“……”

Lying in bed, Ivnen kept still, feigning sleep, while she felt Bjorn’s hands smoothing her hair.

It had already been months since she first fell ill with a sickness no one could explain.

For her husband Bjorn to show this kind of tenderness — it was the first time.

And it wasn’t only since she’d taken ill. Looking back across the full year of their marriage, it had always been the same.

For other couples, the newlywed period would be blazing with passion. But not for Ivnen.

Bjorn had never once shown interest in her — his own wife.

So Ivnen thought she must be dreaming. If this weren’t a dream, Bjorn would never act this gently toward her.

And yet the warmth was unmistakably real — vivid in Bjorn’s large hand as it brushed her hair, her cheek.

The moment she understood that none of this was a dream, even the excruciating pain that no amount of medicine had been able to ease seemed, somehow, to melt away.

“The sunlight is warm today, Ivnen.”

At last, Bjorn whispered against her ear, his voice low and hushed.

“Not a cloud in the sky. The kind of weather you love.”

How does he know that. He’s never once asked me.

In truth, the things Bjorn had never asked were far more than just this. Her favorite weather. Her favorite color. Her favorite food……

He had never been curious about a single thing that was hers.

His attention had always been fixed on one person alone — his mistress.

Even so, it was enough.

Just as Bjorn loved his mistress — whose name and face Ivnen didn’t know — with his whole heart, Ivnen loved her husband with hers.

“I thought you might want to take a short walk.”

Without meaning to, Ivnen’s eyes lit up. Like a dog jolted from a nap by the promise of a treat.

“……”

When she opened her eyes, Bjorn looked down at her in silence for a moment, then let out a quiet, brief laugh.

The pale of Ivnen’s cheeks warmed to a faint blush.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m — I’m fine.”

She rushed to continue.

“I — I want to go on that walk. And I think getting some air would help me feel even better……”

To his mistress, a sweet offer like this was probably something she could hear any day. But Ivnen’s circumstances were different. So even if she had to lie, she wanted to hold on to this chance with both hands.

“All right.”

And mercifully, it seemed Bjorn was willing to grant her wish.

“It’ll only be a short one — but if that’s enough for you.”

“That’s fine.”

Bjorn smiled briefly.

“I’ve asked Dek to bring tea, so you only need to be back before it goes cold.”

Truly just a short window of time. She couldn’t afford to waste any more of it. Ivnen’s heart quickened as she pushed herself up from the bed with great effort.

And immediately swayed hard.

“……”

The room spun before her eyes. Her body had no strength to speak of, and nausea rose in her throat with a bitter taste.

The pain that had barely settled surged back and swallowed her whole. Ivnen let out a ragged breath, gasping, and sank down onto the floor.

“Ivnen.”

Bjorn crossed to her quickly and took hold of her shoulders with care.

“I — I really am fine……”

Saying such a thing with a face that was plainly anything but — there was no deceiving Bjorn with that. Still, Ivnen kept the lies coming. That she really was fine. That she wanted to go out, please, right now.

“My lord. My lady.”

But before Ivnen could press Bjorn any further, Dek’s voice came from beyond the closed door.

“It’s Dek. I’m coming in.”

The door opened, and Dek stepped into the bedroom carrying a tray with a teacup.

“My — my lady!”

The maid Dek caught sight of Ivnen crumpled on the floor, hastily set the tray down on the table, and turned back to her.

“Don’t make a fuss, Dek.”

Bjorn gathered Ivnen into his arms and laid his wife back onto the bed.

“Leave it and go. Now.”

Dek said nothing. She only looked at Ivnen with an expression that seemed on the verge of tears. But against the Count’s voice, sharp as a blade, she had no choice but to give a small nod in the end.

With Dek gone, the bedroom fell quiet almost at once. The only thing breaking that stillness from time to time was the harsh sound of Ivnen’s coughing.

Cough, cough. Bjorn watched Ivnen struggle through her suffering with an expression impossible to read.

“Ha — hah……”

Only after a long while did the coughing finally stop. Ivnen gasped as though she might die at any moment, and Bjorn’s face tightened slightly.

“Count……”

Ivnen clutched the blanket — her only outlet — and watched her husband’s face carefully.

After making such a spectacle of herself, she could hardly keep claiming she was fine.

“Tomorrow — I’ll be better tomorrow……”

She forced the words out.

“The walk — do you think you might go with me tomorrow?”

She waited a long while, but no answer came.

Was it foolish to ask. Was I being childish over nothing.

“All right……. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Fine. The words fell from Bjorn one after another, and only then did Ivnen let go of the tension that had frozen her through.

She smiled, though it cost her.

A silence heavy as lead settled between them once more.

Ivnen was still stealing glances at Bjorn, and Bjorn was doing nothing but staring quietly at the steaming teacup.

“……The tea.”

It was only after a stretch of time had passed that Bjorn turned his head and moved his gaze to Ivnen.

