When Breti turned toward the voice, she saw a gaunt old woman watching her intently. Moving carefully, Breti approached her.

“Grandmother, are you all right?”

“Could you spare me a little water?”

The old woman’s voice was thin and raspy, barely more than a whisper.

Breti’s heart went out to her at the pitiful sight.

“Bagi, do you have any water?”

“Yes, miss. Here you go.”

Breti quickly asked Bagi, who was just behind her, and received the water bottle. She handed it to the old woman.

The woman drank greedily, as if she hadn’t had water in days. Only when she had emptied the bottle did she finally lower it from her lips.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing, grandmother.”

Breti replied, taking the empty bottle back into her hands.

“Is there anything else you need? Are you hungry at all?”

“I’m all right, you have such a warm heart, young lady.”

“…No, I don’t.”

Breti shook her head and looked down, denying the compliment.

‘If I truly had a warm heart, I would never have done something so unforgivable with Karsten…’

As worry crept back onto her face, the old woman spoke again.

“I have nothing to offer you in return, so let me give you a bit of advice.”

“…Advice?”

“Don’t let yourself get caught by a man who dreams.”

Breti blinked in confusion at the old woman’s sudden words.

‘A man who dreams? What does that even mean?’

“What do you mean? A man who dreams?”

“And don’t let yourself be caught by a man who cannot dream, either.”

The cryptic words left Breti speechless, her eyes wide with bewilderment. But instead of explaining, the old woman carefully handed her something.

“Always wear it on your wrist.”

What she handed Breti was a bracelet, strung together with beads on a fishing line. As Breti stared at the bracelet in her hand, she wondered if the woman had been waiting here because she couldn’t sell her wares.

“Bagi, could you give me my coin pouch?”

Breti took the pouch from Bagi, intending to pay more than enough for the bracelet.

“How much is it?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The unexpected answer left Breti confused.

“There’s nothing in this world that could be worth more than your heart, young lady.”

With a gentle smile, the old woman gazed at her.

“Miss, if you ever feel you can’t endure the pain—because of a dreamer, or someone who can’t dream…”

“…”

“Just break it.”

For a moment, Breti thought she might be getting an answer, but the old woman’s words only became more cryptic.

“Then your suffering will end.”

What could she possibly mean? Breti tilted her head, unable to make sense of it.

“That’s all I can tell you.”

The old woman said softly. Then, with a polite bow, she disappeared into the alley.

Breti stood there, too stunned even to return the gesture, staring blankly at the colorful bracelet.

Just then—

“My lady!”

Gabriel came running back toward her.

“Your Highness, what—”

“What are you thinking, wandering off like that?”

Gabriel’s face was pale with worry.

“If I were to lose you again, have you considered what kind of scolding I’d get from your brother?”

Gabriel’s words were playful, but his tone was thick with genuine worry. He continued fussing over her, but none of it really registered with Breti.

‘Don’t let yourself get caught by a man who dreams…’

Breti kept turning the old woman’s cryptic words over and over in her mind.

‘A man who dreams.’

Why did those words linger so sharply in her heart? As she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, Breti resolved,

‘For now, I’ll just keep it on.’

She wasn’t about to put all her trust in a chance encounter on the street, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore the old woman’s warning. She quietly promised herself that, if she ever met the woman again, she’d ask for an answer.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

That morning, Jerron paid a discreet visit to the Imperial Palace—once again heading straight for Pophia Palace. Clutching a folded piece of cloth tightly in one hand, he hurried his steps.

Inside the parlor, Eglét paced anxiously as she waited for him.

‘A message has arrived for the Marquis.’

Her restlessness had begun ever since the news from Jerron came.

‘It must be that message, surely…’

Just then, the door opened and Jerron entered. Eglét’s eyes lit up, as if searching for a precious treasure.

“A carrier pigeon has arrived from the Jackal.”

‘Jackal.’

The very word Karsten had once spoken now came from Jerron’s lips. At that, a faint glimmer of hope appeared on Eglet’s face.

Jackal was a code word—one that referred to a spy planted within House White or in Foldron.

“And?”

“The Jackal says… the wolf hunt was a success.”

The “wolf” they spoke of was Karsten.

Hearing that their planted agent had succeeded in k*lling Karsten, a bright smile spread across Eglet’s face.

“My, House White will be drowning in grief. To lose their lord overnight…”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. At least one of our burdens has been lifted. You should be pleased, Your Majesty, the Empress.”

“No. It’s too soon to celebrate, we need to make sure House White hears this tragic news as well. Lady Cage.”

Eglet called for Lady Cage, who was waiting nearby. Lady Cage quickly approached and bowed.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“There’s something I need you to do.”

“Give the order, and it will be done.”

Eglet smiled faintly.

“Spread the rumor through the markets that the head of House White has been murdered.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Without another word, Lady Cage departed to carry out the Empress’s command.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

Early that morning, Breti left her room. As she walked, her eyes lingered on the bracelet the old woman had given her.

But today, the ducal estate felt especially restless.

When Breti made her way down toward the dining room, she saw two maids huddled together, whispering in hushed voices. Breti glanced around at the other servants, then strained her ears to catch their conversation.

“Is it really true?”

“Yes! I just came back from the marketplace and heard it myself.”

“But how could something like that happen to His Grace the Duke…!”

The moment one maid uttered the words “His Grace the Duke,” Breti’s heart began to pound violently in her chest. She forced her trembling legs to approach the maids.

“What are you talking about?”

“O-oh, miss!”

The maids jumped in surprise at her sudden appearance, glancing nervously at her, as if afraid they might be scolded.

“I asked what you were talking about.”

“Um, well…”

“It’s all right. I’m not here to scold you—just tell me.”

Reassured by her gentle tone, the maids exchanged glances before one finally spoke.

“Earlier, while shopping in the market with the head maid, we heard a story…”

“What kind of story?”

The maid faltered, then burst into tears, sinking to the floor and bowing her head.

“They said… they said His Grace was attacked and killed…!”

For a moment, it felt as if the world went dark before Breti’s eyes.

‘What did I just hear? Did I really hear that? That he’s… gone?’

As Breti stood there in shock and confusion, a sudden cry rang out behind her.

“Madam!”

She turned in alarm and saw Meliover collapse into the arms of her closest maid, Rosand.

“M-Mother!”