Flustered, she quickly pulled her collar closed. As her pupils trembled, Yevgeny asked with a calm expression, as if he hadn’t seen anything at all.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, nothing.”

At Rochelle’s firm reply, he nodded, put his hands in his pockets, and turned away.

As she slowly took in the empty space Yevgeny left behind outside the cabin, Rochelle carefully whispered his name to herself.

“…Yevgeny.”

His deep, weighty voice had promised her safety. Even though it was only words, she found herself enjoying a strange and artificial sense of peace under Yevgeny’s protection.

How odd. She couldn’t understand why she felt secure around that revolutionary. She might lose her life at the whim of his childish temper at any moment.

Naturally, Rochelle found herself imagining, even if only for a moment, what it would be like if she never landed in Castiya and spent her whole life, forever, in this quiet room with the man.

A life trapped inside the cabin, hidden from the world, or a life on the free plains where she’d have to be wary of poachers all day long. Which was happiness and which was misery? It was impossible to say.

Now, she gently touched the clean, white bandages on her fingers—Yevgeny must have changed them for her the previous night—then stood up. She slipped her feet into the slippers prepared for her under the bed and pulled the man’s thick black coat over her bathrobe.

Checking the clock on the wall one last time, she saw it was almost noon.

Rochelle slowly moved to the table beside the bed. Carefully pulling out a chair and sitting down, she found a blue fountain pen in the drawer.

When she tried to pick it up, the cylindrical pen kept rolling over her bandaged fingers, making it hard to grip. After a deep breath, she put the pen back in the drawer and stood, looking around.

Turning her head slightly, she could see a vanity and a mirror.

As she approached, she soon confronted her dreadful appearance.

Her limbs were thin, her cheeks sunken, and her skin was so pale it looked dusted with powder. Her hair, clearly showing she’d just woken up, was a tangled mess, and her bangs hung limply down to her nose as if splashed with cold water.

She awkwardly touched her gaunt, unflattering cheek.

To think she was talking about happiness looking like this. She wondered if she might truly be a fool, when a low voice sounded behind her.

“Miss.”

For a moment, she thought it was Ivan’s voice and couldn’t answer right away. Shuddering, she glanced in the mirror and saw Yevgeny reflected there, holding a shopping bag.

“Why are you up? Did you feel stifled?”

“A little.”

“And your fever?”

“Thanks to your care, it’s all gone.”

“That’s good.” Saying this, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt and set a paper shopping bag on the table. Inside were several outfits for a young woman.

Rochelle quickly picked out a thick navy dress and held it up to her body. It was simple but elegant, with a lace collar that gave it a touch of detail. It looked quite luxurious.

“…You have excellent taste.”

Rochelle smiled awkwardly. Yevgeny, standing straight beside her like a bodyguard, raised an eyebrow and asked politely,

“Shall I exchange it for another size if needed?”

“No, I think it’ll fit perfectly. Thank you.”

Rochelle made sure to express how much she liked the dress, then headed for the bathroom.

She took out the underwear she had folded and put away in the bottom of the drawer on the first day, put it on, and slipped out of her bathrobe to put on the soft dress. The lace at the chest fluttered lightly with each movement.

Turning the golden doorknob and stepping out of the bathroom, she saw Yevgeny had also changed into new clothes; his shirt was crisp and fit him perfectly. When he saw Rochelle hesitating in front of the bathroom, he smiled gently, his eyes curving beautifully.

“It suits you well.”

“….”

“Put on your shoes. I thought we might step out to a café for a bit. If you need anything else, we could stroll through the shopping district together.”

“Would that really be alright?”

Rochelle’s eyes widened in surprise. Yevgeny pulled a hat from the bottom of the paper bag and pressed it firmly onto her head.

“I don’t believe the staff have memorized the faces of all the passengers. As long as you cover your hair and eyes, you won’t be suspected as a Kotov.”

“….”

“If the need arises, I’ll vouch for your identity.”

Startled by the unexpected offer, Rochelle stood frozen for a while, then looked him over with a suspicious gaze.

With no change in his expression, Yevgeny placed a pair of shoes at her feet, his face still wearing a gentle smile. Then, as if there was no time to lose, he pointed at the clock on the wall.

“We must return to the cabin by seven at the latest.”

The second hand was pointing to 1:40.

Staring blankly at the shoes, Rochelle quickly gathered herself.

She lifted her hair with both hands and tucked every strand neatly under the hat. Then, worried her eyes might still show, she pressed the hat down hard, making her head look a bit comically swollen on top.

Frowning deeply, she pressed the top of the hat down with her hand. For a moment it flattened, but then it puffed up again.

Worried about Yevgeny’s social reputation, since he’d have to spend half the day with her, Rochelle cautiously asked,

“Don’t I look a bit silly?”

“No.”

Yevgeny answered immediately, handing her a fox-fur scarf and raising his dark brows slightly.

“You’re still beautiful.”

***

As if rain might fall at any moment, the sky was tinged gray, and sure enough, before long, transparent raindrops began to fall.

Watching Rochelle’s shoulders slowly get wet, Yevgeny frowned slightly.

“Are you cold?”

“…Just a little.”

“If so, before we visit the shops, why don’t we stop at a café for some hot tea?”

“But you have to take your hat off indoors.”

Rochelle fiddled with her hat brim, her tone worried.

“Are you really still following such old-fashioned etiquette?”

His question, tinged with surprise, made her freeze. She just opened and closed her lips blankly. Her breath, carried by the sharp wind, drifted far away.

“Ah, I…”

While Rochelle’s tongue moistened her parched lips, Yevgeny tilted his head and asked again,

“Come to think of it, you said you were an orphan. Where did you learn to read?”

She hesitated, watching him carefully. With her vision blocked, she had to lift her head quite high to see his face.

The sliver of his golden eyes she could see was almost excessively gentle.

“…I was taught by a priest at the orphanage.”

“….”

“When I came of age and was about to leave to live on my own, he told me that being able to read would be a great weapon.”

Her voice, lying, cracked pathetically. She quickly lowered her head. The reality she’d briefly forgotten came rushing back. This place, which she had thought was a momentary refuge, was still hell. Her mood sank coldly.

“I see.”

Yevgeny, who had reached the shop entrance ahead of her, cut off the conversation and opened the door with one hand, letting her in. A waiter who had been waiting nearby approached politely.

“Hello, how many in your party?”

“Two.”

Yevgeny answered immediately. Following the waiter to a seat inside, Rochelle glanced around. In this secluded tavern, untouched by travelers, candles were lit here and there, and the place was very quiet.

“Please call me if you need anything.”

The waiter placed the menu on the small round table and quietly disappeared. As Rochelle sat down carefully, her calf brushed against the hard shoe of the man beside her.

“Sorry,” Yevgeny said, uncrossing his legs. Then he leaned back deep into his chair. His excessively long legs made the already cramped space under the table seem even more uncomfortable.