Chapter 12
“…Why are you two acting like that?”
Seeing the two adults standing in silence and creating an almost suffocatingly awkward atmosphere, Leon looked back and forth between them in confusion.
Instead of answering, Grace only hugged Leon tighter against her chest and thought desperately that she wished someone—anyone—would break this silence.
“Madam! Madam! Where are you? …Sir Oliver, you’re sure you saw Madam and Young Master Leon around here, right?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“Then could they be over there? Madam! If you’re there, please answer!”
At that moment, voices calling for Grace could be heard from the opposite side of the garden—Sally and Sir Oliver.
Grace’s face brightened visibly as she responded to the voices.
“Sally! I’m over here!”
“Oh my! There you are!”
Hearing her reply, Sally and Oliver hurried over with quick footsteps to where the three were standing.
When they noticed Arthur and Grace standing quite close together, both of them widened their eyes.
“Oh my, the Duke is here as well. Greetings, Your Grace.”
“Greetings, Your Grace.”
“It’s been a while, Sally.”
Arthur responded flatly to Sally’s greeting, then turned his gaze toward Oliver, who had dropped to one knee before him.
“Sir Oliver, where have you been all this time? I clearly instructed you not to leave Leon’s side.”
“…I apologize, Your Grace. This was my failure.”
“Don’t scold him, Brother! I wanted to walk alone with Sister-in-law!”
Seeing Arthur reprimand Oliver in a cold voice, Leon wriggled out of Grace’s arms and shouted quickly.
Arthur glanced sideways at Leon, let out a short sigh, and stepped closer to Grace, standing before Leon.
“Next time, even if you want to be alone with my wife, never let Sir Oliver leave your side. It’s dangerous.”
“…Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t scold Leon. I was the one who told Sir Oliver that I would watch over Leon.”
As Leon answered meekly, Grace gently spoke up in his defense. Arthur turned his head toward her, his expression stiff, and gave a small nod.
“I know. That’s why I came down.”
“…Pardon? Ah…”
Grace echoed him blankly, then let out a small sound of realization.
Come to think of it, that night Arthur had said the building right next to the garden was his office. That meant he had once again been listening to her and Leon’s conversation from there before intervening.
‘…Does that mean he’s been watching me walk here this whole time?’
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
‘Did I ever say something careless while walking alone? I didn’t say words like “escape” or “acting,” did I…?’
Grace felt her scalp prickle as she tried to recall whether she had muttered anything suspicious to herself.
“By the way, Sally, what business do you have with my wife? If it’s something only she needs to hear, I’ll excuse myself.”
Arthur asked Sally bluntly. Sally shook her head lightly.
“No, that’s not it. What I came to tell Madam is something Your Grace should hear as well.”
“Something I should also know? What is it?”
“Oh? What is it?”
Arthur frowned, and Grace also asked with curiosity.
Sally then took out a letter wrapped in red silk and handed it to Arthur. He unfolded it, and Grace stepped closer to read it as well.
“…An imperial wedding celebration banquet?”
Grace murmured the words written on the letter, then her expression hardened.
A conversation she had shared with Sally just a few days earlier resurfaced in her mind.
‘…Every woman connected to Duke Felix met “someone” at the wedding celebration banquet, and then something terrible happened afterward, didn’t it?’
There was no concrete evidence, and Sally hadn’t stated it explicitly.
But after thinking it through on her own, Grace had reached one conclusion: if the “curse” attached to Duke Arthur Felix wasn’t something innate, but something cast by someone to frame him, then the person behind it must be connected to that wedding banquet.
Realizing that made fear grip her suddenly.
As she bit down on her lower lip in silence, Arthur—standing beside her—folded the letter with clear displeasure and spoke to Sir Oliver.
“…It’s already been over a week since my wedding. And now they want to hold a celebration banquet. I can’t imagine what His Majesty is thinking.”
“Your Grace is His Majesty’s trusted subject and relative. I believe he truly wishes to bless this marriage.”
“A blessing, hm. I question whether it’s truly meant as a sincere blessing. The nobles and royals attending will surely gossip behind our backs—wondering whether Lord Alberton’s blessing spell will prevail, or whether my curse will.”
“…!”
“Y-Your Grace! Th-That kind of statement—!”
Arthur’s lips were tightly set as his cold voice released barbed words dripping with venom.
Grace felt another chill run down her spine. Arthur sounded as though he was already convinced that after attending the banquet, his brides or fiancées would die or go mad.
‘Does that mean… he knows where the curse comes from? Is there really something about that banquet?’
Grace stared at Arthur with trembling eyes.
If that was the case, then the one she should fear most wasn’t Arthur. It also meant she would need to revise her plan.
What exactly was the truth behind this “curse”?
Who did it originate from? If someone had truly cursed him at the banquet all this time, why did Arthur continue to attend? And why hadn’t he actively denied that the curse was his doing?
‘What is the real truth? I want to know. Anything—just give me some kind of clue.’
Grace swallowed dryly and watched Arthur, hoping once again that he would reveal something.
“I’m joking, Sir Oliver. I don’t believe His Majesty would create such an event just to mock his poor subject and cousin.”
Arthur brushed it off with a bitter smile, as if nothing had happened.
Grace felt her shoulders slump slightly and let out a quiet sigh. Sir Oliver replied stiffly.
“…Of course. His Majesty would never do such a thing. There is no one more loyal to His Majesty than you, Your Grace.”
“Even so, this wedding banquet is hardly welcome. Sally, is it possible to send a letter declining it, even now?”
“…You know that’s impossible, Your Grace. They already sent the letter with the date fixed.”
“…This is troublesome. If the banquet must happen, could you at least ask whether I may attend alone?”
“…What? What do you mean, attend alone?”
Grace exclaimed in shock at Arthur’s words. Arthur turned to her and replied flatly.
“They won’t say it out loud, but they’ll all be watching you with cruel curiosity—wondering how long this bride will last before going mad, when and how the current Duchess Felix will die.”
“…!”
“Do you think you can endure those gazes?”
“…Ah.”
“And you already know that the one giving us the blessing will be Duke Alberton. I’ve heard you’re on poor terms with Duke Alberton and his family.”
Arthur’s blunt words sounded cold on the surface, but there was faint consideration beneath them.
Grace felt her face grow warm again at this unfamiliar kindness. It was the first time someone had considered her position before their own.
‘…No. Get a grip. I can’t let my heart waver.’
She quickly steadied herself. She couldn’t dwell too deeply on Arthur’s words.
She had to remember—she returned from death to live as Grace, not as “Grace Alberton” nor “Duchess Felix.”
‘If I want to safely “go mad” and leave this place as planned, I have to attend the wedding banquet.’
Of course, things had changed. She’d grown attached to Leon, and she’d developed feelings toward Arthur that she couldn’t quite name.
So she had adjusted her plan slightly.
She would become the last duchess to “go mad and leave” this Felix estate.
‘If Leon is to grow up without being hurt any further, then I have to be the last one who dies or goes mad.’
To do that, she needed to uncover the tangible truth.
Grace looked at Leon, gazing up at her with his beautiful heterochromatic eyes, smiled once, and spoke.
“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m already used to those kinds of looks.”
“…Used to them?”
“Yes. You said I’m on bad terms with the Alberton family, right? That’s correct. To be more precise, they unilaterally looked down on me. …So I’m used to eyes full of cruel curiosity.”
“……”
“So don’t worry about me. And besides, we can’t defy His Majesty’s command anyway.”
Just like how I couldn’t defy the order to marry you—and died for it.
As vivid memories of her death resurfaced, Grace felt her whole body tremble, yet she forced herself to continue calmly.
