Shortly afterwards, the attending physician arrived at the estate, having been summoned at short notice. It was nearly midnight. Still half-asleep, he went straight to the duke’s bedroom.

“Your Grace! A fire, you say—are you badly injured?”

The physician spotted the duke seated in a chair and hurried over to him, placing his medical bag by his side. The faint scent of smoke clinging to the robe draped over Logan’s shoulders spoke quietly of what had happened. The urgency in the room was unmistakable.

The duke, who valued his composure and appearance above all else, stood before him utterly disheveled.

Seeing him like that, the doctor felt his heart tighten.

“Not me. See to her first.”

Logan redirected the doctor’s attention towards the bed.

On it lay a woman who looked as though she had just been pulled from a burning building. Even at first glance, it was clear that her condition was serious. The physician’s brow furrowed deeply.

He put on his glasses and examined Bella meticulously. As he had suspected, the woman’s breathing, having been rescued from a fire, was faint — so fragile that it seemed it might stop at any moment.

“You’re saying her heart stopped?”

“Yes. Her breathing resumed quickly after the emergency measures, but she has yet to fully regain consciousness. She wakes for a moment, then slips back into a faint.”

“It appears she was exposed to smoke for a considerable time. She has also sustained multiple burns. If the rescue had been delayed even slightly, it would have been fatal.”

The physician continued speaking to the duke as he worked. First, he administered a painkiller to ease the suffering of the woman who seemed tormented by pain even in unconsciousness. Then he began tending to her burns.

“For now, all I can do is lower her fever and prevent the burn wounds from worsening. She is in no condition to undergo surgery…”

He carefully applied ointment to the reddened, blistered skin before wrapping it in clean bandages. What he had initially believed to be limited to burns proved to be far more extensive. Her body was marred with bruises and other signs of trauma.

At the very least, there were no broken bones.

That, at least, was a small mercy.

Unable to comprehend the ordeal the woman had endured, the physician approached her with caution, glancing at the duke.

Although the woman’s condition was critical, he was equally concerned about Logan’s injury. The duke’s arm was clearly injured.

“I have done all I can for now. But I cannot guarantee how long she will hold on. We must also consider the possibility of lung damage. Since we cannot yet determine where she is feeling pain, observation and patience are our only options.”

By the time he had finished, Bella’s body was wrapped in bandages from head to toe — her head, wrists, arms, and legs were swathed in white gauze, as though she were made of something fragile and breakable. The painkiller had eased the tension etched on her face, yet her breathing remained shallow and uneven.

“I will stay with her tonight. You will remain at the estate for the time being and devote yourself entirely to her treatment. If you require anything, inform the head butler and have it brought from the hospital.”

Although the physician’s words had offered little reassurance, Logan delivered his orders with steady authority. Only someone looking closely would have noticed the tension coiled beneath his calm exterior.

“Your Grace must receive treatment immediately as well.”

The physician turned to face him fully.

The robe draped over Logan’s shoulders could not hide the unmistakable signs that he had been in the heart of the flames. Throughout their conversation, a rough, metallic rasp had threaded through his voice, indicating that he had inhaled smoke too.

After glancing at Bella one last time as she lay on the bed, Logan quietly removed his robe and held out his arm.

The injury concealed beneath the loosely hanging cloth was far worse than the doctor had imagined.

The doctor carefully examined the burns along Logan’s right arm. The flesh was blistered and split open, with blood and fl*id seeping from the raw, damaged skin. Melted fabric had fused grotesquely into the wound, clinging stubbornly to his flesh.

As the doctor used sterilized tweezers to peel away the charred remnants of cloth, Logan felt searing agony rippling through him as the skin beneath was torn.

“—Hrk.”

Logan’s jaw tightened and the muscles in his face hardened as he endured the pain. His body trembled, but he did not pull his arm away.

“Continue.”

The physician, who had paused to gauge his reaction, resumed at the duke’s command, slowly lifting the fused fabric. The pain was relentless, like a blade scraping against exposed flesh.

Logan ground his teeth and swallowed back every sound that threatened to escape. His breathing became more labored.

