TINOT 26

Chapter: 26

He had just stepped out of the main gate of the marquis’s residence with Lisithea in his arms.

“Don’t go! Sister, your home is here! Father trying to kill you—don’t be ridiculous! You know that’s impossible!”

Celia’s tearful voice stopped them.

As if she had run after them, her sweat-dampened hand tightly grabbed Lisithea’s.

The clammy touch felt unpleasant. Her stomach churned. A loud ringing filled her ears.

“Today was just an accident. From now on, something like this—”

Celia’s words sounded blurred, as though crushed together.

She could hear the sound, but she couldn’t understand its meaning.

Before she could even cover her mouth, something surged up violently.

Cough—along with a harsh fit of coughing, something hot poured out.

“Today was—”

Celia stared blankly at her own hands, now stained with blood.

Lisithea kept vomiting blood endlessly, as if she had been holding it in her mouth before finally letting it spill out.

A chill ran down Celia’s spine, raising goosebumps all over her body.

“Don’t swallow it. Spit everything out.”

Diamude supported Lisithea’s back, forcing her mouth open so she wouldn’t swallow the blood.

His hands were completely soaked in red.

Celia alternated between staring at his bloodied hands and her own, then awkwardly hid hers behind her back, suddenly feeling ashamed.

Once Lisithea had nothing left to throw up and went limp, Diamude lifted her again into his arms.

He glanced coldly at Celia, who had collapsed onto the ground.

“Celia, was it? Regret always comes too late.”

There is no such thing as early regret.

Regret is the sorrow felt over what has already passed, so no matter when it comes, it is always too late.

And regret belongs to those who remain behind. There was no reason for the one leaving to shoulder that burden.

“Tell the marquis to be grateful that she survived.”

A red glint flashed in his eyes, and the ground trembled as though it were melting.

Screeeeech—several harpies flying in the sky suddenly plummeted onto the roof of the Aster marquis’s main building.

Crash! Boom!

The thunderous sound of massive boulders slamming down echoed in all directions, punching holes through the stone roof.

In an instant, the harpies—now dozens of times heavier—smashed the marquis’s estate into ruin.

“B-blood…”

Alone in the moonless night, Celia desperately rubbed her blood-soaked hands against her clothes.

But no matter how much she scrubbed, she couldn’t wipe the blood clean.

Like that indelible blood, it felt as though she would never again return to the days when nothing had happened.

Her entire body felt heavy, like waterlogged cotton.

Even after regaining consciousness, Lisithea couldn’t bring herself to move.

Lying still and blinking slowly, she stared up at a ceiling decorated in an elegant, classical style.

The refined taste of the homeowner was evident.

It was entirely different from her own bleak, barren room.

Tracing the ceiling’s patterns with her eyes, the reality finally sank in—she had truly escaped that house.

‘Is the annex completely gone now…?’

She remembered the sight of the annex collapsing as it burned.

The condition of the main building, where the rest of the family lived, was not much better—but Lisithea, having lost consciousness in Diamude’s arms, didn’t yet know that.

‘I should get up. There’s too much to do.’

Her head throbbed badly, and she wanted nothing more than to stay lying down, but she couldn’t afford that luxury.

Out of habit, she reached for the bell pull beside the bed—then paused.

The slightly different position made her hand miss.

That gave her time to think.

This wasn’t the annex of the Aster marquis’s estate.

It was the residence of Grand Duke Cassius.

The person who would appear when she rang the bell wouldn’t be Mari, but a stranger.

She didn’t yet know how the staff here would treat her.

No matter how she thought about it, there were far more reasons for them to dislike her than welcome her.

‘They probably wanted their lord to marry someone kind and live happily after all he’s been through…’

She was used to being disliked.

A few more people hating her wouldn’t change anything.

Steeling her resolve, she reached for the bell again—

“Would you like some water?”

Startled by the sudden voice, Lisithea turned her head.

Diamude, who had been sitting in a single chair beside the bed, was pouring water into a glass.

Weariness and exhaustion clung heavily to his side profile.

His expressionless face felt unfamiliar, so different from his usual smiling one.

“…Your Highness?”

