Chapter 11
Just then, Benjamin called out to her.
“Helena.”
Helena glared at him with burning eyes.
What is it, you bastard?
Never in her life had she felt such violent hatred.
Benjamin Ishpern.
He was nothing but a penniless man with a handsome face, marrying her only for her dowry.
If that were the case, he ought to spend the rest of his life worshipping her like a queen. Yet he believed nothing but the absurd rumors spreading through the capital and treated her as though she were some promiscuous, hopeless woman.
Receiving the fierce hatred blazing in her eyes, Benjamin’s lips curved into that twisted smile she had once thought beautiful.
“Thank you.”
Slowly, he raised a hand and touched Helena’s cheek.
“I, too, will love only you for the rest of my life.”
To Helena, his vow sounded less like a declaration of love and more like a proclamation of war.
Get yourself together, Helena.
She turned her gaze back to the marriage vows.
The wedding could no longer be undone anyway.
Benjamin Ishpern, right now you think everything is going exactly the way you want, don’t you? But there’s one thing you don’t know. I’m Helena Winston. Fine. Let’s see you try.
There was something he did not know.
She was not an unfortunate woman forced into marriage by scandal and tied to a dowry.
She was the Empress’s spy, marrying him to uncover the secret he was hiding.
Until the day Benjamin finally opened his heart to her, she would endure and be patient.
And the moment he trusted her completely, she would strip away every last one of his secrets without leaving even a speck of dust behind.
Helena read the marriage oath with savage determination.
“As the lord and lady who govern this great territory, as wise and prudent husband and wife, as companions united in body and soul, we swear before God and our honorable families to walk forward together.”
As she spoke the words aloud, she made another vow in her heart.
You’re dead. I’m going to uncover whatever secret you’re hiding and drag you down into ruin. For that, I can tolerate a bastard like you as much as necessary. And later, even if you cry and beg for forgiveness, you won’t get a drop of mercy from me.
When her vow ended, the priest spoke.
“By the grace of God, these two are now husband and wife.”
The journey to Burwood was a nightmare.
Ah.
Helena corrected herself.
Not every part of the journey was terrible.
The trip from Hodlin, the territory of Count Winston, to Duras, where the Gate was located, had been the sort of travel Helena was familiar with—comfortable and pleasant.
Amid the tearful farewells of those who loved her, she departed Hodlin in the carriage Count Winston had prepared for her.
The carriage her father provided glided over the well-paved roads as smoothly as if it were cutting across ice.
Whenever they passed beautiful scenery, she enjoyed picnics with the maids accompanying her. And when the sun set, they stayed at the estates of friendly nobles, where she was treated as an honored guest.
“I can’t believe this. A distance that takes one day on horseback is somehow taking three.”
Benjamin Ishpern grumbled loudly enough for her to hear, but Helena paid him no mind.
I just wish he’d shut up.
That was her only thought.
The pleasant and comfortable journey lasted only as far as Duras, the northern capital.
Upon arriving there, Helena had to send back her carriage and maids in order to use the Gate—the fastest and safest method of travel from north to south.
The moment she stepped into the strange ancient ruins she had never seen before, her hell began.
The Gates were originally an important means of transportation for the empire’s nobility.
But Helena, who had never traveled beyond the capital and its neighboring cities, had never used one before.
So she had no idea her Gate sickness would be so severe.
The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It felt as though her entire body melted like sugar submerged in water, only to be forcibly compressed back together.
It resembled a terrible hangover—except three times worse.
In short, it was utterly revolting.
The instant she emerged from the Gate in Larings, the major southern city, Helena emptied the contents of her stomach into the paper bag she was holding and promptly fainted.
But her suffering did not end there.
When Helena regained consciousness, she nearly fainted again.
Waiting for her was a shabby carriage that looked more like a coffin.
Naturally, vicious curses toward Count Ishpern’s utter lack of preparation surged to the tip of her tongue.
But she swallowed them back down.
No. Let’s stop expecting anything from that count bastard.
