“Ahan.”

They were about ten minutes from their destination when Lisha finally called to him.

“Speak, my lady.”

Unlike the others, both Kan and Ahan always addressed her with formal respect. That courtesy still felt awkward to her, and after a slight pause, she opened her mouth again.

“Why does Lord Hatan do this much for me?”

The question came without preface, and Ahan slowed his steps. What exactly did she mean by this much? As he pondered, she added,

“The maids say it’s only charity—that he’s doing this for me out of pity, or goodwill…”

Understanding dawned, and Ahan resumed his stride. That at least was a question with a simple answer.

“Because you are useful.”

At that, Lisha tilted her head slightly, her expression clouded with confusion.

“What use could I possibly be?”

There were plenty who could soothe Hatan at night in her place. And as for her role as a spy, she had already failed her mission. Yet she was being called useful?

Ahan chose not to untangle her doubts, but rather to guide her toward acceptance.

“That is for Lord Hatan alone to judge.”

“…Ah.”

He was right. Even as one of Hatan’s closest men, it was not his place to say more. So instead, she voiced another thought that had been weighing on her.

“If I am useful… then does that mean I can stay by Lord Hatan’s side?”

This time, he stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face her.

Before him stood a figure that was once himself: someone who had not realized just how suffocating despair was, precisely because it was all they had ever known.

She must be just as desperate, even if she did not yet realize it. Instinct alone would make her cling to this lifeline, just as he once had. And just as it had been his salvation, so it would be hers.

With quiet certainty, Ahan answered.

“Yes.”

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

A person’s innate nature never changes.

However, Rachel would often alter this saying slightly when she spoke of it, saying that a person’s true nature doesn’t change, but it can be hidden. Just as she herself was doing now.

She was not the warmest of souls, but once she gave her heart to someone, her devotion bordered on loyalty. Although she was not outwardly affectionate, once someone entered her circle, she showed enough care to render her supposed coldness meaningless. She rarely opened her heart, but when she did, she became so deeply invested that she could barely endure the weight of her own feelings.

That was Rachel.

But life had forced her to bury that nature. Sold by her parents to a continent where the color of her eyes and hair marked her as different; finding someone she could finally trust, only to lose him to war; and ultimately being cast onto the streets because of it — all of this taught her to protect her heart and survive through sheer grit.

So, Rachel smothered her true self and clawed her way to survival. Over time, she achieved what was said to be harder than passing through the eye of a needle: rising to the status of a commoner and establishing her own apothecary.

Yet, despite all that, there were still people who, now and then, managed to pierce her frozen heart.

“Good day.”

Like the black-haired woman standing before her now.

Along with the scent of camellias — a fragrance that could never have come from the Kasaan Empire — Rachel saw the familiar cascade of black hair.

‘She’s cut it.’

The woman’s once long ebony hair was now cropped short, giving her a very different appearance to that displayed at the Plum Blossom Garden. Not only that, but her fine, form-fitting clothing also revealed graceful lines that bespoke wealth and refinement.

‘So she’s been sold to someone rich, then.’

The black-haired woman greeted her as if seeing her for the first time.

‘…She doesn’t remember me.’

Perhaps it was only natural. Back at the Plum Blossom Garden, that girl had lived like someone merely enduring breath to breath, scarcely aware of others, barely able to care for herself. How could she have remembered Rachel, someone she had brushed past only a handful of times?

“……”

Nevertheless, Rachel couldn’t help but feel disappointed. However, she didn’t have the chance to untangle the source of that feeling before a low, heavy voice interrupted her thoughts.

“The medicinal herbs I requested a few days ago—are they ready?”

“Just a moment.”

Rachel turned and took out the prepared herbs. But a sudden unease rose in her chest.

‘Surely… this Dreamflower is not meant for her?’

The snow-white Karashuran blossom may have looked demure, but it had surprising properties: when ingested by a woman, it temporarily increased a man’s s*xual interest in her.

It was said to grant a woman who consumed it a midsummer night’s dream with the man she longed for. For this reason, it became known as the Dreamflower.

The Dreamflower took the Kasaan Empire by storm, spreading like wildfire. However, within two years, its popularity had waned. The reason was simple: its side effects had begun to emerge. Women who took it began to complain of unexplained headaches and a variety of other ailments, with some experiencing symptoms after two years and others after four. In the most severe cases, they either died or were left in such a wretched state that it was worse than death itself.

“As you may know, the Dreamflower… can have side effects.”

Rachel tossed the words over her shoulder to those behind her, but there was no reply. At last, she turned to face the woman.

The black-haired woman with red lips like camellias merely blinked with bright eyes, as if she had not truly grasped the meaning of Rachel’s warning. Suppressing a sigh, Rachel shifted her gaze to the warrior standing behind her.

“Is this lady the one who will be taking it?”

At that, the black-haired woman broke into their exchange.

“Lisha.”

“…?”

“My name is Lisha.”

She spoke her name again and again, a faint smile curving her lips as though she wanted it firmly remembered.

“…Then, will you be the one to take this medicine, Lady Lisha?”

For the briefest moment, Lisha’s expression brightened with something like expectation as she nodded. Rachel forced down the sigh rising to her lips and instead gave a bitter smile.

‘It’s understandable she’d be glad, no longer living off scraps between beatings… but this?’

To think she was pleased over something like this. Dreamflower was so rare now even the courtesans had given up seeking it. That this woman could be happy to consume a poison of all things—it was beyond Rachel’s comprehension, and she had no desire to understand.

“Is something wrong?”