At her call, one of his eyebrows lifted slightly, as if displeased.

“Well, that’s not important.”

Murmuring to himself, he gave a small smile and held out the glass.

Lisithea took it and drank.

He watched her silently as she drank.

His gaze made her uncomfortable. Perhaps because his face was expressionless, she felt as if he were angry.

Lisithea absentmindedly rubbed the rim of the empty glass.

She had never struggled to read people’s emotions.

Children raised in hatred learned that skill first.

Hatred was like thorns—impossible to hide.

When the air sharpened, you had to sense it quickly and protect yourself.

Lisithea’s method of protection was to strike mercilessly at her opponent’s weakness and remove them from her path.

She didn’t know how to soften tense atmospheres through gentle conversation.

A pale hand veined in blue gently covered hers.

Taking the empty glass, Diamude set it on the table and sighed.

“I spent a long time thinking about what I should say when you woke up…”

Rubbing his brow, he gave a helpless smile.

“I still don’t know.”

“……”

“So for now, how about we eat something? When you’re hungry, bad thoughts tend to creep in.”

Tapping his temple, he pulled the bell cord.

Almost immediately, the door opened and several attendants entered with a serving cart.

A middle-aged woman at the front smiled warmly.

“Hello, Lady Aster. I am Bernadette Dilton.”

Her face was unfamiliar, but the name was one Lisithea had seen in the noble registry.

Bernadette Dilton was the head of the Dilton County—an aristocrat who had inherited her title. It was not someone a marquis’s daughter should greet while lying in bed.

As Lisithea tried to sit up, Bernadette hurried forward to stop her.

“No, don’t get up. If you collapse again, how could I bear that blame?”

She winked playfully, then turned to Diamude and bowed deeply.

“Did Your Highness rest well last night?”

“Mm, don’t scold me too harshly. I should be making a good impression…”

Diamude grumbled weakly.

“Oh my, then Lady Aster might misunderstand and think I serve an unfaithful master.”

“She’ll think there’s someone terrifying I can’t disobey.”

Their light bickering made the staff chuckle softly.

After giving them a playful glare and laughing along, Bernadette turned to the attendants.

“You may leave now. Ah, I planned to arrange formal greetings later, but is this all right?”

“Yes, that would be best.”

After the staff withdrew, Bernadette formally bowed again.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Bernadette Dilton, head butler of the Cassius Grand Ducal household.”

“It’s a pleasure, Countess Dilton. And since I am not yet married, please don’t be overly formal.”

“As you wish. Though I’m afraid I cannot treat you too casually. Nor should I.”

She personally lifted the lids from each dish, explaining the ingredients and preparation.

“We prepared light meals. If you want anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you. It looks delicious.”

Her careful consideration of Lisithea’s condition was evident.

“I’m glad. I’ll take my leave now. Please eat comfortably.”

Like a gust of wind, Bernadette disappeared with the cart.

She truly lived up to that impression.

As if reading her thoughts, Diamude handed her the utensils.

“Overwhelming, isn’t it? She’s not usually this talkative, but I think she’s excited. A new person has joined us.”

“…She seems very kind.”

“She’ll be kind to you too.”

His brief words were full of trust.

Of course. It would be harder not to trust someone like her.

When Lisithea merely stirred her soup without eating, he teased,

“Am I making you uncomfortable? Should I close my eyes?”

Though he meant to urge her to eat, a sudden mischievous urge welled up.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

His normally cheerful face stiffened in surprise, which was oddly satisfying.

“Yes. Keep them closed until I’m done eating.”

At her firm insistence, he finally burst into laughter.

“All right. Call me when you’re finished. Just eat as much as you can.”

Sitting back in the chair, he raised his arm to cover his eyes.

Sunlight poured over his face.

Lisithea slowly ate, occasionally glancing at him.

She had never found joy in eating.

For her, meals were merely a way to stay alive.

But today’s meal felt different.

The soft, warm bread tearing gently along its grain, the rich and creamy soup, the midday sunshine, and the steady breathing of someone dozing nearby.

It was a peaceful scene she wanted to remember for a long time.

She was glad.

Glad she possessed the ability to recall this moment whenever she wished.