Chapter 10
It was a time of endurance that, no matter how many times she experienced it, seemed far from ever becoming familiar.
This man too must have felt the same, yet unlike her, his utterly relaxed demeanor pressed down on some nerve in an irritating way. It felt as if she was being drawn in, as if she was losing.
Lirete composed her expression, trying to pretend she too was unruffled. It was clearly not an easy thing to do.
“It’s not like it’s been just a day or two, so why are you nervous?”
“Who’s nervous……”
“You’re sweating.”
“……”
“It’s slippery and unpleasant.”
The grown man complained as if he were a five-year-old child. Lirete had noticed the clamminess that seeped out whenever their hands rubbed together, but she pretended not to.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Then how do you explain this sweat?”
“Why do you assume I’m the cause?”
“Then, is it my fault?”
“It could be because Your Grace’s hands are too hot.”
Valderion laughed incredulously, then shook his head.
“I’ll take that as a compliment about my passionate nature.”
“You’re overly optimistic.”
“If you knew I’d approach with such passion, you might at least show some willingness to match my pace.”
How could she match his pace any more than she already was?
Lirete suppressed the sigh that rose habitually. There was still a long way to go before thirty minutes were up, and there was no need to sour the man’s mood already.
Especially not today, when—like the night she had asked him to remove the shackle—she needed him to show her some leniency.
The act of holding hands.
When merely considered, it felt like a trivial action, but in practice, it was somewhat different.
For instance, there were many things that became more palpable to the five senses.
The difference in size reminding her that the palm pressed against hers belonged to the man, the body temperature that seeped through—sometimes cool, sometimes warm—as if proving their different temperatures, the realization that, trivial as it might feel, some part of her body was nonetheless connected to someone else’s……
Upon reviewing each point, only the impression that this was by no means a light act remained.
“After holding like this, does it last about a day?”
Valderion asked, his eyes on her small, tender hand that couldn’t help but flinch at the joints whenever he applied pressure.
Lirete nodded.
As he had guessed, if she endured these thirty minutes with all her might, her fingers would move freely for at least a day without the sensation of stiffness.
After acquiring the Name, Lirete had learned that a day was shorter than she had thought.
Because when the time came when the seams of her joints grew stiff, as if her nerves were clumping together, she would realize that a day had already passed, and that it was time for the Duke to come to her bedroom.
“And when I touched your back, how long did it last?”
Though he said *back*, it wasn’t difficult to guess what he was truly referring to.
His name, delicately embroidered on her skin.
“About a week……”
The difference was tragically distinct.
Wondering if Lirete was the only one who thought of that, Valderion wore a contemplative expression, then suddenly bent his fingers without warning. Lirete, feeling her palm scraped, flinched and involuntarily struck his tangled hand away.
When she raised her head, the man was looking at her as if to say, “Are you making a fuss over something so trivial?”
Turning her gaze, she saw that the lower part of the hourglass was now full.
When the thirty minutes were up and it was time to let go, the man would habitually play some nasty trick like this.
“Seeing you react like this, I doubt I’ll be able to dream of touching your Name.”
It seemed today’s act was closer to testing her reaction than a prank. In any case, it was certainly of poor quality.
Lirete curled and uncurled her newly returned fingers repeatedly and moved about a hand’s breadth away from him.
“I have something to ask.”
“What is it?”
“Is there a library in this building?”
Valderion, who had been drinking a glass of water after finishing his obligatory daily routine, looked back at her as if to ask why she wanted to know.
“I want to read books.”
“……”
“There’s nothing to do in here, after all.”
Based on her life so far, she guessed that the main building where the master lived and stayed was not this place.
After the shackle was removed and her radius of activity expanded, Lirete had leaned against the door and observed the outside presence more days than not.
This place was so devoid of people that calling it an abandoned house wouldn’t be a stretch. For a ducal house of such scale, the number of servants they employed would be considerable.
Considering that aside from the butler, not a single soul was visible, and that he had appeared in the garden earlier before coming here, he likely moved from his usual main building to this place.
In short, this place was a cozy prison designed solely to confine and surveil Lirete.
If they had emptied an entire building for that purpose, then at least within these walls, it should be fine to move freely.
“This is Your Grace’s concern, but it’s also mine.”
“……”
“I want to know whatever I can find out as well.”
