“My lady, could you lift your arms just a little higher?”

Isabel lifted her arms and studied her reflection. No matter how much she ate — three hearty meals a day filled with rich, nourishing food — she never put on weight. In fact, she only grew thinner. Her gowns had to be pinned tightly in place to stop them slipping off her frame.

The dressmaker who had come earlier promised to deliver new garments that afternoon. Isabel found herself thinking of that promise and of the fresh fabric and careful stitching it would bring, when a sudden, sharp pain seared across her back.

A soft gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“Mm—”

“Ah! I—I’m so sorry, my lady!”

The maid who had pricked her with the dress pin looked even more horrified than Isabel. She hastily withdrew her hand and dropped to the floor in apology.

‘I’m going to die now.’

The color drained from her face as though she were facing death itself. The pin slipped from her trembling fingers.

The other maids nearby lowered their heads, holding their breath, as if they were the ones who had made the mistake.

They had expected a sharp rebuke.

Instead, the voice that fell upon the trembling maid was astonishingly calm.

“Ah… I’m fine, so d-don’t worry about it.”

The maid, who had almost pressed her forehead to the floor, suddenly raised her head, unsure whether she had heard correctly. She was not the only one. All the other maids in the room turned to Isabel, their faces etched with confusion.

Fearing that Isabel might change her mind, the maid hurried to her feet. Though bewilderment still flickered in her eyes, she quickly composed herself and resumed her task, moving carefully and precisely.

A strange, heavy silence settled over the dressing room as Isabel changed. No one dared to speak. When she finally stepped outside, the maids collectively exhaled as though they had all been holding their breath.

The maid who had made the mistake pressed a trembling hand to her chest, trying to steady her racing heart. For a moment, she had truly believed it might burst from her chest.

One of the other maids frowned slightly as she replayed the scene in her mind, unable to hide her disbelief at what had just happened.

“Did I hear that right? Did she eat something strange?”

Isabel was well known for never forgiving her servants for making mistakes.

Not long ago, when a maid accidentally spilled tea on her gown, she threw the teacup at her without hesitation. The porcelain hit the maid on the forehead, cutting her badly and leaving her needing seven stitches. The memory of this incident lingered vividly among the staff.

Even the slightest mistake could provoke Isabel’s anger. She found fault with almost everything the maids did, and her standards were notoriously exacting. Whenever she visited the grand ducal residence, the entire household braced itself for hardship.

Naturally, they had expected no different today.

Yet, to their astonishment, she had been gentle. In fact, she was so gentle that they briefly wondered if she were truly the same person. Their confusion was only natural.

One of the taller maids lightly tapped her head and let out a small, disbelieving laugh, as if to convince herself it hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.

“They say she changed after injuring her head badly. Maybe it’s true.”

Everyone had scoffed at the rumor that she had lost her memory and become meek. But perhaps it wasn’t a lie after all. Even those who had witnessed it first-hand remained unconvinced.

“Maybe. If the rumor weren’t true, she would’ve already turned this place upside down.”

Another rumor began to circulate, claiming that the Grand Duchess had been left alone on her wedding night. This was entirely false, yet such gossip spread with frightening speed. Even the youngest kitchen maid in the Grand Ducal Household had heard whispers about it behind closed doors.

Had the rumor reached Isabel’s ears as well?

And yet she remained oddly silent. She acted as though she knew nothing at all, leaving Damian to deal with the matter in her stead. This, more than anything, unsettled the servants.

A freckled maid tilted her head and spoke in a teasing tone, unable to resist fanning the embers of the scandal.

“What if she really is someone else?”

“Right? Oh! What if her soul changed during the accident?”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“Why not? There are plenty of novels like that—where someone possesses a wicked woman and turns her life around!”

The absurd suggestion made them burst into laughter. The freckled maid snorted.

“Honestly, it’d make more sense if she were a completely different person.”

Everyone laughed, and the youngest maid, who had suggested possession, pouted dramatically. Sniffing, she thought about the romance novel she had been planning to read before bed.

“Whatever. I don’t care. I just hope she stays like this forever.”

At that, the others nodded vigorously in agreement.

***

Tap. Tap.

The quiet tap of a cane striking stone echoed through the peaceful garden.

Isabel walked slowly, leaning on her cane for support. The uneven path beneath her feet felt unfamiliar, but she remembered the doctor’s advice: she must walk from time to time, even if it exhausted her.

As she moved forward, the rich fragrance of blooming flowers surrounded her like a gentle embrace. How many blossoms were opening around her, displaying their vibrant colors? She could almost picture them: roses and lilies, their petals glistening in the sunlight.

She blinked her sightless eyes.

Without thinking, her fingers rose to brush the corner of one eye.

Eyes without color. Eyes without light. Eyes that held no beauty now.

She remembered the words she had once heard.

Her mother had belonged to the Munich lineage, famed for their eyes which shimmered like precious jewels. Isabel had inherited that blood. Her own green eyes had once shone brilliantly, like emeralds catching the light. Because of her eyes, despite coming from an unremarkable family, she had received countless marriage proposals. Other young ladies had envied her.

But now, her radiant eyes — the ones that had once drawn every gaze — were gone. In their place were useless eyes that could not see at all.

And yet…

Damian still loved her.

Even though she was broken, he would continue to love her. It was not her beauty that he cherished, but her very existence.

Nevertheless, Isabel could not quiet the anxiety stirring within her. It clung to her heart like a shadow. She felt as if she alone knew how this story would end and could not rid herself of the restless unease that refused to fade.

“…Ah!”

It happened in an instant. Her foot caught on something, causing her body to lurch forwards. Lost in thought, she had failed to notice the step.

“My lady!”

The maids following behind Isabel cried out in alarm as she lost her balance. Isabel squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable pain.

