It was the First Captain of the Imperial Knights who called out to Damian. From the look on his face, it was clear that he wanted to talk at length, so Bel quietly stepped aside to give them some privacy.

Once alone, she sat on a bench in the garden, her blind eyes blinking softly as she waited.

The conversation must have gone on for longer than expected. Even after many minutes had passed, she could still not hear the sound of Damian’s footsteps returning.

The night wind was cold.

Wherever it brushed against her skin, she shivered and her skin prickled with goosebumps.

‘I should have waited inside the carriage.’

As she rubbed her arms to warm them up, she sensed movement nearby.

Thinking it might be Damian, she lifted her head.

Voices drew closer.

“It seems the rumor is true.”

“What rumor?”

“That the Grand Duchess’s face has become grotesque. They say that’s why she was left alone on her wedding night.”

Bel’s faintly rising breath stilled.

Her pale hand tightened around the hem of her dress.

“Shh! What if someone hears you? Mind your words.”

“You should be the one to lower your voice. At this volume, even a passing rat could hear you.”

The Countess shot him a sharp look, while the Count scratched his head awkwardly. Raising her artificially arched eyebrows, the Countess continued.

“They say that even the face that was barely tolerable has now been ruined, and the Grand Duke has already lost interest.”

“It didn’t look that way inside the banquet hall…”

“There were too many eyes watching. After parading around as if they were the love story of the century, it would be embarrassing for the Grand Duke to lose interest in her less than a month after the wedding.”

With a sharp snap, the Countess struck her fan against her palm and clicked her tongue.

“They should have listened when people warned them. Honestly, this is why the young are always—”

Her chattering ceased abruptly.

Thud.

The jeweled fan slipped from her hand and fell to the ground.

Sensing something amiss, the count followed the direction of her gaze.

“G–!”

His small, button-like eyes widened in shock.

Bel’s veiled face was turned directly towards them.

Though the garden was vast, they stood in its furthest corner, where the music and footsteps from the hall could barely be heard. There were no lamps; only the faint blue glow of the moon cast a cold sheen over the scene. In the biting wind, Bel sat perfectly still.

She looked almost like a ghost.

The countess swallowed hard. In the heavy silence of the garden, even that small sound seemed unbearably loud.

Should they apologize? Or should they simply run?

They knew she could not see them. Yet an uneasy feeling crept over them, as though she could see them through the darkness and was staring straight at them.

“……”

While they hesitated, Bel slowly turned her head to the left.

Lowering his voice, the count whispered.

“D–did she not hear us?”

“Let’s just go.”

Without picking up her fallen fan, the Countess hurried away.

Their footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Only when the garden was completely silent did Bel slowly release the hem of her dress.

There was no way she could have failed to hear it.

But this was not the first time — nor even the second. Outwardly, she remained calm and unmoved.

If there was anything to fear, it was how the rumor would twist and grow more distorted this time, already spreading beyond anyone’s control like a plague.

Would it harm Damian?

Would the viscount fly into another rage?

She already knew the answers to these questions.

People were already whispering that Damian was a fool blinded by love, and the viscount would undoubtedly erupt in fury.

In truth, she did not care what the Viscount heard. No matter how furious he became, she would face the consequences alone.

But Damian was different.

Even now, Bel carried the guilt of deceiving him by pretending to be Isabel. The thought of him being dragged through cruel gossip because of her weighed heavily on her heart.

It had been the same when they had stood before the empress.

Because of her failings, Damian had been forced to endure humiliation.

‘Because of me…’

Deceiving him by acting as the false Isabel was sin enough. She didn’t want to cause him any more harm.

If only he would tire of her!

Bel pressed her lips together tightly.

Lost in thought, she failed to notice someone approaching.

“I was wondering where you had gone.”

The unfamiliar voice belonged to a man—but it was not Damian.

Startled by the sudden presence at her side, Bel flinched.

“Wh–who are you?”

Her voice rang out, thick with caution.

Where was Damian?

Instinctively, Bel searched for him. Ironically, he was the person she should be guarding against the most, yet he was also the only person she could rely on at that moment.

Seeing her shoulders tremble, the man let out a soft laugh.

What was so amusing?

At that light sound, Bel’s wariness deepened.

“It’s me.”

