Chapter 33

Thump, thump-thump.

Rabiana crouched low, pressing her hands against her violently pounding chest. The words she had just heard echoed over and over.

‘I killed him.’

‘Guess I should’ve made some noise.  Just give someone a dukedom and they think it gives them the right to micromanage everything…’

She couldn’t forget the low, dry voice that had spoken them. It felt like she had just glimpsed a side of Alberto she had never dared imagine.

Just hours ago, he had been the kind man who shielded her. Now, he felt like a grim reaper who’d taken someone’s life.

Step, step-step.

Footsteps approached.

Rabiana held her breath. Draped above her was fine silk—this was the closet. For some reason, her instincts screamed at her to hide.

Feeling her way along the floor, she crawled on her knees into the wardrobe and finally tucked herself inside. Her heart pounded so loudly it nearly deafened her.

“My Lady.”

Alberto’s voice echoed quietly through the empty room.

Rabiana clamped a trembling hand over her mouth. She held her breath, desperate not to make a sound.

“…Ha.”

A hollow laugh escaped him. He had figured out that she’d overheard everything, but he hadn’t expected her to actually hide.

He swept his dry gaze around the wind-chilled, empty room. Under the table. A shattered vase. The overturned chair—likely the one she had been sitting in. Her cane leaned against the window.

His eyes stopped on the wardrobe. More specifically, on a piece of fabric jutting from its closed doors.

He knew his words could’ve easily been misunderstood. But he hadn’t imagined she would go as far as to hide herself away like this.

Alberto hesitated—should he pretend he hadn’t seen her? Walk away silently, out of respect?

That would be the considerate choice.

But for some reason, he felt twisted up inside.

In the end, he threw the closet doors open wide.

“My Lady.”

Twitch. The chill-laden voice spread before Rabiana. Alberto, kneeling, took the hand that covered her mouth—slick with sweat.

“Did you hear it all?”

“Uh, y-yes? H-hear… what?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late to play dumb?”

If she had only lain down and pretended to be asleep, he might have let it pass. But hiding so conspicuously and then feigning ignorance—this woman had not the slightest talent for improvisation.

Rabiana’s captured hand quivered violently. Alberto let out a short sigh.

“Am I frightening you?”

“…”

“Why? Afraid I might kill you too?”

In truth, the thought hadn’t occurred to Rabiana—but now that he said it, perhaps it could be true.

Human hearts are fickle: she forgot he had defended her and felt only dread. Maybe when he said she would be set free after bearing a child, he had meant sent to the next world.

Rabiana exhaled slowly. It was a life she’d once meant to end anyway. He scared her, but she did not hate him.

“N-no, not at—hic!”

Why did a hiccup have to come now?

“Hic—not—not at—hic—”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Truly—hic! Ugh!”

Rabiana clamped her hand over her mouth, yet the hiccups would not stop. Alberto poured water from the pitcher on the bedside table—the trickling sounded unnaturally loud.

As he had when acting as her attendant, Alberto held the cup to her lips. Rabiana drank in little gulps like a fledgling bird; her hands trembled finely.

Seeing her this frightened twisted something inside him. Moments ago she had smiled so brightly in gratitude.

Instead of explaining, Alberto asked another question.

“Do you want to live?”

“…”

“Do you want to live?”

The earnest question made Rabiana’s heart drop. Rabiana bit her trembling lips hard and nodded. She felt tears rising.

“How… how can I l-live?”

Alberto forced the hint of a smile from his lips, amused that she could still ask while shaking with fear. It wasn’t funny at all.

Rabiana had every reason to be terrified, yet somehow she still seemed almost comical to him.

“Depending on how you behave, My Lady, I will let you live.”

“….”

“If you hadn’t known, you would’ve lived.”

Rabiana felt dizzy.

If she hadn’t opened the window.

If she had gone to sleep on time.

None of this would have happened. That thought filled her with a sudden sadness.

***

From the next day, Rabiana began avoiding Alberto.

His previous words—telling her to stay in her room if she didn’t want to be bothered—now carried an ominous weight.

