Leaving the Shepherd Monastery was absurdly easy.

By the time Serine returned to the shared dormitory and gathered the few belongings she could discard without regret, the discharge procedures were already complete.

The towering iron gate swung open on its own.

Beyond it, a carriage waited—so lavish it made her let out a hollow laugh.

“Come.”

Standing before it, Valoid draped a thick fur cloak over her shoulders. The fabric melted against her skin like butter—soft, and above all, warm.

“I didn’t bring a physician.”

His gaze swept over the bandage wrapped around her ear.

“This place is so remote it’ll take at least two days to get out. If you want to last, you should get some sleep.”

Even without his suggestion, Serine had already reached her limit.

The moment she sank into the plush seat and rested her head back, her consciousness began to fade.

She drifted through fevered sleep—and each time Valoid woke her, she forced her eyes open just long enough to eat.

“You need to eat if you want that wound to heal.”

She knew that.

But the fever burned through her, her throat and nose swollen, making it impossible to swallow anything properly.

At some point, every time she woke, Valoid’s expression grew more serious.

“Hey. I’m not good at saving people.”

“Don’t die in my carriage. D*mn it.”

Eventually, she could no longer open her eyes at all.

The quiet darkness she had longed for finally came.

Valoid withdrew the hand he had placed against her forehead.

She was burning—feverish, as though her very life were being consumed as fuel.

‘I should’ve gone to her a week earlier.’

He had waited for the Penrose family to make their move first. They would, without a doubt, break even her last bit of will—and a broken flower would fall easily into his grasp.

But he hadn’t considered the possibility that the moment he took hold of it, it might already be withering to death.

“…D*mn.”

A faint sob slipped through her cracked lips, parched from the fever. Tears rolled down beneath her pale golden lashes, lighter even than her hair.

It seemed like she might cry for a moment and stop but the sobbing didn’t fade.

Her fragile skin reddened as tears kept flowing without end.

If the fever brought dehydration too, that would be the end of her. Irritated, Valoid pressed a handkerchief against her eyes.

“Stop crying.”

“Mi… wuh…”

“What?”

“I… hate… you…”

Even at the best of times, Serine’s speech had been slightly unclear. But now, delirious with fever, she sounded like a child.

“Hngh… because of you…”

“Oh, you hate me? Because your life’s been ruined because of me? You can’t even stand the sight of me?”

Her lips trembled.

He pinched the soft, petal-like flesh lightly and let out a short laugh.

“And what are you going to do about it? You have nowhere else to go but me.”

“I… don’t… want… to…”

“You don’t get a choice. You’re mine.”

His words, sweet as poison, slipped from his lips as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. He smoothed back her sweat-damp hair and let her lean against his shoulder.

Instinctively, Serine sought out a more comfortable position. She rested her cheek in the hollow between his neck and collarbone, letting out a small sigh.

When he wrapped an arm around her waist, she even nuzzled closer.

“Mother…”

Her tears soaked into his shoulder, dampening the fabric.

The soft, broken sounds of her crying clung to his ears like the whimpering of a wounded animal.

“I’m… sorry… I was wrong… please don’t abandon me…”

Burning with fever, she begged endlessly.

Begged for forgiveness.
Begged for affection.

Something so fragile, so fleetingly beautiful—and so utterly useful.

‘How do I make sure you can never leave me?’

***

Rivi Hilnet had been the youngest prince Valoid’s playmate since childhood.

As she grew older, she came to serve him as a maid.

Even after Valoid became the Grand Duke of Cardinel, she followed him down to his territory.

Rivi used to say it often.

The way she smiled, as if she couldn’t help it, revealed both her affection and her respect for her master.

But today, even Rivi couldn’t smile.

“Your Highness… that lady…?”

Rivi managed the country house in Cardinel’s domain. Since Serinne had been staying at the townhouse in the capital, the two had never met.

“I told you already. A female guest would be arriving. Didn’t you prepare?”

“So… I assumed she’d arrive alive.”

The woman she had only heard about was drenched in cold sweat from head to toe.

At first, her breathtaking beauty had stolen Rivi’s gaze—but looking closer, her condition was alarming.