When Rachel failed to respond for some time, lost in thought, the warrior spoke up.

“No,” she said. But as she reached out to hand over the medicine, her hand halted, then withdrew.

“…One moment. I left out an herb.”

She turned quickly, striding toward the cabinet of medicines. If the prescription could not be undone, then it could at least be altered.

“When Dreamflower is taken, it can sometimes cause violent nausea. I need to add something to soothe the stomach. It’s simply been so long since I last prescribed it that I forgot.”

“Understood.”

Rachel swiftly drew out a few herbs, but hesitated, frowning in thought.

‘…If I remove the Dreamflower entirely, they’ll notice.’

Its effect was so potent that even a boy of ten could sense it. Leave it out altogether, and the absence would be obvious at once.

Rachel, having made up her mind, reduced the portion of Dreamflower and replaced it with several premium herbs that would help restore strength to the body.

‘Money doesn’t seem to be a concern.’

She had no way of knowing exactly which house they belonged to, but one needed only to look at the sword hanging from the warrior’s side to understand.

Of course, this change would not erase the Dreamflower’s side effects—but at the very least, it would replenish what damage it might cause.

“All done. The cost will be—”

Rachel, who had swiftly bundled the medicine, handed it over, only for the warrior to press a pouch of gold coins into her hand. Somewhat taken aback that he had paid without even asking the price, she opened the pouch and checked its contents with a faintly awkward look.

Inside was enough to more than cover even the rarest herbs she had just added.

Caught in the sunlight, the gold glinted brightly, and Rachel’s lips parted slightly in surprise.

“The lady once suffered from a chronic illness of the lungs. Thanks to this, she was cured.”

The answer, though unasked for, came readily. Rachel closed the pouch.

‘That’s his way of telling me to keep my mouth shut.’

She had no intention of telling anyone about it. In fact, it was just as well. The next time she saw Lisha, she would examine her properly and prescribe the finest herbs suited to her body.

Unbeknownst to Rachel, her thoughts had already turned to Lisha’s well-being. She smiled faintly as she replied.

“I’m glad it was of help.”

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

“Lower.”

Hatan’s heated breath escaped as he gave the command.

Lisha understood immediately, lowering her head further and moving as he directed. A low groan escaped his lips. Catching the signal in his expression, she hastened her pace.

Before long, Hatan released the pent-up desire that had been buried deep within him and his restlessness finally subsided. However, he did not signal to stop.

Instead, Lisha quickly climbed astride his solid thighs.

For a long while, the chamber echoed only to the heavy, satiated breaths of the predator and the woman’s plaintive, trembling cries in his arms.

“What did you have for your meal?”

“I’ve already eaten.”

“When?”

Ever since Lisha had taken the Dreamflower, everything had unfolded exactly as Hatan had foreseen.

Unlike before, she now excelled at luring in her targets. She drew them in with natural ease, gathering piece after piece of information that bound their hearts tighter than chains. Occasionally, men with wandering hands would handle her roughly, but such men would either vanish without a trace or be crippled by Hatan.

Thus, with each passing day, the physical toll of her missions seemed to lessen. Yet, strangely, her body continued to wither away.

“I asked when.”

“…Earlier. At supper.”

Rising from the bed after savoring his release, Hatan fixed his gaze on her.

“Are you not sleeping?”

“…What?”

“Lately. Have you been unable to sleep?”

“No.”

Since she first entered the Mutran estate, she had grown brighter, occasionally managing a faint smile. Yet, as the days passed, she became increasingly pitiful to look at. It wasn’t obvious to others, but Hatan could see it clearly.

“Then why do you look like that?”

Lisha’s brow creased faintly, then smoothed. She felt only a little tired, nothing more. But to say I look like this… She shook her head, glancing up at him warily.

“Are you sick?”

From her own perspective, her life now was incomparably better than it had ever been. Yet his words made her shoulders shrink as though guilty of something unseen.

“…Should I wash again?”

Her tone carried a trace of hesitation. Hatan gestured for her to come closer.

“Enough.”

He had not meant she was unclean. Once more she had misunderstood. His hand brushed through her silk-like hair, then down to the thinness beneath, and his tongue clicked in quiet displeasure.

“From now on, eat more.”

“Yes.”

She was already eating well—how much more could she possibly manage? But Lisha only nodded.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

Hatan stood watching the door through which she had left for a long time before finally forcing himself to look back at the papers on his desk. He had summoned her on a whim, but he was actually far too busy to spare a moment’s rest.

They had once turned their backs on the family, ignoring it as though it meant nothing. Yet now, thanks to Hatan and Has, the House of Mutran was rising swiftly to prominence, and the collateral branches had begun to covet more than was ever theirs to claim.

“Parasites.”

There was no wit, skill or wealth. That was all the collateral lines of Mutran amounted to. Yet their greed knew no bounds as they stuck their noses where they didn’t belong.

It was no wonder that trouble had arisen. Ever since Lisha started working in earnest, there had been less time to clean up the family’s act.

“Perhaps it’s time to move.”

Hatan skimmed through the report that Caro had brought him. For those powerless fools to act so brazenly, there must be someone pulling their strings. A short sigh escaped his lips.

The enemies of the House of Mutran were countless, and there were more than enough places demanding his attention tonight.

Hatan’s gaze shifted once more to the door Lisha had left through, his brows knitting together. For some reason, the thought of working soured his mood. But if not him, who else would do it?

Showing his irritation, he resigned himself to the task and began reading the report in earnest. That night, Hatan had no choice but to spend hours investigating Mutran’s collateral lines.