Bel wasn’t the only one left dazed by the sudden change in Damian’s attitude.

Sarah approached her later and offered quiet comfort.

“It must be because he’s busy.”

As Sarah said, Damian was indeed burdened with an overwhelming schedule. Although she had not seen it for herself, Bel trusted the butler’s word that this was the case.

And yet, the unease that had taken root in her heart refused to fade.

What was it? What had changed him so suddenly?

Had his affection cooled? Had he become disillusioned by the difference between her and the real Isabel? Had she, oblivious to everything, finally pushed him to the limit?

Or…

Bel released a shallow breath and tried to stop her mind from racing.

Whether his feelings had diminished or he was simply consumed by work, none of it mattered anymore.

She had already resolved to tell him the truth: that she was not the real Isabel.

As soon as he had the time, she would tell him everything.

If their fragile bond was destined to crumble once the truth was revealed, what purpose would be served by agonizing over the reason for his sudden distance?

Bel only wanted it to end.

When this life built upon deception finally collapsed, she would lose the most. But she was responsible for the path she had chosen, and she would accept the consequences.

The day after she had hardened her resolve, it happened.

At last, the butler brought the news she had been waiting for.

“Madam, His Highness will be returning early today. He should arrive soon. Would you like to wait in the study?”

“N-no. I’ll wait outside.”

“You will grow tired standing. Please wait inside. I will bring you some tea.”

She felt uneasy about entering a room when its owner was not present. Yet the butler insisted, so she eventually stepped inside.

Bel sat rigidly in her seat.

This was her first time setting foot in his study.

Tension pooled in her abdomen, leaving her feeling cold. The room was so silent that the only sound was the steady ticking of the clock’s second hand, and each beat struck her nerves.

Although the room itself was warm, a thin layer of cold sweat had already gathered beneath the veil resting on her forehead.

After a long moment of hesitation, Bel slowly rose to her feet.

Would it be all right to open a window?

Bearing this in mind, she began to move slowly, tapping the floor ahead of her with her cane to check for obstacles. Not knowing the layout of the room, it took her longer than expected to find her way around.

Her free hand cautiously traced the surfaces around her. Then her fingers brushed against something long and slender.

The tip was pointed, but not as sharp as a needle. Judging by its size and smooth texture, she thought it must be a fountain pen.

‘So this must be the desk he uses for work.’

Bel tried to piece together the room’s layout in her mind. In the Braille books she had read, the windows in studies were often positioned behind the desk. If that was the case, the window should be directly behind her now.

And then it happened.

As she turned and steadied herself against the desk, she felt something catch her hand.

Clatter—

An object tumbled to the floor with a sharp, cascading crash, the sound echoing loudly through the silent room.

“Ah.”

From the way it brushed against her fingers, she thought it might be paper.

Documents perhaps? What if they were important?

Bel dropped to her knees in alarm and began searching frantically for the scattered sheets. In her panic, she had even cast aside her walking stick.

She should have stayed where she was.

Regret surged through her as she reached out blindly across the floor.

And then the door opened.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice cut through the air like frost.

Bel froze in her tracks as if she had been struck by a spell.

She heard his heavy footsteps approaching. An unmistakable air of anger emanated from him, causing her entire body to stiffen.

A rough grip seized her arm.

She was pulled upwards with sudden force, crying out in pain.

“Ugh.”

The pain flared up again. Her wrist hurt. Her injured shoulder throbbed.

Despite her groan of pain, the hand gripping her arm did not loosen its hold. In fact, it tightened. Bel’s slender hand began to tremble. She did not know whether this was due to the pain or the fury emanating from him.

“I asked what you were doing here, like a rat.”

A rat.

It wasn’t just his rigid tone, it was the word itself that scraped across her heart.

It felt as though all the blood had drained from her body. The man standing before her was no longer the man she had known.

Bel forced out her words with a stiff tongue.

“I—I was trying to open the w-window, and I a-accidentally bumped into something… I’m sorry…”

Her final words were barely louder than a whisper.

Was he angry because she had come in without permission? Or was it because she had disturbed his important documents?

Everything felt like it was her fault. She tried not to cry, but the pain in her arm and his cold, mechanical grip crushed her spirit.

“Did you read the documents?”

“Pardon? N-no. I didn’t—I couldn’t read them. I’m blind, you know.”

