She had a dream.

In it, she met a boy wearing a golden mask. She could not remember what they had done together, only that they had stood side by side. Even after she woke up, the sensation lingered with unsettling clarity, clinging to her so stubbornly that for a long time she could not tell whether it had been real or just a product of her imagination.

Still lost in that strange afterglow, she realized — far too late — that she had overslept.

Was oversleeping an omen that misfortune would follow her for the rest of the day?

Everything seemed to go wrong. She stumbled along a path she had long since memorized. Dishes slipped from her hands and shattered without warning. If Damian had not been there to steady her each time she faltered, she would surely have been injured by now.

“Ah…”

Of all things, she even spilled her tea.

As she felt the warmth soaking into the hem of her dress, spreading slowly through the fabric, she pressed her lips together in silence.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

At least the hot tea hadn’t touched her skin—that much was a relief.

Just then, from somewhere in the distance, a voice filled with shock rang out.

“Your Highness, your hand—!”
“Bring ice. Now!”

The room erupted into chaos.

Bel, who had been sitting there blankly and unable to comprehend the situation, slowly parted her lips at the sound of the servants’ frantic cries.

“Y-Your Highness.”

“What is it? Are you hurt anywhere?”

In response to her startled cry, he immediately took her hands and began examining them hastily. He was so worried that Bel was left speechless for a moment.

But it was not her who had been hurt.

It was Damian.

The back of the hand that was still holding hers was flushed an angry red, as though it had been scorched by a flame. When the scalding tea spilled onto her dress, he stepped in without hesitation to shield her with his hand.

Bel hadn’t seen exactly what had happened, but the commotion around her made the truth painfully clear. He had taken the burn in her place — and it was far from minor.

“I—I’m fine. Your Highness, your hand…”

Her voice trembled without direction.

“Compared to being stabbed by a sword, this is nothing.”

Was that supposed to be funny? Bel didn’t even feel the slightest urge to smile.

The emergency treatment was completed quickly. Only after the doctor had assured her that there would be no scarring did the tightness in her chest finally begin to ease.

Just then, Eric came looking for Damian. After casting a brief glance at Bel, he leaned close to Damian and whispered something in his ear. Damian’s expression hardened with subtle tension. He soon asked for her understanding, explaining that he would need to leave before her.

Bel told him she was fine, watched him go, then quietly returned to her room. If she stayed outside any longer, she feared she might cause more trouble. Besides, it was almost time for Bartgen to arrive.

After changing into a fresh dress, she sat and waited.

Yet long after the appointed hour had passed, there was still no sign of him.

“Could something… have happened?”

“I’m not sure. If that were the case, he would have sent word. There hasn’t been any message from him.”

“……”

“What if… he ran away?”

Sarah lowered her voice so that no one else could hear and spoke in a hushed tone.

“No matter how much he likes money, is it worth his life? He must have been afraid of the consequences if he were exposed, which is why he fled. Otherwise, there’d be no reason why he wouldn’t have come straight away.”

There was some logic in Sarah’s words. Bel herself had often wanted to run away out of fear. Why would he be any different?

‘No… perhaps something truly unavoidable happened.’

It was still too soon to conclude that Bartgen had fled.

“Just in case… could you send word to Father?”

“I will. But what will you tell His Highness the Grand Duke? He will surely ask if something happened.”

Bel fell silent, her thoughts spiraling once more.

Bartgen’s failure to appear today would certainly have been reported to Damian by the butler by now. As Sarah had warned, he would certainly ask about it. If Bel pretended not to know anything, he might calmly declare that he would investigate the matter himself.

That would be dangerous.

If he searched for Bartgen and discovered that he was a fraud, it would only be a matter of time before he realized that Bel had deceived him.

Should she say that Bartgen had been detained by an urgent matter and could not come? The excuse crossed her mind, but she dismissed it almost at once. It would not hold up.

When it came to her — or rather, Isabel — Damian reacted with unsettling sensitivity, even over the smallest details. He might demand to know what kind of emergency could justify postponing her important treatment. Even worse, he might replace the doctor with one of his trusted associates there and then.

It seemed that deception simply did not suit her. No matter how long she thought about it, Bel could not find a convincing solution.

She spent the entire night searching for an excuse, exhausting herself in the process. But time moved forward regardless of her struggle. Before she knew it, it was time for dinner.

For a moment, she resented her past self for not avoiding shared meals with Damian while she still had the chance.

She briefly considered pretending to be ill to avoid dinner altogether. However, she knew that she could not evade it forever, so she dismissed the idea.

Standing before the dining room doors, she forced herself to steady her breathing. Her stomach churned as though she were a ship tossed upon violent waves. Clinging to the faint hope that Damian might let the matter pass without question, she stepped inside.

Of course, her wish was not granted.

“I heard the physician did not come. Did something happen?”

The small jaw, which had been mechanically chewing food without tasting it, froze in mid-motion.

It had finally arrived.

Her mouth went dry. She stopped herself from biting her parched lips. If she appeared nervous, it would only arouse suspicion.

“The—the appointment time changed, but I—I forgot…”

The lie she forced out sounded inadequate and painful. Buried under the weight of her anxiety, she stammered far more than usual. Every nerve in her body was on edge, bracing itself for the moment when Damian might realize that something was wrong.

Her stutter itself was nothing new. But this was different.

There were many reasons behind Bel’s speech impediment. The deepest lay in her fragile mental state, shaped by years of relentless *buse. Simply escaping the Baron’s estate — a place steeped in fear and trauma — had allowed her to regain some stability. The terror that had once dominated her was gradually being replaced by guilt for deceiving others. Under Damian’s quiet, unwavering care, the stutter born of that *buse had slowly begun to ease.

