready to explode, went quiet, the doctor called out to him trembling.

Only then did Astaire wake from his thoughts and let out a short sigh.

He roughly ran his hand through his blond hair.

“So.”

“Yes?”

“So…”

Dazed, he repeated the same word for a while. The man couldn’t finish the sentence that left his lips for some time.

Astaire’s attitude made the physician even more anxious, so he quickly recovered the situation. It was practically a final act of camaraderie for the gynecologist who would soon arrive at the ducal estate after receiving an urgent telegram.

“W-well, there’s no need to prescribe any special medicine. It’s a temporary symptom. Right now the Madam has fallen back asleep—”

“She fell back asleep?”

Astaire growled ominously like a dark cave.

Even amid this, the devil still lived and breathed deep in his chest.

He’d found a way to use this incident as an opportunity.

* * *

Her consciousness, which had been sleeping deep in the ocean depths, floated up. It felt like her body was rising toward the transparent surface where bright sunlight poured down.

Multiple voices pulled at Daphne’s consciousness.

“…completely fallen into sleep…”

“How should we tell her…”

‘Are they all talking about me right now?’

Thinking that, Daphne tried to regain consciousness more clearly.

‘And tell me what, exactly?’

“Oh my, what should we do for our Madam!”

At first she was confused about whose voice it was, but she soon recalled the owners one by one. Astaire, the doctor, and the maids.

‘Did something happen to me?’

Right after muttering that, a wordless, intense thought struck her mind.

‘Or maybe it’s not about me…’

The baby.

Not our baby, but my baby.

She reached out, instinctively trying to touch her belly. But her hand wouldn’t move.

And like driving a wedge into her ominous suspicion, someone cried out. It was a maid’s voice.

“A miscarriage!”

Miscarriage?

That single short word jolted her awake. Shaking off the drowsiness weighing her down, Daphne sat bolt upright.

“…What? What did you say?”

Her vision spun from sitting up so suddenly. The weakness still hadn’t left her body, so as soon as she stood, she swayed and collapsed back onto the bed.

But then Daphne sat up again and cried out.

“Mis…carriage?”

When she stammered out those difficult words, Daphne hoped someone in the room would contradict her. But no one did.

Silence, and more silence.

As her blurry vision cleared, Daphne faced people staring at her with indescribable expressions.

The doctor, the maids, the head butler.

And Astaire.

Every single one of them wore expressions troubled about how to explain the miscarriage.

Daphne tried to move her lips but her body lost strength. It felt too unreal.

Could all of this be a lie staged for her?

She desperately hoped so.

She definitely thought that, yet.

“Daphne.”

Astaire’s voice calling her was too heavy. Daphne felt suffocated, like that weight was strangling her.

“Daphne.”

Astaire called her name twice.

“What I just heard… is it really true?”

She barely managed to ask. The voice scraping out of her throat was rough, like it had been ground on sandpaper.

Her eyes grew hot. Soon she felt hot liquid flowing down her cheeks.

Though she asked while looking at people in turn, Daphne already knew the answer.

“…Yes.”

Astaire answered in an endlessly sunken voice.

Thud.

Thud thud thud.

It felt like someone had grabbed her by the hair and was shaking her violently. Especially in that moment when Astaire drove the wedge into her suspicion.

The baby had miscarried.

“That’s impossible.”

At first she denied it. A hoarse voice tore from her vocal cords.

No one contradicted her; they stayed silent. It felt like the whole world was strangling her.

“Ah…”

That can’t be.

Just before she fell asleep, the baby had been fine. Suddenly a miscarriage?

“The supplement… the supplement… is the problem.”

After taking it, she’d fallen asleep like fainting and started acting strangely. Naturally, the cause of the problem could only be one thing, logically speaking.

And yet, definitely yet.

No one agreed with Daphne’s words.

They just stared at Daphne quietly, sunk in indescribable gloom.

Somehow their gazes felt piercing, so Daphne gripped the blanket until her knuckles turned white.

What?

“Daphne, you have the sequence wrong.”

Astaire placed his hand over hers and spoke.

His tone seemed to be correcting a mistaken thought.

“Because you miscarried, your health is poor right now. The supplement the physician gave you didn’t agree with your body.”

“How… could that be?”

“Madam! I’m truly sorry!”

The gynecologist who’d rushed to work in the middle of the night apologized like she might faint at any moment. She’d already knelt down without caring that her knees were getting dirty, begging Daphne’s forgiveness.

“…”

Something was off.

It was a strange discomfort, like a single eyebrow hair had gotten in her eye. Even the fact that she couldn’t figure out how to remove it was the same.

An inexplicable unpleasantness welled up, and Daphne stared at the faces of the people looking at her with concern, one by one.

Why was it?

The moment she looked at them, she thought of actors performing a play on stage.

Like her own past, when she’d moved according to Astaire’s direction.

“Daphne?”

Astaire’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Daphne’s hazy focus fixed on the man and became somewhat clearer.

“I know… the shock must be great.”

The Duke made a rare surprised face and firmly grasped Daphne’s hand, interlacing their fingers.

But Daphne could tell.

The man’s hand holding hers had more force in it than before, however slight.

“First, let’s have the doctor examine you and rest. If you want to sleep, you can sleep as much as you want.”

Daphne stroked her flat belly with the hand Astaire wasn’t holding.

Her baby, who couldn’t even grow and was cut down like an annual plant.

Laura.

I couldn’t even give you a prettier name, and you left me like this.

Drip.

Tears flowed from her eyes.

Everyone told Daphne to sleep for now, but naturally she couldn’t fall asleep.

Of course not. How could a mother do that when her baby had already entered eternal rest?

The hot tears at the corners of her eyes wouldn’t dry.

Daphne stayed awake all night.

She blinked her tear-dropping eyes vacantly, just staring at the ceiling.

Time flowed very slowly until morning came. In the flow of time, Daphne felt like she might completely lose her mind.

“Laura.”

She called the prenatal name and gently wrapped her belly. Then she twisted her face.

“My Laura…”

Still, time passed. The fact that time flowed without stopping like water felt cruel.

When morning finally came, an unwelcome visitor arrived from early hours.

* * *

“Who on earth came to visit that there’s such a commotion this early?”

The head maid’s voice rose. In front of her stood a young maid fidgeting and at a loss.

Daphne didn’t even have the energy to ask who had come.

When she passed behind them with powerless steps, the head maid and young maid flinched and turned around.

“…I greet the Madam.”

This time the head maid’s face changed to look not much different from the young maid’s. Both their faces turned pale as white paper.