Bel shook her head desperately, insisting that she had done nothing wrong. She could not see what was in front of her — the very reason the documents had been scattered in the first place.

As though he had only just remembered, Damian’s gaze settled upon the veil covering her eyes in silence. After a moment, he released her arm, which trembled as it fell limply to her side.

It throbbed with pain as it fell. Clutching her aching shoulder, Bel bit down on her lip. She felt as though she had committed an unforgivable offence and did not dare to lift her head.

She stood hunched like a criminal awaiting judgement, acutely aware of the sharp stare boring into her back. Damian glanced at one of the fallen papers — a document marked ‘Search Report’ — and his brows drew together before he returned his gaze to her.

In Bel’s hands, reports on the newly discovered mine’s mineral reserves were tangled together with documents detailing military equipment, all scattered in complete disorder.

His golden eyes fixed once more on her veil, scrutinizing it with quiet suspicion, before he abruptly snatched the papers from her grasp. Even when her shoulders flinched at the sudden movement, his expression remained cold and unyielding.

“Leave.”

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I will not repeat myself. Leave.”

The words trembling on her lips died unspoken. She pressed her mouth tightly shut, biting down so hard that she could taste blood.

Bel shifted uncertainly. Something struck her foot lightly — her cane. Only then did she realize that she had dropped it. She quickly knelt down to pick it up, her fingers closing around the familiar handle.

As she rose, clutching the cane, her wrist was suddenly seized.

Perhaps impatient with her hesitation, Damian tightened his grip and pulled her forward without warning.

She stumbled after him, struggling to keep pace with his long strides. She nearly lost her footing more than once, but he did not slow down. Without saying a word, he dragged her to the door, pushed it open, and shoved her outside.

“Never enter my space without permission again.”

Bang.

The door slammed shut with the finality of his cold words.

***

After days of unrelenting rain, the downpour finally stopped. Sunlight, which had been absent for so long, streamed into Bel’s bedroom, bright and unfiltered.

With her back to the sudden brightness, Bel pulled her knees up to her chest and curled up into a ball.

She had been searching for Damian for days. Just as when she first arrived at the grand ducal estate, she now shut herself away in her room, refusing to show her face. Even when Sarah gently urged her to step outside for a walk, she remained tucked away in a quiet corner. Her meals were brought to her.

Had his affection truly faded?

Bel was convinced that it was not work that kept him distant, but indifference. That he simply no longer wanted to see her? So she made herself scarce, avoiding even the slightest chance of crossing paths with him.

After witnessing the coldness in his eyes, the courage she had gathered to confess the truth slowly withered.

She could not bring herself to tell the Damian she saw now that she was a fraud.

‘Perhaps this is for the best.’

There had been times when she had wished for him to tire of her. It would be better if he discarded her of his own accord than if she were cast out for deception after revealing the truth.

‘But…’

When it seemed to be happening, her chest tightened painfully. Being abandoned by him hurt far more than she had imagined.

Bel blinked her useless eyes. She no longer wore a veil. If she was going to be cast aside anyway, what was the point in hiding her face?

After lying there blankly for a moment, she suddenly sat up.

‘It would be better to prepare in advance.’

She couldn’t just wait for him to reject her.

Should she start packing her things? Should she draw up the divorce papers herself?

Baron Logan would undoubtedly be furious, but she didn’t have the energy to worry about his anger. Whether she was neglected again or sold off, she would let fate take its course. Ever since she lost her sight, her life had never truly belonged to her.

Just then, the door swung open without warning.

Startled, Bel instinctively raised a hand to shield her face, but relaxed when she recognized the familiar voice.

However, the words that followed made her freeze.

“His Highness…?”

“Yes. He is waiting for you in the garden.”

Why was he looking for her?

She should have been afraid, yet her heart still leapt for a moment. Bel let out a quiet, self-mocking breath at her own foolishness.

If he had come to demand a divorce, she would accept it calmly. If not, then she would speak first. Steeling herself, she felt as though this might be her final chance.

A cool breeze drifted through the garden, which she had not visited in some time. The wind carried the faint fragrance of flowers, and the sunlight filtering through the leaves was warm yet gentle. Gradually, the anxiety that had made her so nervous began to subside.

Because of that—

—she did not immediately notice what was wrong.

The subtle, unsettling change in him.

“Bel Ester.”

His voice.

“Did you kill Isabel?”