Chapter 18
[―――It must be done.]
“…!”
[―――To ――achieve ――this, ――one’s ――is needed. ――A lot, enough to soak the entire body.]
Then came a voice, mixed with a sound like insects crawling inside her ears. It was a voice Grace had never heard before. Just listening to it felt ominous, repulsive, and sickening. It seemed to draw out only the most negative emotions from a person, whispering incessantly in her ears.
[――The bride of Duke Felix must die. All of them. ――Until then.]
“…!”
The chilling voice was followed by a sinister laugh. Grace gasped in panic.
Die…? Why? Who are you to say such things?
Desperately, she tried to shout at the voice whispering in her ears, but only that sharp, taunting laughter reached her.
A shiver ran through her entire body. The laugh felt like chains wrapping around her, constricting her throat. She tried to scream in terror, but no sound came out, as if someone had sealed her mouth.
…No. I don’t want this. I’m scared. I can’t die again. Someone… someone, please…!
Please, someone stop this.
At that very moment, Grace heard a calm voice pierce through the madness:
“Stop, Duke Alberton.”
“…!”
Suddenly, her hand atop the Blessing Scripture was lifted, and all the grotesque, disturbing sounds vanished. In the sudden silence, Arthur’s low, calm voice reached her ears.
He had lifted his hand from hers and interrupted the ceremony.
The horrible noises disappeared like a lie, and Grace, regaining awareness, looked around in dazed disbelief. Realizing that what she had just experienced was an illusion, she finally drew in a shaky breath.
What… was that? Could that really be the curse?
Still confused, she stared at her father, Duke Alberton, who had stopped chanting. He glanced at Grace, sweat beading on his forehead, and in a growling tone addressed Arthur:
“What do you think you’re doing, Duke Felix?! You’re halting the blessing ceremony!”
Arthur met his gaze steadily.
“Can’t you see it, Duke Alberton?”
“See what?”
“My wife is trembling like this.”
With that, Arthur grasped Grace’s hand. She, shocked by the firm hold on her sweat-drenched hand, tried to pull away, but Arthur only tightened his grip.
Then he turned to the Emperor, who had been observing the scene from the throne with a curious expression:
“Forgive my impudence, Your Majesty. But I believe the blessing ceremony must stop here.”
“Oh? Why so?”
Arthur glanced down at Grace before answering:
“As Your Majesty knows, around this time of year, the castle is plagued by severe cold, and many fall ill. We warned everyone to stay warm, but perhaps due to insufficient care, Leon caught a serious cold.”
“Is that so? Now that you mention it, I did notice Leon was absent. Is that why he wasn’t brought along?”
“Yes. Even this morning, Leon’s condition was serious enough that he could not attend today’s banquet.”
“I see. And what does that have to do with the ceremony?”
“This person—meaning Grace—was taking care of Leon, and it seems she caught the cold from him.”
Arthur looked down at Grace with concern, and the Emperor raised an eyebrow:
“Oh, that explains why the Duchess of Felix kept breaking out in cold sweat.”
“Yes. Her symptoms weren’t severe in the morning, but the journey to the capital must have drained her strength, raising her fever slightly.”
The Emperor regarded Grace suspiciously. She, noticing his gaze, leaned lightly against Arthur as if dizzy. The Emperor made a soft sound, nodded slightly, and said:
“…I see. Indeed, she does not look well. Duke Felix, should we call the imperial physician?”
“That won’t be necessary. With some medicine and rest, she’ll recover.”
“Ah, good. I was worried the guest of honor might leave without performing the first dance.”
The Emperor stroked his chin and glanced at Grace. She immediately realized the severity of the matter: in imperial custom, for the guest of honor to skip the first dance would be the gravest rudeness to the host.
Grace subtly signaled Arthur, who reassured her with a glance before replying to the Emperor:
“That will not happen. She may not remain here for the entire ball, but she is well enough to perform the first dance.”
“Very well. Then we shall halt the ceremony here.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Arthur said, kneeling on one knee to express his gratitude.
Grace followed, holding the edge of her dress and bowing. The Emperor nodded:
“Very well. Duchess of Felix, take your medicine and rest. Once you’re ready, resume the ball. Duke Felix, you may escort your bride away for now. Duke Alberton, halt the ceremony here.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We shall withdraw,” Arthur and Grace replied, obediently stepping back.
Even Duke Alberton, though visibly displeased, returned to his place with a measured bow.
Once the immediate tension had subsided, the Emperor clapped twice and addressed the guests:
“The dull ceremony is over! While the bride rests, enjoy food and drink to regain your strength! I shall not return you to your estates until sunrise!”
At the Emperor’s proclamation, the nobles and imperial family laughed heartily. The banquet hall filled with chatter again, and the musicians resumed playing lively tunes.
Grace seized the chance to move to a quieter corner with Arthur. Wiping the cold sweat from her forehead, she felt a wave of relief. Arthur handed her a handkerchief:
“Thank you again for going along with me. I always seem to lie when I’m around you.”
“Not at all. I am grateful. You were just trying to protect me.”
Arthur, concerned about her still-pale face and persistent cold sweat, asked gently:
“How are you feeling? If you’re still too weak, perhaps you shouldn’t attempt the first dance…”
Grace forced a faint smile and shook her head:
“No, I can’t do that. Interrupting the Emperor’s blessing ceremony was already a great rudeness; skipping the first dance would be even worse.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps you should be examined…”
“No. Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“…Very well. But tell me if you feel unwell at any time.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Stay here. I’ll go fetch some medicine from the carriage.”
Grace smiled casually, pretending nothing had happened. Reassured, Arthur seated her on a nearby sofa and stepped out of the hall.
“…Haa.”
Once alone, Grace exhaled deeply and curled up slightly. Despite the outward composure, a lingering unease gnawed at her. What she had heard moments ago could only be explained as the curse.
Yet, she didn’t want to show Arthur her fear.
I know it would be better to be honest with him, to keep some distance, but… why can’t I bring myself to speak?
Even knowing this would be better for her, Grace couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Eventually, whether you die, go mad, or leave to avoid such fates, we would be parted anyway.
I don’t want anyone to die or go mad.
I’m scared.
That night, Grace kept recalling Arthur’s sharp, cautious words, worried she might unwittingly repel even a trace of kindness as she had so many times before.
Strangely…
What is this feeling? Pity?
But could pity feel this intense? Grace forced a bitter smile, clasping her trembling hands.
Even though she feared it, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him everything or maintain distance. She knew that revealing all could lead to being expelled from the mansion before she was ready—or worse, inciting his resentment.
If her father, Duke Alberton, truly cursed him, his first anger would undoubtedly target her, and she would suffer the consequences.
…I’m sorry. Right now, I still care more about myself than you.
Grace bit her lower lip, consumed by endless guilt.
