Chapter – 20
With a strange twinge of resistance, Psyche suddenly asked,
“…Why did you change like that?”
“What?”
She couldn’t help but recall her foolish, childish past.
The days when she would walk around the royal palace holding Ikali’s hand, write him little notes to arrange the next meeting, and spend two hours choosing what to wear whenever he came.
But he was destined to go to war.
And contact would be lost again for another four years.
The indefinite waiting would surely dry Psyche up all over again.
She was no fool, and she no longer wanted to be shaken or rely on him.
Her head ached. Psyche pressed her palm to her forehead and leaned against the carriage wall.
Just then, the carriage started toward the duke’s mansion. Ikali no longer spoke to her.
The carriage arrived at the mansion.
Twilight had already fallen, and the moon had risen. Psyche didn’t wake easily even when the carriage stopped in front of the duke’s house.
“Shall I help you?”
“No, I’ll do it.”
Ikali dismissed Hans, who had been waiting at the entrance, and lifted the deeply sleeping Psyche into his arms. He clicked his tongue softly at her doll-like lightness.
He carried her straight to her room.
“…My lady?”
Before the room stood Anna, the maid Psyche had brought from the royal palace. She froze, startled, seeing Psyche in Ikali’s arms.
“Go on.”
Anna flinched but nodded and hurried down the hallway.
Ikali entered Psyche’s room and gently laid her on the bed.
Although there was no candle lit, the moonlight illuminated Psyche’s face.
She hadn’t even muttered in her sleep while ascending the third floor in the carriage.
Ikali watched the traces of her childhood on her face and smiled softly, then deliberately restrained his smile.
Seeing little Psyche long ago would have filled him with a rush of happiness.
Who could dislike a girl so honest with her desires, unafraid to show her affection?
Yet now, seeing her face made Ikali feel a coldness settling in his heart.
He knelt on one knee by her bedside, gazing at her moonlit face.
“Why did I change?”
Ikali recalled the question Psyche had asked in the carriage and scoffed.
“Could you really not change? I’m a monster who killed the foster father who raised me.”
Suffering and self-loathing darkened his face.
Ikali thought it fortunate that Psyche didn’t see his pitiful expression.
He looked at the hair that had fallen across her face, reached out clumsily with his hand, then withdrew it.
“Psyche, you married a monster.”
He was certain.
No one would ever love him.
It was like a curse etched into his bones.
“…Lies.”
It was afternoon, with the sun high in the sky.
Psyche paused mid-bite, looking at Anna, disbelief written across her furrowed brows.
“Last night, the Duke carried me to my room? Anna, that’s a lie, right?”
“If only it were a lie, I think I’d be less flustered too,” Anna said.
Seeing Anna’s expression, it didn’t seem like a lie.
But she still couldn’t easily believe it.
She remembered leaving the Fulham mansion, dozing off in the carriage, and then waking to find herself in bed in the bright morning light.
Who had quietly carried her to bed? Could it really have been Ikali?
Psyche frowned, fork in hand, and Anna tried to speak.
“Well, when you were little, the Duke used to carry you sometimes. Maybe this is just an extension of that…”
“When was this? Anna.”
Psyche pouted at the memory, which had been at least ten years ago, and Anna laughed.
She hadn’t woken even when Ikali carried her. No wonder she had slept so soundly—it had been a long time since she’d slept this well.
Psyche muttered, troubled.
“I guess I was just exhausted from everything that happened yesterday.”
After finishing her meal, she sat at her vanity as Anna brushed her messy hair.
“Yesterday? What happened yesterday?”
“I almost had to close the salon abruptly because of me… hmm, but I slept fine, so I feel a little guilty.”
She sighed, recalling meeting Warren at the salon yesterday.
The salon, which she had prepared over months, had closed prematurely because of her and Warren, and it still weighed on her mind.
Seeing her uneasy expression in the mirror, Anna tried to reassure her.