“Shall we have some tea, Ivnen.”

“……”

“I went and got it myself. I wanted to share it with you.”

That he had gone out of his way to get it — to share it with her. She would have drunk stagnant water gladly if he had brought it. So Ivnen smiled through a face drained of all color and answered.

“I’d love that.”

“Good……”

With that short reply, Bjorn took the teapot in hand. A clear, deep red poured into the cup until it was full, and a familiar fragrance drifted warmly through the air.

It was the flower tea Ivnen loved.

The one she had been drinking every day, even after falling ill.

Perhaps it was the familiar scent. A small hope rose in Ivnen’s heart, curling up like smoke.

……Could it be that the Count has, in his own way, been paying a little attention to me?

Not as much as his mistress, surely — but still.

In the meantime, Bjorn set the teapot down and took her cup in hand.

But——

Something was wrong.

“……Count?”

Ivnen murmured his name with a puzzled look. Had she been seeing things. For just a moment, the hand holding the teacup seemed to tremble.

“The weather has been cold lately…… are you perhaps coming down with something——”

“It’s nothing.”

“……”

“Nothing.”

Bjorn answered in a low voice.

“Before it goes cold…… drink up. Ivnen.”

He pressed the teacup into her hands himself — Ivnen, sitting up against the headboard. It was almost beyond belief.

“It smells lovely.”

Ivnen took the cup in both hands and murmured softly, a faint smile on her lips.

“I’ve always wanted this, actually. To share tea together like this. I’m sure you had no idea, Count……”

It was because Bjorn had been so unexpectedly gentle with her today that Ivnen, without even realizing it, let slip the kind of small, sweet complaint she had never once allowed herself before.

“So I really am happy right now. You can’t imagine how good I feel.”

Bjorn said nothing.

Had she rambled on about things he never asked to hear? The realization hit her a beat too late, and Ivnen’s face flooded red — as red as the tea brimming in her cup.

She fell quiet and sipped her tea in silence. Bjorn watched her without a word.

And only after a long while did he slowly part his lips.

“You’re telling me you feel good — that you’re happy — over something as small as sharing a cup of tea?”

He asked the odd question, then continued.

“I’ve done nothing for you all this time. And you say that so easily.”

Bjorn was truly strange today. Was it guilt — a last, lingering guilt over a wife who was dying? Or was it pity?

……In truth, it didn’t matter either way. Because Ivnen loved Bjorn with her whole heart.

“I always loved hearing people call me Lady Balder.”

Ivnen said with a bitter smile.

“You took me as your wife, Count…… There was nothing I had ever dreamed of more than that.”

It might seem foolish. But she couldn’t help it.

“From the very beginning, you were all I ever had.”

Bjorn had always been everything to Ivnen.

Unlike her, to him.

“So even if I were sent back to the very start…… I would still become your wife——”

She couldn’t finish the words.

What cut sharply through the quiet of the bedroom was not Ivnen’s faint, faltering voice. It was the loud crash of the teacup slipping from her hand, clattering across the floor and shattering.

And then, strangely — all at once, she couldn’t breathe.

“……”

What is this. Why.

What is happening to me right now.

It felt as though she were submerged in water. Her heart pounded wildly, and the breaths she drew began to grow shorter and shorter.

Drowning in pain, Ivnen looked to Bjorn on instinct.

And then she understood something she had not noticed before.

Unlike her, Bjorn had not touched his tea.

Not a single sip.

“Ugh — ngh……”

Between lips parted in a groan, dark red blood poured out like water. The pain was overwhelming. Ivnen seized Bjorn’s sleeve in her fist.

And Bjorn looked down at her without a trace of panic.

No. It can’t be……

Even so, not this far……

She fought desperately to deny it — but her consciousness, slipping away by the second, and the agony tearing through her body spoke as one, telling their owner the same thing.

That it was poison.

That it was never tea, lovingly prepared.

Before long her vision began to darken, and Ivnen had no choice but to accept all of it.

“Co — Count……”

Is it because of his mistress. That he would kill me like this, when I have so little time left.

What kind of face are you making as you look at me right now.

The face of someone relieved, like a rotten tooth finally pulled? The face of someone irritated, sick of me to the very end? Or both?

But her darkening vision would not permit her to see Bjorn’s face.

Instead, Bjorn slowly bowed his head.

And whispered something in a low voice against Ivnen’s ear.

Not long after, the body that had crumpled against Bjorn’s chest went limp. She collapsed there, and did not rise again.

……Truly, Bjorn had been so gentle that day.

So gentle that Ivnen had not even thought to be suspicious.

Had she known that all of it was to kill her, she would at least not have been so grateful.

Like a beggar given alms in the street……

No — perhaps she really had been a beggar.

One who pleaded and pleaded for attention, for love.

Transparent tears traced down Ivnen’s face as it drained to white as paper.

That was her last memory.