If she stayed put, she might just disappear one day without a trace.

But there were days she couldn’t avoid him.

Like today, when she had to see Bianca off.

Bianca was incapable of facing the day sober.

When she had hurled her resentment at Alberto, she had spoken with certainty, fully convinced he wasn’t the culprit.

Think about it—who would scream “murderer” to a killer’s face unless they were sure he wasn’t?

But the other day—

That thoroughly fed-up expression Alberto wore when confessing to murder… the low, flat voice…

If that had been a lie, he should’ve become a stage actor. He would’ve been phenomenal.

Now Bianca was worried.

Her eldest son kept coming to mind.

Why had Alberto specifically mentioned him?

She needed to check on her son’s safety—immediately.

And she had no plans of ever stepping foot into the Roen estate again.

No matter how shameful and bitter it was that her family’s estate had ended up in the hands of her enemy, her sons were more important now.

She couldn’t lose even one of them.

“You want to carry the seed of a filthy, lowborn bastard?”

Bianca spat venomously as she glared at Rabiana, who had come to see her off.

Maybe this woman still didn’t know Alberto’s true nature.

But to Bianca, anyone willing to bear the child of that man was just as much the enemy.

“…I was told I’m infertile…”

Bianca scoffed.

The doctor she’d brought in had been under her orders—and had given a false diagnosis.

It was.

Bianca was so fed up with Rabiana’s naive-looking face that she wanted to slap her.

“If you have any sense, you should run.”

“…”

“I don’t hate Alberto himself, even if I can’t stand that child.

What I hate is you. You sitting here, all ready to carry that man’s child.”

“…”

“If you were really infertile, why would I bother chasing you out?”

The thought of Alberto having a child was revolting to Bianca.

She had wanted her second son to inherit the Roen estate, but that dream had already crumbled.

And if that demon of a man ever laid a hand on her precious son… she couldn’t even imagine it.

She couldn’t let her child become a sacrifice.

She had orchestrated the lie about Rabiana’s infertility to nullify the marriage—so she could install a woman of her own choosing.

Infertile women were common enough. Under those same conditions, one loyal to Bianca would have been far preferable.

But overnight, her plans had changed.

She gave up her greed and chose the wiser path—preserving her own life.

“Lowborn bastard…”

Rabiana had overheard the entire conversation between Bianca and Alberto.

When Bianca had denied Alberto’s birthright and disparaged her own sister, Rabiana had felt deeply unsettled.

How had he survived in this estate?

She herself had wanted to flee from just the whispers of the maids—how had he endured hearing all that?

‘There’s no one in this world you can trust. You must remember that, My Lady.’

Even if Bianca’s anxious warnings were right—even if Alberto really had been born under some cursed circumstance—he bore no fault.

“Please don’t say things like that.”

Birth wasn’t a choice.

“At the very least, His Grace… Alberto hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Ha!”

Bianca let out a hollow laugh.

“You’re defending him just because he’s your husband. That blind loyalty is touching—

But you’ll regret it.

Definitely.

Without fail.”

Bianca’s cheek twitched, and she hurried out of the estate.

Rabiana shivered in the chilly draft left behind.

“My lady, shall we go in?”

Rabiana nodded—just as a presence stirred behind her.

“My Lady.”

The wind carried his voice, and her back flinched. The voice that made her heart drop belonged to Alberto.

Moments ago she had defended him, yet now she froze, rigid.

Tap.

“…?”

Something heavy settled on her shoulders—soft, dense, unmistakably animal fur.

What… what is this?

Alberto stepped in front of her and fastened the buttons.

“Fits nicely.”

“W-what is this?”

“Practical gifts please you,” he said.

Thump, thump—Rabiana’s heart pounded wildly.

“I skinned a beast and made you a coat.”

She couldn’t picture it, yet the words sounded like a declaration: misbehave, and he might just skin her.

“Hic—”

Startled, she hiccupped, and Alberto burst into laughter—showing white teeth in genuine amusement.

Alberto had found a new pastime: teasing Rabiana, that helpless little blind woman.