“Lady Mia will probably understand.”
“Perhaps. Still, I should write to the Marchioness. She asked me to visit her mansion.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news!”
“Yes. She seems kind.”
Psyche thought of Mia and smiled faintly.
In her previous life, Psyche had never made a single friend during the four years she spent in the capital’s social circle.
Lady Tilly had ruined her standing, and Psyche had withdrawn, constantly censoring herself.
So Mia Fulham’s kindness felt deeply heartwarming.
In the afternoon, Psyche wrote a careful letter to Mia Fulham, inviting her to tea at the mansion whenever she wished.
She entrusted the letter to Anna and left the room, only to find Lord Roil Fiens waiting.
“Lord Fiens? What brings you here?”
Roil, pale-faced, bowed immediately.
“My apologies, Lady! I heard you suffered yesterday because I didn’t take proper care of you. I caused you serious trouble!”
Psyche’s eyes widened.
So Ikali really had scolded Roil. It seemed he had.
Watching Roil apologize earnestly, she felt even more flustered.
“No need to apologize. It wasn’t intentional… and I myself agreed to meet Sir Warren. It’s not your fault.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have left your side. I feel ashamed. Please call on me for anything you need from now on. I won’t complain even if you keep me busy until I die!”
Anna, who had followed, chuckled at this. Psyche encouraged him with a smile.
“You must have been properly scolded by the Duke.”
“That’s not the only reason…”
“I like that you’re honest,” Psyche said.
Roil looked surprised, cleared his throat awkwardly, and shrugged.
“Shall we have tea in the parlor then? I hear there’s some fine tea leaves…”
“Why refuse an invitation to tea from my lady?”
Roil quickly perked up and asked for her escort.
“Ah, there you are, Lord Fiens.”
From the end of the hallway, someone scanning the area approached Roil.
A short, plump man with a messy reddish-brown beard.
“Baron Whale?”
“Yes, I’ve been looking for you for a while.”
Psyche’s eyes widened. She recognized him.
Like Roil, he was a retainer of the Duke’s household: Baron Whale.
“What is it?”
“I came regarding a payment. I thought it would be better if Lord Fiens reviewed it before approval.”
“Oh, may we take a look now?”
“Just a quick glance here will suffice.”
Psyche stepped closer to Roil to look over the documents.
As she glanced over his shoulder, Baron Whale cleared his throat loudly.
“There’s nothing here suitable for my lady to understand.”
The rigid tone made Psyche and Anna stare, and even Roil looked embarrassed.
“Even so, shouldn’t my lady see it since she is the lady of the Duke’s house?” Roil protested.
“What use would it be for her to read reports on the Duke’s merchant ships? It would just waste her time.”
Baron Whale replied.
His displeasure was so obvious that Psyche forced herself to hide her expression.
‘Ah, right. Except for Roil, none of the retainers liked me.’
Perhaps because she had spent the past few days getting along with Roil, Psyche had briefly forgotten how the other retainers felt about her.
She stepped back.
“That’s enough. I just glanced, but it’s too difficult for me to understand.”
“Exactly. Didn’t I tell you?”
Everyone knew Psyche was politically inept even within the royal palace.
But she hadn’t expected such blatant disrespect.
Roil tried to give Whale a look, but he remained stiff. Psyche nodded to Roil.
“I’ll be going now. It looks like the Baron is busy. We’ll have tea another time.”
“Eh? My lady…”
Roil, flustered, tried to stop her, but Psyche left with Anna.
Roil let out a deep sigh and shot a glare at Baron Whale.
“Baron Whale, even so, you didn’t need to insult her to her face.”
“What did I do? Was I wrong?”
“It’s not about right or wrong.”
Baron Whale grumbled.
“You’re not the only one with such thoughts. The Duke marrying a princess to repay the royal debt has drained so much money from the household. There’s no way the lady would see him favorably.”