As Helena climbed into the carriage with a deep scowl, she heard the count muttering behind her.
“It may not satisfy your tastes, but this was the only carriage we could secure on short notice.”
Helena shot him a murderous glare before slamming the door shut hard enough to make it bang.
The rusted hinges screamed in her stead.
And so Helena began her tour through hell, loaded into what felt like a coffin.
According to Aaron, the count’s adjutant, it would take seven days and nights of nonstop riding to travel from Larings to Burwood. Since they were traveling by carriage, he added another day or two to the estimate.
In the end, the journey through hell lasted ten days.
And throughout those ten days, Helena suffered agony so terrible she often thought death might be preferable.
Inside the cheap carriage rattling down rough roads, her body bounced violently up and down all day long.
Her brain felt as though it were being shaken inside her skull, and whenever the carriage jolted, her teeth clattered together uncontrollably.
Helena was naturally sensitive and already prone to headaches. In circumstances like these, the result was obvious.
Whenever she shut her eyes and endured the rattling of her teeth, a horrifying headache born from stress and motion sickness overwhelmed her. It felt as though a rusty rake were slowly scraping through her brain.
Wrapped in fur from head to toe, she curled up on the carriage seat and endured the pain and nausea over and over again.
Whenever the wheels struck a large rock, her frail body would lift into the air before crashing down against the carriage floor.
At those moments, tears of pure fury streamed down her pale cheeks.
Meanwhile, Count Ishpern—perhaps hoping she would die—pretended not to look while checking on her several times a day.
Helena repaid his pathetic concern with eyes full of resentment.
Even swallowing anything was difficult. The water tasted like rust, and the food tasted like dirt.
Eventually, Helena refused to eat altogether. Since she would only vomit it back up anyway, she thought it better not to eat at all.
But perhaps intending to kill her through food, the count kept bringing strange meals and tossing them before her as though feeding scraps to a dog.
Helena deliberately poked through the food and returned it untouched.
The carriage moving was torture, but even when it stopped, the dizziness remained.
Whenever she stepped outside, the ground beneath her feet swayed like mud, while the sky spun endlessly above her head.
She truly felt as though she were dying.
During those ten days of travel, Helena barely ate and scarcely slept deeply. It was the worst suffering she had ever experienced in her life.
In the midst of that hellish misery, the only thing sustaining her was imagining Count Ishpern being punished.
When I return to the capital, I’ll ask Her Majesty the Empress to send a carriage. Then we’ll tie that bastard count to the back of it.
Imagining Count Ishpern dangling behind the carriage, sobbing miserably, improved her mood slightly.
With her gaunt face, Helena let out a faint laugh.
Ten days later, when Sir Aaron knocked on the carriage window to inform her they were nearing Burwood, Helena nearly cried tears of joy.
First, I’m taking a hot bath. Then everything will be fine. After that, I’m burying myself in a soft feather blanket and not moving for at least two days.
However, as they approached Castle Ishpern, Helena’s anticipation slowly transformed into dread.
Sinister gray clouds spread across the blood-red sunset sky.
The hill upon which the castle stood was covered in reeds taller than a person, while crimson spider lilies grew thick around the moat surrounding the fortress.
And in the center stood something that looked half burned and half rotted away—a ruin.
What… is that…?
The shock was so great Helena forgot even her motion sickness and sat upright inside the carriage.
The carriage slowly passed through the rusted gates that no longer closed properly.
Looking up at the decorations hanging from the gate’s archway, Helena briefly wondered what kind of grotesque ornaments they were.
The moment the thought crossed her mind, every single one spread its wings and let out horrifying cries.
The “ornaments” were all crows.
The carriage rolled through a garden overgrown like a jungle with weeds and finally stopped before the blackened castle.
Helena could no longer control her expression.
With a face drained completely white, she stepped out of the carriage.
I have to… live here…?
Standing there like a ghost, she heard Benjamin Ishpern speak with that familiar crooked smile.
“My wife. Welcome to our home.”