Even while receiving treatment, he never once took his gaze from Bella.

“…Y-Young Master?”

The single word she had uttered before losing consciousness echoed in his ears.

Since inheriting the ducal title upon reaching adulthood, no one had called him that.

‘Isabella.’

The memory of the day he lost her was superimposed on the sight of Isabella lying amid the flames.

Bella wins.

She was the unfortunate girl who had been buried beneath the wreckage and was never found in time. She was laid to rest without ever having been properly recovered.

“Have you ever thought that maid resembles Isabella?”

Amelia had never met Isabella before.

When the Count’s family visited the ducal estate, she was by his side. He had once told Vincent that a young girl was staying with him, but he did not know what she looked like.

So how did Amelia know Isabella?

‘Could it truly be you…?’

“It’s done.”

Logan came to at the sound of the doctor’s voice.

Having swiftly removed the foreign debris to minimize further pain, the doctor tightly secured the final bandage around the wound.

“Given the size and severity of the burn, I’m afraid the scarring will be unavoidable. However, if you are concerned about the scarring, I would recommend corrective surgery once the wound has healed sufficiently.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Logan lowered his gaze to his arm.

Any scars that did not hinder movement were not worth considering.

Bella’s life mattered far more.

“You may feel all right for now, but as with any accident, complications can arise. You must not overexert yourself under any circumstances.”

In response to the doctor’s earnest plea, Logan nodded silently instead of answering.

Nevertheless, the doctor cast him a doubtful glance, seemingly unconvinced by a man who appeared far more concerned about the woman on the bed than his own condition. Gathering his medical bag, he quietly left.

When the door closed, silence settled over the room.

Logan rose and moved to the bedside, taking his seat near Bella.

‘She looks exhausted.’

He leaned back in the cushioned chair and closed his eyes.

Ever since Bella went missing and throughout the frantic search for her, his body had been in a constant state of tension. Now, it was as though he was sinking beneath dark water, the tension dragging him downwards with unrelenting heaviness.

***

In suffocating darkness, Bella drifted as though floating through deep water.

‘Where am I…?’

She looked around.

Reaching out, she stretched her hands into the void, feeling her way through the darkness. There was nothing to see or hold. No matter how far she wandered through the unseen space, her fingers closed around emptiness.

Then, without warning, a burst of light split the darkness apart.

Memories poured in like an unrestrained tide.

One moment she was five years old.

The next, she was nine.

Fragments of her childhood unfolded in disarray, as though the pages of her life had been scattered and left to drift in the wind.

She remembered sitting beside her mother, learning to weave wildflowers into a wreath with her small, clumsy fingers, carefully threading the delicate stems together. She recalled celebrating her sixth birthday in a modest room at the estate, sharing a slice of cake with her parents. She remembered the exact moment her father let go of the bicycle and she realized that she was riding on her own for the first time.

Every memory was warm.

They felt as though they had been crafted to soothe the ache she had always carried — the quiet, persistent longing for a happy family.

This was the perfect family she had always imagined, born from the heart of someone who had once been abandoned.

“Are you stupid? How old are you, and you still can’t read?”

The memory shifted to the first time she had tried to learn letters. She lay on her stomach on the library floor, drawing pictures, when a boy her age spoke to her.

“I might not know! I’ve never been taught!”

Although the Empire had made significant technological and transport advances, education remained inaccessible to most citizens. Public schools, which were managed by the imperial family, were only accessible to relatively wealthy commoners. The majority of people still could not read.

“…Really?”

The boy stared at her in astonishment, as if he had never considered such a possibility.

“You’ve really never learned?”

Even indoors, he wore neat, refined clothing. At a glance, it was clear he came from a noble household.

“I’ll teach you.”

The boy sat up straight and turned to the back of the notebook, where he had been working. Bella watched as he carefully wrote out the imperial alphabet in order.

His blue eyes were earnest and focused. A lock of hair fell across his lips, but he brushed it behind his ear before continuing to form each letter with deliberate precision.

‘Your Grace…?’

The familiar features hidden within that youthful face startled her.