But it never came.

Someone had caught her around the waist, preventing her from falling. Slowly, she opened her clenched eyes. A sweet, familiar voice brushed against her ear.

“Are you all right?”

When had he come here?

Caught off guard by Damian’s sudden arrival, Isabel froze, feeling confused. Still held in his arms, she composed herself and stood up straight.

“Ah…”

A sharp pain shot up her ankle, making her bite her lip. She must have twisted it when she stumbled. The groan that rose in her throat was stifled by her closed lips.

“Isabel?”

When she failed to answer properly, Damian called her name and scanned her swiftly with his golden eyes.

Her posture was slightly off — subtle, but not subtle enough to escape his notice. His expression hardened faintly. Without hesitation, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up.

“Forgive me.”

“Y-Your Grace!”

Before she could protest, he gently led her over to a nearby bench and helped her sit down.

Then he knelt down in front of her.

He gently lifted her right ankle into his hands. Her slender, pale skin was already reddened and swollen.

With her ankle cradled in his hands, Isabel twisted the fabric of her dress between her fingers. Each time his long fingers brushed against her ankle and slid lightly along her calf, she could feel warmth flaring beneath her skin and spreading upwards.

After closely examining the swelling, Damian lifted his gaze and turned to the head maid.

“Bring ice and bandages.”

Then he lifted Isabel into his arms once more. As it was too warm outside to treat her injury properly, he carried her back indoors.

Startled again by the sudden loss of ground beneath her feet, Isabel instinctively clung to him. In response, he drew her closer to his chest.

She parted her lips as though to protest, but no words came. Slowly, she closed her mouth again.

Damian’s embrace was firm and steady, radiating warmth. The faint, familiar scent clinging to him was more intoxicating than the fragrance of the entire garden. It surrounded her, stirring something deep within her. Overwhelmed by emotions entirely unsuited to the moment, she lowered her head, her heart fluttering in confusion.

He laid her gently on a sofa in the reception room and examined her ankle once more. In the short time that had passed, the swelling had almost doubled.

A maid rushed in with a bowl of ice. Just as she stepped forward to tend to Isabel, Damian lifted a hand and stopped her.

“I will handle it. You may go.”

At his quiet command, the maids withdrew.

“It will feel cold.”

No sooner had he spoken than she felt ice pressing against her swollen ankle. A sharp chill climbed up her calf. Once the swelling had gone down a bit, Damian skillfully wrapped the ankle in a compression bandage.

‘It’s over now,’ Isabel thought—

But then his hand moved to her calf. Warm fingers kneaded gently along the muscle.

“Your leg is cold. If we don’t warm it, it will grow numb.”

“Th-Thank you…”

The Grand Duke of the Empire knelt before Isabel, his head bowed as he carefully tended to her injured leg.

Isabel was so overwhelmed that she did not know how to respond. One unexpected moment followed another, leaving her reeling.

“Have you eaten?”

“N-No.”

“Then would you like to dine with me? If it feels burdensome, you may refuse.”

As she always did, Isabel was about to refuse. But this time, the words wouldn’t come so easily.

On reflection, she realized that she had never once shared a proper meal with Damian. Although she knew he secretly wished she would, she had always declined. Eating would mean lifting her veil, and she could not bear the thought of revealing her face to him.

Yet tonight, she hesitated.

Perhaps it was because she sensed the faintest hint of disappointment beneath his calm assurance that she was free to refuse. He had said it gently, as though it did not matter, but it did matter.

After a long moment of silence, Isabel nodded slightly. It would be uncomfortable. Still, she could manage if she wore a veil that fell only to the tip of her nose.

By the time she entered the dining room, her veil carefully adjusted, everything had been set up. With Damian’s guidance, she took her seat opposite him.

The rich aroma of the dishes filled the air and stimulated her senses, but did little to awaken her appetite. Sitting opposite him like this felt unbearably awkward.

“It is salmon steak,” the chef said.

She didn’t feel like eating, but she couldn’t just sit there in silence. Sighing, she forced herself to move, lifting her fork and putting a small amount of food in her mouth. But the moment the dish was mentioned, her hand paused in mid-air.

She felt it then — a steady gaze resting on her.

Aware of his gaze, she carefully cut the salmon into smaller pieces and brought one piece to her lips. She chewed slowly.

Then she stopped.

The sharp, fishy taste spread unpleasantly across her tongue. It lingered, heavy and overwhelming. She could not bring herself to swallow. Her eyes shifted anxiously beneath her veil. She wanted nothing more than to spit it out, but there were too many people in the room.

Caught between courtesy and discomfort, she sat frozen to the spot.

Then, something was gently brought to her lips.

“If it’s difficult to eat, you may spit it out.”

Damian held his hand out in front of her mouth.

If Isabel had fully understood that he wanted her to spit into his palm, she might have fainted on the spot. Even so, she hesitated.

“Do not worry. No one is watching.”

At his subtle glance, the dining room servants lowered their heads.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Isabel lifted her napkin, covered her mouth, and discreetly spat out her food.

Damian took the napkin from her and disposed of it himself.

“Does the food not suit your taste?”

“N-No. It’s not that…”

Her lips moved soundlessly, as if weighing her words.

“Then was there an issue with the dish?”

The chef’s shoulders visibly stiffened. Hearing the faint sharpness in Damian’s voice, Isabel hurriedly waved her hand.

“I-I just don’t like salmon very much…”

She trailed off, biting her lip in embarrassment.

“I see.”

Fortunately, Damian did not seem to read further into it. He simply instructed a servant to clear the dish away.

“My apologies. I should have paid closer attention…”

As he reached for her water glass so she could rinse her mouth, his words faltered at a sudden thought.

Had Isabel always disliked salmon?