Chapter 9
“Actually… to be honest, I came out because I heard movement outside my office and realized it was you. I wanted to convey my thanks personally.”
“…….”
“…Madam?”
“Yes? Ah… yes…”
Grace, staring blankly at Arthur as if she had lost her mind, suddenly jolted when she realized he was addressing her. Even more, she realized just how close he was, which made her panic.
‘When did we get this close? Did I somehow step this close to him first?’
Her cheeks flamed before she even realized it, and she took a step back, flustered. She stammered toward him,
“Oh, no… compared to Leon’s red diamond… it’s… it’s nothing really.”
“To him, the necklace you gave him is just as precious as that red diamond.”
“Oh… haha. R-really? That’s… that’s wonderful. I suppose next year I’ll have to give him something even better.”
“…Next year?”
“Yes, next year. Ah, before that, when is your birthday, Duke? Is it also in winter, like Leon’s?”
Arthur’s unusually softened demeanor had Grace feeling inexplicably elated.
For the first time since meeting him, their conversation had flowed gently and long—but suddenly, Arthur’s expression darkened, and the words stopped.
Grace realized her mistake when she saw his gloomy face without responding to her question.
‘You idiot! Why did I mention next year?’
She knew all too well the curse: women who got involved with Arthur Felix either went mad or died within a year. And she, aware of the curse and even planning to use it to escape, had just made a blunder.
Flushed with awkwardness and embarrassment, she bit her lower lip. Arthur let out a short sigh and shifted the topic.
“…There’s no need to concern yourself with me. There’s no particular occasion to be celebrated anyway.”
“W-why?”
Her earlier remark about celebrating his birthday had been said casually, not out of real intent. Yet Arthur’s blunt refusal sparked a reflexive response from Grace.
He let out a brief, wry laugh and looked at her with a heavy gaze.
“Your kindness is like giving seawater to someone dying of thirst.”
“…Huh? What do you mean by that?”
Grace repeated, unable to understand. Arthur’s gaze was complex, but he replied calmly:
“To someone constantly neglected, starving for affection, a small kindness from a beautiful person like you becomes a source of obsession. They will strive to earn more, cling more, and eventually demand even greater kindness from the one who gave it.”
“…I see…?”
“I’m afraid. I fear that your small, meaningless kindness will make me mistakenly incline my heart. After all, you are destined to leave me, whether by death, madness, or your own choice to avoid either. Eventually, we will part.”
“…!”
“Leon may forget such wounds as he grows, but I am different. I no longer wish to desire what the gods have forbidden me, only to be hurt again. I especially don’t want anyone to die or go mad on my account.”
Every word Arthur spoke calmly carried the sharp edge of his wounds and loneliness. Grace was struck speechless by his insight and the weight behind his words.
Arthur, appearing indifferent, allowed a faint wry smile to appear. Then he removed the ornament from his shoulder, took off his cape, and draped it over Grace’s shoulders.
“It’s very cold, and quite late… so go to your room and rest. I’ll come in shortly after.”
He said this quickly, then walked off in the opposite direction.
Holding the cape he had draped over her before she could refuse, Grace watched Arthur’s receding figure in stunned silence.
It was cold, late, and there was no one else to protect her from monsters or beasts, yet she couldn’t look away.
Was it because she felt uneasy after revealing her thoughts to him? Or out of sympathy for his position? Grace didn’t understand her own complicated feelings.
Warm winter sunlight streamed through the partially closed curtains.
On the canopy bed, Grace, who had spent a sleepless night, heaved a long sigh and sat up.
‘I really didn’t sleep at all.’
After parting from Arthur in the garden the night before, she had returned to her room immediately, but her mind was too cluttered to sleep properly. Her previous mistakes and Arthur’s words weighed heavily on her.
‘Mentioning next year was such a mistake.’
She tugged at her long hair in frustration. She shouldn’t have spoken those words, and now she felt uneasy knowing Arthur’s thoughts.
‘…Could it be that Duke Felix already sensed my plans and spoke as a warning?’
The thought only made her mind more restless.
It was entirely possible. Many royals in her lineage inherited magical abilities through repeated marriages with the Albaton family. Using that innate magic to read a commoner’s thoughts would be trivial.
If that were the case, she needed to prepare to “act mad” quickly before he could stop her. Otherwise, she might never escape the castle. Anxiety gnawed at her, and she bit her fingertips.
“Milady, are you awake?”
At that moment, a knock and Sally’s voice came from outside the room. Grace turned and answered.
“Yes, I’m up, Sally. Come in.”
The door opened, and as usual, Sally entered with a tray carrying a basin of water and a simple breakfast.
Grace got out of bed, set the tray beside her dressing table, and spoke to Sally as she approached.
“Good morning, Sally.”
“Good morning! Oh, it’s so cold today, my hands are freezing.”
“Really that cold?”
“Yes. Will you go for a walk again today? If so, perhaps in the afternoon rather than morning? The wind is still harsh, and I worry you might catch a cold.”
“…Alright, then.”
“Here, have a seat. I’ll help you get ready.”
Sally pulled out the chair for Grace with her red, chilled fingers. Grace sat, and Sally helped her wash her face and comb through her tangled hair. Sally’s hands were gentle as she untangled the ends she had messed up earlier.
Once her hair was combed and treated with flower oil, Grace spoke:
“Sally, you’re skilled at combing hair.”
“Thank you! I’m confident in this at least.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ve even taken care of the late Duchess, Lady Electra, and other former fiancées of the Duke.”
“Oh… I see.”
“Oh dear, did I speak out of turn? I’m sorry. Please forget what I just said!”
“It’s fine. That’s understandable.”
Sally apologized, startled by her unintentional mention of Arthur’s former wives and fiancées. Grace smiled lightly and forgave her, then suddenly asked:
“Sally, may I ask you something?”
“Of course, anything.”
“Since Lady Electra, have you always attended to the Duchess?”
“…Ah, yes. Among all the attendants and maids of the Felix household, few were suited to serve the Duchess.”
“So… you must know somewhat about what happened to the previous ladies, then?”
Grace asked cautiously, watching Sally’s expression. Sally sighed deeply, setting down the comb.
“Yes. I don’t know everything, but I can say I know better than anyone in this house.”
“…Then… can you tell me about it?”
Sally’s face darkened with worry. She seemed unsure where to start. Grace waited patiently for her answer.