She was far too thin, and her face burned red with fever.

Her breathing seemed on the verge of failing at any moment, sending a chill down Rivi’s spine.

“Sh-should I call the physician?”

“Run. Now. One, two, three.”

“Ah—! Yes, Your Highness!”

Rivi let out a startled cry and dashed off. By the time the Grand Duke’s physician was dragged in from tending the herb garden, Valoid had already carried Serine into the examination room and laid her down.

“Hey. We’re here. Dying now would be the stupidest thing you could do.”

Valoid gave a short, incredulous laugh as he lightly shook her limp body.

‘Talking like this to someone who can’t even hear… who’s the real fool here?’

Fortunately, his physician was competent.

With swift treatment, Serine barely stabilized.

Watching from behind, Valoid called out to Rivi.

“Come here a moment.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

As she followed him, Rivi made a guess.

The Grand Duke would likely give instructions regarding how to treat the “female guest.”

As expected, he lit a cigar and spoke.

“Take good care of her. She’s starved for affection.”

“Of course, I will attend to our guest properly.”

“Not just properly. Treat her so well she thinks she’s the Grand Duchess. Can you do that?”

The request went beyond anything Rivi had anticipated. Her eyes wavered, but she quickly clasped her hands together to steady herself and asked carefully,

“Your Highness… will I have the honor of serving her as the future mistress of this household?”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

Valoid rounded his lower lip as he exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

“I said she should think that, Rivi.”

“Ah… of course. My apologies.”

“Keep your head clear. You have to avoid being deceived yourself if you want to deceive others.”

“I will remember that, Your Highness.”

A smooth smile returned to Rivi’s lips.

***

Serine hovered at death’s door—and came back.

Though the Grand Duke’s physician and servants cared for her devotedly, it still took a full week before she could finally leave her bed.

“It’s your first time coming all the way to Cardinel’s territory, isn’t it, my lady?”

Rivi, the estate’s overseer, showed Serine around the property, paying her polite attention.

The newly built residence was vast and refined. Soft ivory walls contrasted with deep crimson flooring. Intricate gold engravings adorned the white columns and a grand chandelier hung from a ceiling adorned with a magnificent painting. Sculptures and candelabras were placed throughout the residence, and the scent of fresh wood lingered in the newly furnished rooms.

“I often had the honor of attending to the late Queen Mother. She was particularly fond of her youngest son, Lord Valoid. Everyone admires this residence, which was granted to the royal family.”

“Yes… it’s truly magnificent.”

“Oh, please speak more casually with me, Lady Serine.”

Lady Serine had never met the late Queen Mother.

Only nobles without any disqualifying factors were permitted to enter the royal palace. In other words, Serine, who was hard of hearing, had never been permitted to set foot inside.

It was an outdated custom, but that was how things had always been at the palace.

“Today, I met His Highness Vermouth. I also met Her Majesty the Queen. They were both so young and beautiful! Can you believe it? They even called me pretty and said I was clever, just like a true daughter of the Marquess Penrose.”

Suzanna, fresh from her debutante ball that year, had come running in, chattering endlessly.

What expression had she worn back then, as she listened to Suzanna boast?

“Beyond this entrance are five gardens. At this time of year, the autumn rose garden is the most beautiful. Shall I take you there?”

“Yes, please.”

As Rivi opened the door, Serine’s gaze lingered on the silver brooch pinned to the front pocket of her navy jacket—a mark of the estate’s chief steward.

For someone in such a position to be personally guiding her through the gardens…

“Aren’t you busy? You could leave this to one of the maids.”

“What are you saying? It is only proper that I attend to you myself.”

Serine was not foolish enough to miss the subtle flattery behind Rivi’s overly courteous tone.

‘Is there some misunderstanding? I’m not that kind of person to him…’

She felt a flicker of unease, even resentment toward Valoid for not explaining things properly.

“Where is His Highness now?”

“Ah—he’s coming this way just now.”

And indeed, there he was.

Valoid was striding toward them from the opposite side wearing a smile so dangerously alluring that anyone would misunderstand.