From the stone she threw, ripples began to spread in concentric circles, whether they were ripples or cracks, or perhaps a combination of both.

Either way, it unsettled him. The shadow that had remained at his feet, hidden within him, began to be pushed away by the moonlight.

The huge moon, rising alone in the dark, ink-black night, casting its eerie white light, drew more attention than usual – a sight that could disturb the soul.

“Wow!” 

“Wow, it’s spectacular every time.” 

“My goodness! It seems like the moon is even bigger this year.” 

As exclamations echoed around them, Curtis’ eyes remained fixed on Dalia. The moon, rising at the same time every year, no longer stirred any emotions in him.

He couldn’t understand those who continued to marvel at the same sight, at the same time, in the same place.

Curtis didn’t even glance at the moon’s rays as they fell. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on Dalia, drinking in the soft glow of her blonde hair, her pale cheeks that seemed dusted with pearl powder, and the green eyes beneath her long, slowly fluttering lashes.

Like the others, Dalia stared at the huge moon as if she could reach out and touch it. Her eyes, clear and empty, seemed to pierce through everything, reflecting no light at all.

The intense gaze that had once followed him without hesitation gradually faded, leaving no trace.

Neither of them noticed that their gazes had completely shifted, now facing in opposite directions.

And in an instant, as if sensing his gaze, Dalia slowly turned her head toward Curtis.

After a brief moment, too fleeting to even blink, she smiled brightly, her eyes curving like flowers blooming in the moonlight. But Curtis’ cheek remained stiff, motionless.

Her green eyes, seemingly indifferent even as she looked at him, were clearly visible under her gaze. Without realizing it, Curtis absentmindedly touched his chest where his heart was racing.

Uncomfortable. Restless. Yet he couldn’t understand how to alleviate this discomfort.

What was it that he couldn’t accept?

In a corner of his mind, Curtis felt an uncomfortable sensation, like something was gnawing at him, but he couldn’t reach it.

Again and again he tried to grasp the wrong answer, even though he knew it wasn’t right.

Dalia’s heart belonged to her and it was clear that it wasn’t his place to interfere, question or complain about his feelings.

So why did it feel like something inside him was being turned upside down?

It was like a wound, unseen and unnoticed, that had begun to irritate his nerves. Emotions like joy or sadness that others felt easily never resonated with Curtis, making this emotional turmoil all the more disturbing.

It had started as a small question, but now it had grown into something bigger. So, as he always did, Curtis decided to think with his head instead of his heart.

He decided to ignore the burning sensation in his chest and bury it deep inside. It wasn’t difficult. With a little doubt and even less interest, it could be easily resolved. Just like he had always done before.

The occasional strange phenomena would surely resolve themselves once Dalia Fraser, his wife, was by his side. There was plenty of time and nothing would change.

The ember that Dalia had ignited in his heart, like a thorn in his chest, burned with her lingering warmth, heating his blood. But in time, even that would be swept away by the passage of time.

So Curtis moved forward with unwavering steps, no longer looking at anyone. The escape that would hide Dalia’s death and Irvelyn’s appearance was now less than a year away.

***

It didn’t seem long since the Moon Banquet had ended, but time flowed like water, and soon summer arrived, bringing with it the first beads of sweat that formed on the back of his neck.

Dalia’s life had not changed. She continued to manage the Duke’s affairs, kept a close eye on Curtis’ every move, and occasionally dined with him in suffocating silence. Their relationship remained the same.

Of course it had. Since she acted the same, there was no reason for anything to change. If it continued, she would simply prepare herself for a silent poisoning and make her escape when the time came.

“Thank you, my lady, we have arrived.”

Lost in her thoughts, Dalia was brought back to reality by the voice of her companion. She hadn’t even noticed that the carriage had stopped and the door had opened.

The scorching sunlight, so intense it felt like it could burn, poured in, overwhelming her senses.

The attendant quickly adjusted the umbrella, and once free of the blinding light, Dalia looked around with a calm expression on her face.

The Empress was personally overseeing the charity event, so it seemed that most of the capital’s influential figures had gathered. Yet, amidst the rows of large tents, the seat reserved for the Empress – who had so energetically organized the event – was conspicuously empty.

As the Duchess of Fraser, Dalia’s seat was the closest to that position, a place given to her by virtue of her status, though the emptiness of it all weighed heavily on her.

After receiving the details from the Empress’s palace, Dalia, though not overly active, effectively played the role of the Empress’s representative, answering the questions of the surrounding noblewomen and young ladies.

“How is the Empress?”

Dalia’s question caused ears to perk up, and a noblewoman close to the Empress replied calmly, as if there was nothing to worry about.

“She is still weak, but not enough to worry about.”

“I hope she will recover soon. I should send her some medicine to help her recover.”

“The Empress will surely appreciate the Duchess’s thoughtful gesture.”

Once Dalia had started the conversation, the others eagerly began discussing what items they could send to help the Empress.

After giving everyone enough time to praise the Empress, Dalia looked up at the clear sky, with only the blazing sun overhead, before clapping her hands quickly.

“We must not disappoint the Empress. Let’s get going.”

Even before her words had echoed, the attendants and servants sprang into action, the noblewomen, experienced in such events, leading the young ladies who were unsure of what to do.

Dalia, who expertly managed the entire event, left no room for error in her leadership. Even those who had once subtly mocked her as the ‘Lucky Duchess’ now followed her instructions without hesitation, a testament to how gracefully she had always performed her ‘duties’ as Duchess. Meanwhile, the charity event continued in full swing, with Dalia at the centre of it all, her presence commanding and poised.

While the noblewomen, who usually didn’t get along, exchanged subtle glances and created an uncomfortable atmosphere, Dalia quickly intervened, separating the two and directing them to sit down and cool off for a moment. As she casually scanned the room, Dalia’s green eyes suddenly darkened.

“Irvelyn?”

It was only when she heard her own voice slip out that Dalia realised.

Irvelyn. There she was. The illegitimate daughter of the Countess of Romand, who had been nothing more than a topic of gossip among the loose-lipped at the last New Year’s gathering.

It was said that the Countess of Romand was fond of her, and it seemed that the rumours were true.

Irvelyn, an illegitimate child who hadn’t even made her official debut in high society, was invited to an event hosted by Her Majesty the Empress.

In the absence of Count Romand’s wife, it was clear that she had come in her place.

‘Hmm. Had I seen her at this event before my regression? No, and even if I had, I probably wouldn’t have remembered her.’

Back then, Irvelyn was just someone easy to forget – someone who would pass by without leaving a trace, someone no one would think about again.

Most of the people here probably saw her the same way. She was just one of the many illegitimate children of aristocrats, another fleeting piece of gossip that would soon be forgotten.

But Irvelyn quickly shook the kingdom, and by the time Dalia had died in her previous life, almost everyone on the continent knew her name.

Dalia tore her eyes away from Irvelyn, who now seemed rougher, with an unpolished look and awkward mannerisms compared to what she remembered before her regression.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t resent her. If Irvelyn had deliberately set out to seduce Curtis, it would have been easier to just curse her out without a second thought. But even now, the lingering bitterness twisted in her chest.

She was just another victim of circumstance. Although she was the child of a powerful noble family, she was an illegitimate child – weak, powerless and trapped too late in the world of the blue bloods.

Yet she was like a flower on the verge of wilting – heartbreakingly beautiful, full of sorrow, and it was this sorrow that drove Curtis mad.

How could anyone curse or take revenge on someone whose natural beauty had captivated so many?

In her last moments, Dalia remembered Irvelyn’s satisfied smile just before she died, a smile that lingered in her memory as she drew her last breath.