Left alone, Daphne stared blankly at his retreating figure. The strength drained from her legs and she lowered herself back onto the edge of the fountain.

The steady sound of rushing water came from behind her.

‘He knows who I am…’

As she sat there in a daze, passers-by glanced at her curiously. Her mind was a tangled mess.

Had her identity been exposed? If so, would Oswald protect her?

She sat there for a long time. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a pair of legs came into view.

“You must have waited long.”

Oswald’s voice came from above. Daphne looked up at him, then rose to her feet with an effortful smile.

She couldn’t tell him.

He was the very man who might cut the frayed rope she was clinging to the moment it no longer suited him.

＊ ＊ ＊

Back at the estate, Daphne went straight to her room and locked the door behind her. She didn’t hear the servants greet her as she passed by.

Her head was spinning with confusion and fear. Her heart was pounding so fast that she thought she might die.

Curtis Gordon.

‘How? How could he know?’

Judge Curtis Gordon was a high-ranking official with access to information.

But had she ever done anything suspicious? Had she done anything that might expose her?

Greta had repeated the same assurance countless times.

No one had ever seen Allen Howard’s adult face.

Daphne climbed onto the bed and drew her knees up to her chest. Curled up, she stared blankly out of the window.

Could she really trust Greta’s words?

Did she have anyone on her side in this mansion?

If everything she was experiencing now — this entire performance — had been based on lies from the outset…

What was she supposed to do to survive?

She had no idea what Curtis wanted or why he was acting like this towards her. She wasn’t ready to face him at all. At the very least, she needed time: time to prepare and time to understand his intentions.

Her gaze wandered uneasily around the room. Then her eyes landed on the desk.

In that moment, a memory she had completely forgotten surfaced.

‘The revolver.’

Hurrying to the desk, she remembered the weapon she had shoved into a drawer and tried to forget about.

Her hands shook as she searched for the hidden key. When she finally unlocked the drawer and slid it open, the revolver was exactly where she had left it.

After making sure the door was locked, she carefully lifted the gun out.

She held the gun. The coldness of the metal felt unsettlingly familiar, but she pushed that feeling aside and raised the gun towards the window to test her aim.

Not far away, she could see the steeple of a low building. On the sharp tip of its red roof, a single bird was perched quietly.

Daphne aligned her sights with the bird.

She knew she could hit it. Without hesitation, without doubt.

It wasn’t the first time; she could feel that with absolute certainty.

Her gaze narrowed along the line of the barrel. As she held the gun, her heart steadied, her breathing became regular and she felt a deep, focused calm settle over her mind.

“Haa…”

She inhaled deeply, then let the air slip out.

“Haa… ha.”

Again.

Repeating the process, calmer and calmer, she thought:

‘The only way I can survive is if Oswald protects me.’

It was the only rope she had left to hold on to. Even if it was frayed. Even if it was already falling apart.

Daphne stayed curled up in her room until night fell over the mansion. Claiming to be unwell, she skipped her meals and turned away anyone who came to check on her.

When the hallway finally fell silent, she crept out like a wary stray cat and made her way towards Oswald’s door.

She had never approached her husband’s room alone before.

Holding her breath and feeling tense and unsure, she knocked. She heard faint movement from inside.

Turning the handle, she stepped inside. The room was laid out similarly to her own.

Oswald was sitting on the sofa, drink in hand. Once again, she found herself thinking that he truly loved alcohol.

He looked mildly surprised to see her at the door instead of a servant.

“…I heard you weren’t feeling well.”

Daphne sat across from him with a calm expression.

Perhaps he had drunk a great deal, though he wore his usual cold expression, she could now recognize it. His face held a faint flush. Even the small gestures showed it. Just like that night.

“I have something to ask you.”

She finally spoke the words she had rehearsed. Oswald, unfazed, lifted the bottle and refilled the empty glass he had just drained.

“Go on.”

The sound of liquor pouring into the glass was slow, quiet.

“What are you planning to do with me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

He raised one corner of his mouth in a mocking smile. Daphne ignored it and continued.

“You’re not concerned at all that Curtis seems to know who I am.”

Whether he was listening or not, he only clinked the ice around in his glass. The sharp sound of ice striking glass grated on her nerves.

“…What do you expect me to do?”

His voice came after a pause. Daphne looked at him.

“You expect me to protect you?”

“Even if something like this would happen eventually, it’s far too early to have my identity exposed.”

“Things did escalate a bit sooner than expected.”

He agreed quietly.

Daphne bit her lip before continuing.

“Curtis knows who I am.”

It was a bold statement, yet Oswald’s expression didn’t change. She couldn’t tell whether he was simply skilled at hiding emotion or too drunk to react. Watching his face, she pressed on.

She continued, watching his expression carefully.

“Curtis knew my real name. I don’t know how, or how much he’s learned. Is there something I don’t know?”

Oswald listened in silence, wetting his lips with the liquor in his glass. Or—was he even listening? Daphne couldn’t be sure.

“Did you meet him?”

The question came slowly.

“Yes.”

At her answer, Oswald set down the glass he had been holding the entire time. He stared past the window, as though lost in thought. His expression looked strangely unsettled.

Daphne let out an exasperated sigh. Oswald immediately shot her a sharp look. She glared right back, refusing to flinch.

“When?”

“Today.”

His expression darkened even further. He looked as if something had angered him, right when Daphne was starting to wonder why, he suddenly rose and seized her by the arm.

“W-wait—!”

Caught off guard, she stumbled to her feet. As his body moved closer, Daphne could sense it clearly—he was heavily drunk.

“Let go of me!”

She hissed the words, struggling against his grip. In the process, a glass tumbled from the table and crashed to the floor with a sharp explosion of sound. But Oswald didn’t spare it a glance. His attention was fixed entirely on her.

He pushed her backwards until her spine met the window. Daphne looked up at him, her wrists pinned high above her head. The movement was simple yet absolute — total restraint. Her hands were locked in place with no possibility of slipping free. Oswald’s expression remained cold and unreadable, but his grip on her wrists was harsh and almost painful.

“What did you talk about?”

“L-let go… let go and I’ll tell you—”

“Why should I?”

‘You’re a prisoner.’

The words he didn’t say echoed just as clearly in her ears.

She could sense the anger simmering beneath his cold tone. Her arms ached as though they were being punished, yet he showed no sign of letting go. She let out a small, reluctant, resigned sigh.

“That’s everything I said.”

His face lowered inch by inch. A wave of his scent washed over her. His nose hovered close enough to hers to brush hers. Strands of his hair, loosened as he bent closer, brushed against her cheek.

“Really?”

“I—I swear.”

Her voice trembled. There was a reason why he was called a war hero. His presence was overwhelming. The killing intent radiating from him made her hold her breath and drop her gaze involuntarily.

But even that answer didn’t seem enough. His free hand lifted and cupped her cheek.

“How would I know what lies come out of this mouth?”

His thumb traced over her lips. Startled, Daphne looked up at him, only to be met with that same unreadable expression; not a hint of emotion broke through.

“That really is everything. As soon as he said my name, I ran away…”

“……”

Rather than reply, he hooked a finger at the corner of her mouth and tugged. Daphne tried to turn her head to avoid him, but the hand gripping her jaw held her firmly in place.