Having shown such visible improvement, would it not seem suspicious if she suddenly started stumbling over her words again?

The thought that her fragile lie might unravel at any moment made her heart pound in her chest.

“I see.”

Yet Damian’s response was so dry that her earlier panic seemed foolish in retrospect. In fact, it was almost cold.

He had always been unnervingly perceptive when it came to anything involving Bel. But now, there was a faint distance to his demeanor, as though something had shifted overnight.

She felt a quiet sense of unease at the change, but it did not linger. She was too overwhelmed with relief that the matter had passed without incident to dwell on it.

Meanwhile, Bartgen remained completely silent, as though he had truly fled. Even the Baron, who had predicted a response within three days at the earliest and a week at the latest, had not replied. Her anxiety spread through her like wildfire, growing with every passing hour.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, a letter arrived from the Baron.

Upon receiving Bel’s message, he had immediately sent someone to Bartgen’s residence. But Bartgen had already vanished. It seemed he had fled in haste, leaving the house in disarray. They began searching for him at once, but so far their efforts had yielded nothing.

“And lastly, he wrote, “I will secure a new physician as soon as possible. Until then, be careful not to arouse the Grand Duke’s suspicion.”

Upon hearing those final words, Bel could not even muster a hollow laugh.

Had he not learnt his lesson from being deceived before? Rather than worrying about Baron Logan, she was uneasy at the thought of the new lie she would inevitably have to tell Damian.

Even if no new doctor could be found, there would come a day when she would have to lie to him again.

Lies only gave birth to more lies.

As long as her existence remained hidden, the deception would never truly end.

A deep weariness washed over her. What meaning was there in living a life stitched together entirely from falsehoods? How much longer would she have to tremble at the slightest mistake, watching her every word and action so carefully?

The moment she had decided to tell him the truth, her foolish heart — reckless and ignorant of its place — had chosen to pine for him, if only a little. And now she was acting as though she were the one being wronged. The irony was almost laughable.

Of course, she had never intended to deceive Damian forever. She did not possess such audacity.

Sooner or later, the truth would come out. She had planned to confess before his sense of betrayal could deepen any further. She had only meant to allow herself to desire him for a short while — just a little — before letting him go.

But was that not deception as well?

This realization hit her like a blow.

What right did her feelings have to matter in the first place?

Although she was preoccupied with her own fragile heart, it was still deceitful to comfort herself with the thought that it would be acceptable to tell him later.

If she truly cared for him…

Bel pressed her lips together and reached for her wedding ring. She turned it slowly around her finger, standing still for a long time, lost in silent contemplation.

***

Before going to the dining room, Bel adjusted her outfit. Whenever she dined with him, she would usually wear a short veil. Today, however, she had opted for a long veil that fell to her collarbone.

Sarah thought this was strange, but Bel dismissed it and headed towards where he would be.

Damian would already be in the dining room when she entered, greeting her and escorting her to her seat.

But today, it was a different voice that welcomed her.

“My apologies, Madam. The Master has encountered a matter of schedule and asked me to inform you that he will be unable to dine with you.”

“Ah… I see.”

The tension that had made her shoulders stiff all day suddenly disappeared. She felt like a condemned prisoner whose execution had been postponed by a day. The sentence had not been lifted, but her life had been spared for the time being.

“Wh-when will His Highness return?”

“At the latest, perhaps tomorrow. I will inform you when he arrives.”

“…Thank you.”

Contrary to the butler’s assurances, several days passed without Bel seeing Damian. Whether he was truly overwhelmed with work or avoiding her on purpose, he either didn’t return to the estate at all or left at dawn and returned long after nightfall.

Bel lay awake at night, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain beating against the windows.

She had been told he would return near dawn, so she waited for him. But after days of frayed nerves and restless thoughts, she no longer had the strength to wait until morning.

She would drift into a shallow sleep, only to awaken at the faintest sound of movement, her heart leaping in hope. Yet each time, the room remained empty. Only the faintest trace of his scent lingered in the air.

When she discovered that he had come to her room and left while she was asleep, she forced herself to stay awake for the following nights, determined not to miss him again. She endured until dawn on more than one occasion. But after that, he did not appear at all.

It was then that a quiet dread began to settle over her.

He had never behaved like this before. No matter how busy he was, he had always made time for her, intent on winning her heart.

Recently, however, Damian had been avoiding her in an unmistakably deliberate way. Something had changed. Something had happened.

The problem was that Bel had no idea what it could be.

Suppressing her rising anxiety, she sought out the butler each day to ask when Damian would be back.

The butler answered politely, but he could not fully conceal the troubled look in his eyes.

“My apologies, Madam. His Highness has been quite occupied lately…”

“What are you doing here?”

At that moment, the voice she had been waiting for cut through the butler’s words.

“You have returned, Your Highness. It seems Madam had something she wished to say to you.”

With that, the butler withdrew.

Bel parted her lips, about to begin—

“Let us speak another time.”

He spoke in a polite yet unmistakably cold tone. His voice sounded slightly hoarse, as though he was tired. Bel faltered in the unfamiliar atmosphere.

“Ah… You must be tired, having just returned. I didn’t th-think that far. Please, go and rest…”

“Yes.”

Damian passed her by.

A chill seemed to follow him.

For the first time, she felt intimidated by him. She stood there for a long time, unable to move.