“And you think the answer is in the library?”
Valderion massaged his temple, as if faced with an unpleasant matter.
“The level of information you could scrape together has probably already been compiled and reported to me by my aide.”
“……Still.”
“……”
“I’d rather do something than just sit in the bedroom all day.”
It was a prison furnished with everything one could need.
But no matter how well-appointed, it was still a prison. Just because one ties a ribbon around gloomy iron bars and adorns them with pretty ornaments doesn’t change the essence of the space, does it?
Lirete felt that, each day she remained confined here, something inside her was being thinly and dryly crushed.
If the imperial palace with Dailun had been painfully unbearable and taxing, this place felt truly empty and fleeting.
“If you’re still worried I might try to escape, you can have someone accompany me.”
“……”
“I don’t know how many times I’ve said this, but I’ve told you repeatedly. I too now know that this isn’t a problem that can be solved by running away.”
Valderion’s face showed he was deep in thought. He was probably weighing whether granting this permission would come back to his own detriment.
Lirete hoped he would appreciate that since the shackle had been removed, she had behaved obediently without causing any trouble.
“Fine, alright.”
“……”
“Instead, you’ll take the butler with you.”
It wasn’t complete freedom, but that alone was something.
“The library is at the end of the hallway on the second floor.”
“……”
“Well, even if you tear it apart, I doubt any useful information will come out.”
Despite his skeptical attitude, Lirete grasped a sliver of hope. The information he had given her was fragmentary, and moreover, it had been focused on ‘Valderion’—his precious self and bloodline—rather than for her benefit.
Lirete still had much to find out about the Name.
—
The next day.
Lirete headed to the library with the butler.
“As this annex is not normally used, it’s a little disorganized.”
As the butler said, the interior clearly showed signs of neglect. Dust stirring up from the bookshelves and desks was visibly floating in the air.
Lirete coughed lightly, *cough*, and waved her hand through the air.
“Is there something specific you are looking for?”
“I’ll look around myself.”
Leaving the butler behind, Lirete browsed between the bookshelves.
Unlike her hands, her legs, which had not received treatment, limped without respite, as if she had sprained her ankle. Becoming familiar with the accustomed pain, she focused on selecting books.
Carrying an armful of potentially useful books, she returned to the bedroom.
Lirete piled the books on the table in front of the sofa and examined them intently, but just as Valderion had grimly reported, she could find no useful content.
Not stopping there, she began to read through medical texts. Since the phenomenon of the Name itself was rare, even when she managed to find a relevant passage, it rarely exceeded a single page.
*’So there really isn’t much new information to find.’*
Lirete, utterly exhausted, rested her head on the table.
Scarcity always came hand in hand with a lack of information. If the occurrence rate is low, it becomes difficult to obtain samples, and consequently, research on the phenomenon inevitably progresses slowly.
As far as Lirete knew, the Name was one such subject.
In particular, since it was rightly called ‘god’s mischief,’ it tended to ambiguously straddle the boundary between reality and unreality.
After all, isn’t it hard to even feel it’s real?
That the souls of two people who were complete strangers to each other just yesterday could be tightly bound by an invisible thread through a single name, reducing them to a tragic fate where they cannot live without each other.
*’It truly is like a curse……’*
Lirete gazed blankly at her half-turned field of vision, following the tilt of her head.
But it was too early to give up.
The library in this annex, though unkempt, dusty, and old, possessed a diverse collection of books.
She even came and went from the library twice a day.
Her diligent efforts would likely reach Valderion’s ears through the butler, but she didn’t care.
Lirete, having piled today’s armful of books on the table as well, massaged her sore calves.
It struck her as somewhat pitiful, this sight of herself, in a body suffering from the Name’s symptoms, desperately trying to find any clue about the Name.
Still, today she had found a book that might prove somewhat useful.
It was a book written by a foreign scholar from across the sea named Farve, a man who had personally experienced the Name.
Unlike other books that contained at most a single page, this one had about three or four pages.
Lirete’s eyes moved busily as she opened the book.
Scanning from information she already knew to newly learned but unremarkable details, her pupils stiffened rigidly the moment she turned the next page.
—
*[The majority of one-sided Name manifestors, who lack a connected partner, do not survive five years after manifestation and meet their death.]*