He offered no introduction, no family name or house; just those two words.

Was he someone Isabel knew?

As she listened closely to his voice, she thought she might have heard it before. Yet she could not place it at all.

“Oh dear. You truly don’t remember me.”

He sounded genuinely disappointed.

Bel was about to apologize out of habit, but his next words startled her into stammering silence.

“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Fabian Bohenvant.”

Fabian Bohlenvant: The Crown Prince.

What was one supposed to do when meeting royalty?

Cold sweat trickled down her back. She desperately tried to recall imperial court etiquette, but her mind had gone blank.

She would rather face a roomful of gossiping nobles than the crown prince.

“I… I greet the second sun of the Barfit Empire. Y–Your Highness…”

“Between us, what need is there for such formality? There is no one watching. Please, rise.”

As Bel fumbled through an overly elaborate bow, Fabian gently stopped her.

Uncertain whether this was truly permissible, she hesitated. Fabian clicked his tongue softly and reached out to grasp her arm. Bel flinched violently at his touch, as though she had been burned. He released her at once.

“Are you planning to keep the veil on?”

“Yes…”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable? It’s only me here. Why not remove it for a moment?”

“Y–yes.”

Bel repeated the same answer, not knowing what she was saying.

Her thoughts were in disarray.

Did Isabel know Fabian personally? And how could the daughter of a mere Baron be acquainted with the Crown Prince?

“Are you not going to remove it?”

“…Pardon?”

“If you cannot manage it alone, I will help you.”

What did he mean? Remove what?

Struggling to follow the conversation, Bel could not even determine the subject. As she tried to retrace her steps, she felt fingertips brush against her veil.

Her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up.

Smack!

The sharp sound of contact echoed briefly through the quiet garden.

“Ah…”

A gasp slipped from Bel’s lips.

She did not need to see to know she had struck a royal hand. The sound alone told her enough.

“I–I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to…”

“It is quite all right. I was the one who acted without proper permission. The fault is mine. Though it seems your hand is as sharp as ever.”

As soon as he said ‘as ever’, Bel sensed that something was wrong.

It implied that she had hit him before.

Did that mean she had laid hands on royalty twice?

Bel’s spine stiffened with tension.

“I–I’m sorry. Truly.”

“That is quite enough apology.”

“But…”

Even at Fabian’s reassurance, Bel could not bring herself to believe him.

It had been only once, but she too had once learned noble etiquette in preparation for attending a ball.

“One must never lay a hand upon a member of the imperial family. Should one dare to touch them without permission, the punishment is severe.”

Even now that she had lost her sight, the memory of the maid who had taught her those rules remained vivid. To emphasize the importance of the rules, the maid had recounted real cases of people having their hands severed.

“Th–then… you won’t cut off my hand?”

Her voice, trembling with fear, was barely audible.

Leaning in to hear her properly, Fabian blinked in disbelief.

“Cut off your hand? Who told you such a thing?”

His right brow furrowed as though he had heard something utterly absurd. A faint, incredulous laugh followed.

“That will not happen, so set your mind at ease. Do you truly think I would do such a thing to you—between us?”

‘Between us.’

This was the second time he had repeated the same phrase, whether he had spoken it consciously or not.

Bel’s confusion deepened further.

What sort of relationship had there been between Fabian and Isabel for the Crown Prince to be so lenient?

Or was it simply because of who he was?

Under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t have cared. And yet, curiosity gnawed at her.

Before she could stop herself, the question slipped out.

“W–were… were we on good terms, Your Highness?”

She realized her mistake the moment she had finished speaking.

If she were truly Isabel, that would be one thing. But, as she was now, it was no different from prying into someone else’s private affairs.

She should ask him to forget what she had just said.

But—

“Us?”

“……”

“We were very… close.”

When he answered, Bel was left speechless.

There was something strangely familiar about the Crown Prince’s tone of voice and behavior. She could not quite put her finger on it, but ever since he had approached her, she had had an unsettling feeling.

Before she could gather her thoughts, she caught a whiff of a scent: heavy, warm and woody. It was neither floral nor fruity, yet it had a strangely seductive undertone.

“Are you more curious?”

His voice drew nearer.

Before she could take a step back, an arm wrapped around her waist.

Through the thin layers of fabric, she could feel his breath.