‘Yes, don’t get your hopes up too much.’
Though she kept telling herself that, deep down, Regina was desperate.

She had left her hometown – where she had lived all her life – just to be with Grey.

And now that even he was no longer truly by her side, she withered a little more each day in the grip of crushing loneliness.

She missed what it felt like—to love someone and be loved in return.

The ache of that absence brought tears to her eyes.

Perhaps it was because she wanted it so badly.

When the third month passed without a period, Regina finally went for a proper check-up.

“It’s too early to say for sure… but it looks like you’re pregnant. Congratulations.”

The doctor smiled as he explained that she had all the typical symptoms of early pregnancy.

Regina went straight to Barbara to tell her the news.

“You’re pregnant? Is it true?”

Her usually stern and distant mother-in-law widened her eyes in disbelief and jumped for joy.

“Good heavens! Thank you, thank you so much!”

Then, realising what had to be done, Barbara stormed out of the room, kicking every knight she passed.

“Go! Get that rascal Grey! Bring him here, now!”

Despite not having seen him for nearly three months, Grey appeared in less than fifteen minutes.

His cold, unreadable face was the same as always – but something about him seemed agitated and shaken.

“Is it true?”

Like mother, like son – even the way he asked mirrored Barbara.

Regina nodded hesitantly.

At that, Grey – who had been standing stiffly – took her in his arms.

He didn’t thank her. He didn’t apologise for the past months.

But the pounding of his heart and his shaky, uneven breathing said it all: he was so happy he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Grey’s attitude changed overnight.

He cut back on his work, came home regularly for dinner with Regina and brought her presents each time.

“If our child is a girl…”

The man who had known nothing but wealth and ambition all his life was now constantly talking about their baby.

It was as if he couldn’t contain the thought and had to say it out loud.

The change was unfamiliar – but not unwelcome.

Regina listened with a smile.

She loved this baby – whose face and even gender she didn’t yet know – with all her heart.

Those few months were undoubtedly the happiest of Regina’s life.

That is, until just before her expected due date – when she was told her pregnancy had never been real.

***

It felt like waking up from a long, painful dream.

Regina slowly opened her heavy eyelids, only to close them again immediately – the sunlight was far too bright for morning, piercing her eyes like sharp spears.

Her throat was dry, her head throbbing and every part of her body aching.

But it was her lower half that hurt the most – burning, raw and feverish, as if she’d been thrown into a raging fire.

“You must open yourself, my lady. How else can you receive the seed?”

Regina’s cheeks flushed at the memory of the night before.

“It was to be a son – for the sake of the family line… but I found myself hoping for a daughter. One who looked like you.”

There was a strange bitterness to his voice in her memory. Or was it just her imagination?

A phantom pregnancy.

But it had felt heartbreakingly real to Regina.

She had wanted it so badly that her body had responded on its own – and that made the loss all the more devastating.

She had imagined the child thousands – tens of thousands – of times.

What colour eyes would they have?

Would they inherit her brown hair or Grey’s silver?

Would they be gentle and quiet by nature? What name would suit them best? What talents might blossom as they grew?

She had even dreamed of capturing their growth in family portraits each summer and taking them to the Wheat Harvest Festival at Odair Manor each autumn.

But none of that was ever going to happen.

It was strange, really.

People said she hadn’t really lost anything.

But Regina knew the truth.

She had lost a child.

Her chest ached as if it had been crushed, and her stomach felt as if something had ripped through it – leaving a hole that nothing could fill.

Whenever she saw an open window or a high balcony, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to just let go.

And yet, because what she had lost had no physical form, no one could truly understand her pain.

”Even now… I can’t let go of the thought of that child. How pathetic am I?’

Disgusted with herself, Regina forced her body upright.

She was surprised at how easily she could lift herself out of bed now.

Of course, her mind wandered back to a time when that hadn’t been the case.

‘What exactly was in that poison I took a year ago… that made me like this?’

That wasn’t the only strange thing.

She remembered carelessly tossing the empty vial aside after she had finished.

‘Surely someone should have found that discarded bottle.’

A skilled doctor had examined Regina’s body thoroughly – and still failed to notice that she had ingested poison.

So she had avoided the scandal of a suicide attempt, but the more she thought about it, the more bizarre it all seemed.

‘I can’t even remember where I got the bottle. Was it in the port of Kapten? Or perhaps somewhere along the road to Cabil Manor?’

Her memories were dim, and only one scene vaguely came to mind.

A gypsy in a worn emerald robe, embroidered with a strange pattern.

‘Even her voice was unusual, I think.’

It had been an unforgettable voice… and yet she couldn’t quite remember it.

What she remembered most were the words that person had spoken –

“With just one bottle, all your suffering will end.”

END, they had said.

But what followed had been the beginning of worse suffering.

As she fumbled through the blurred past – its shape distorted by time – she finally registered a knock at the door.

“My lady! The sun is high in the sky. Time to rise!”

Dain, probably. Regina tried to answer, but her throat was so dry and sore that no sound came out.

“Still asleep? I’m coming in!”

At moments like this, Dain’s rudeness occasionally proved useful.

She burst in, then froze when their eyes met.

“Oh! You’re awake? You could’ve said something!”

Dain no longer treated Regina with outright contempt as she had before – but she still managed to get on her nerves with subtle grumbles and passive-aggressive jabs.

“Oh my – what happened to the sheets this time?”

Only then did Regina look down at the bed and notice the sheets, stained with fluids and blood.

It was a mess, far worse than one might expect after a single night together.

“Maybe my period hadn’t finished yet…”

Regina felt a wave of shame – quickly followed by disappointment.

Despite all of Grey’s promises, it seemed that once again she wouldn’t be able to conceive a child.

“Honestly… what am I supposed to do with this?”

Dain lifted a corner of the sheet with her index finger, as if handling something dirty and disgusting.

“What are we going to do? The last set of sheets didn’t come clean either. The maids had such a hard time with them.”

It seemed that Regina had been too lenient with Dain lately.

Without a word, she reached for the water glass on the bedside table.

First she would soothe her sore throat – then she’d show Dain what real trouble looked like.

“Look at the quality of these sheets. What a waste! If the master knew that such a precious item – brought from overseas – was being ruined like this, I can’t imagine what he would say. Just thinking about it makes me feel so ashamed on his behalf…”

“Why do you feel that way?”

The voice came from Grey, who had just stepped through the already open door.

“Ashamed? And who exactly are you to feel that way?”

“M-Master?”

Startled as if she’d been doused with cold water, Dain threw the sheet aside and scrambled to smooth her hair and fix her collar.

But Grey didn’t spare her a glance.

His eyes went straight to the crumpled sheets.

They flicked briefly at the blood-stained fabric – his expression twitching slightly – but quickly returned to a calm, unreadable face.

“You said I bought these?”

He nudged the sheet with the toe of his shoe and turned it over, startling Regina as well.

“Judging by the embroidery, it’s Marika’s silk.”

He lit a cigar and murmured through vague words and smoke.

“Normally there are 120 seeds per bolt. Since it’s undyed natural with bee cross-stitch detail, you could say 140. Must have used at least three bolts, so 420 seeds, give or take…”

He paused, his gaze narrowing like a sly cat’s.

“You’ll need more than that to bankrupt me. You might as well fill the whole house with sheets, like a magpie’s nest.”

Then, with astonishing nonchalance, he stubbed out his cigar on the sheet, as if the bed itself were a giant ashtray.

“Kyaaah! What are you doing?!”

Dain shouted at the sight of the silk blackening under the burning ember.