Chapter 12
Whenever that happened, Chelsea had no choice but to eat the fruit again.
“Your father’s inheritance? Do you think anything like that would still exist? You have no idea how much trouble it took to raise you….”
As she grew older and realized how unfairly she had been treated.
When she demanded the inheritance that should rightfully have been hers, only to be coldly rejected.
And every time she was disappointed by her uncle’s family—
She soothed her heart by recalling the sweet fruit.
She clung to that single drop of affection her uncle had shown her.
That was why, after leaving the house with only her dowry, she planned to forget everything.
“Would you like some fruit? It’ll definitely give you strength.”
Chelsea sincerely believed that the fruit was both affection and medicine meant for her.
So whenever she received fruit from the Larmine household, she shared it with everyone in the marquis’ estate.
Especially with the ailing former marchioness—she personally cut it for her and fed it to her almost every morning and evening.
And yet, the lady’s condition only worsened.
Perhaps it wasn’t enough.
The amount she received from the Larmine family didn’t seem sufficient.
So Chelsea decided to collect the seeds and cultivate them herself.
However, not long after planting them in the greenhouse, she witnessed something unbelievable.
“Why… did everything die?”
She had only planted them near other fruit trees as a test.
But the moment they sprouted, every nearby tree withered and died.
Even though she hadn’t adjusted the temperature, a chilling air spread—enough to raise goosebumps on her arms.
Only then did Chelsea realize the true nature of the “fruit” she had been eating.
It was something she had only ever seen in botanical books—
A cursed seed that, the moment it sprouted, drained the life force of its surroundings and created a powerful addictive effect.
She had believed that fruit was the last remaining affection from her family.
How foolish she had been.
How naïve.
Only then did she realize—
She had not only become completely addicted to the cursed fruit, but had also put her in-laws in danger.
Others were relatively safe, since they had only eaten it a few times.
But her mother-in-law, who had cherished her like a daughter…
“It’s all my fault. Because of me, her condition worsened faster than the doctor said… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….”
When the former marchioness called for Chelsea alone just before her death, Chelsea tearfully confessed her sins and said she would accept any punishment.
But the frail woman simply shook her head.
“It’s alright, my dear. I was going to die soon anyway, so I have no regrets. …Do you remember the Spirit Herb? Grow it. You can do it.”
Instead of exposing the truth, she left behind a final request—to grow the Spirit Herb.
The Spirit Herb was an extremely difficult plant that the former marchioness had tried her entire life to cultivate, but failed.
Though it was a plant, it chose its master.
Only the one it recognized, who provided exactly the right amount of water and sunlight at precise times, could make it bloom.
Following her will, Chelsea tried countless times to grow the Spirit Herb.
But she failed again and again.
Continuous failure, her husband’s changing attitude, and the guilt she could not erase slowly ate away at her.
In the end, she chose to run away from everything.
She resolved to leave for a foreign land where she had no ties and quietly die alone, believing it would atone for her sins.
But at the final moment of decision, what stopped her was—
Creak.
The greenhouse door opened slightly.
Peeking inside, Chelsea quietly stepped in.
The caretaker should be at lunch.
Since the greenhouse relied on its own security system, there were no guards aside from the caretaker.
So entering wasn’t difficult.
It’s almost noon.
After checking the time, Chelsea walked deeper inside, making sure the other plants and flowers were growing well.
Thanks to the fact that she had entrusted all her remaining dowry to their care, everything looked healthy.
Now, if she just checked the plant in the innermost section—
“Marchioness Greydan.”
Before she could open the final door, a clear voice called out to her.
“Are you here to check on the Spirit Herb?”
How does she…?
Chelsea froze, then slowly turned toward the sound.
It was a woman she had never seen before—yet somehow felt familiar.
“Today’s the last day to give it sunlight, right?”
Chelsea opened her mouth but no words came out.
Who is she?
Was she sent by the marquis?
She needed to persuade her somehow—
“Chelsea.”
Before she could speak, a familiar voice interrupted.
“Marquis….”
She thought she had already let go of her feelings.
She had told herself over and over that it was just a contract marriage.
That she could forget him easily.
That she wouldn’t miss him that much.
But the moment she saw his face—
An overwhelming longing gripped her heart.
“Did you hate me that much?”
The marquis asked as he cautiously stepped closer.
“So much that you’d abandon everything and leave?”
The corners of his eyes were red.
His face was filled with pain, unable to even approach her fully as he stared.
“So you left behind all the jewels and money I gave you? Because you couldn’t even stand the sight of me?”
“That’s not—”
“So that’s why….”
He reached out toward her, then hesitated and pulled back.
As if afraid she would disappear if he touched her.
“…You’ve become this thin. Foolishly… Even if you hated me, you should’ve at least taken care of yourself. It’s not like spending the money of a man you dislike would matter.”
Chelsea quietly looked up at him.
It was an expression she had never seen before.
His eyes, always cold, trembled.
His lips, which once spoke only harsh words, quivered.
The man who had always been so composed looked completely broken before her.
After staring at him silently for a moment, Chelsea slowly shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Marquis… It’s not your fault. It’s because of me—my mistake—everyone, the former marchioness….”
She couldn’t finish.
Tears burst out.
The guilt of putting the family who had cared for her in danger overwhelmed her.
Unable to endure it, she collapsed to the ground.
Startled, the marquis rushed forward and supported her.
“Chelsea!”
But her tears wouldn’t stop.
She wanted to lean on him and cry.
But she felt she didn’t deserve that.
“I can’t go back. It’s all because of me. Because of me—”
“No. It’s not your fault.”
Before she could continue, the marquis spoke firmly.
Chelsea looked up in shock.
His face was calm—as if he knew everything.
“My mother’s death wasn’t your fault. She knew everything. And she already forgave you.”
“How… do you know that…?”
“Chelsea, my mother never blamed you. She blamed me instead—for not being a good enough husband.”
“……”
“She was right. If I had been more reliable… you wouldn’t have suffered like that.”
He tightly grasped her trembling hand.
“…So it’s all my fault.”
Pulling her closer into an embrace, he whispered:
“While you were gone, it felt like my soul had been torn away.”
His low voice echoed in her ear.
“The emptiness you left behind… If I could get you back, I felt like I’d sell my soul to the devil. …Without you, everything felt empty. I couldn’t feel anything at all.”
“Marquis….”
“Chelsea, I can’t live without you.”
In his deeply sunken eyes, her tearful reflection wavered.
Something cold—metal—touched the fingers he was holding tightly.
