Headrin watched her hand, then suppressed a sigh and rose from his seat.
“…Rest.”
Contract. Contract. Contract.
Judging by how the word tumbled out whenever she opened her mouth, it seemed his fake wife was determined to stake her life on that one-year agreement.
He didn’t know why that fact, which had been set in stone long before the marriage, suddenly hit him now, or why it made such irritation flare up within him.
Headrin ran a hand through his bangs with agitation and exited the room. Ruth was waiting outside.
“Fire that hypnotist.”
At his lord’s low-spoken command, Ruth’s eyes widened.
“Pardon? Didn’t you say to keep him on standby?”
“Find a new one. He seems like a quack.”
Headrin walked past Ruth, heading back to his study, and added, “And tell that maid from the Imperial Palace to come to my study.”
Upon hearing who Headrin meant by ‘that maid,’ Ruth unconsciously stiffened.
She was the woman who always glared at everyone in the ducal residence with eyes full of hostility. He had never spoken a word to her, but just from her gaze alone, he had no desire to strike up a conversation.
“T-that woman, why her?”
At Ruth’s retort, Headrin’s cold gaze snapped back.
One did not talk back to their lord’s command.
“…As you wish.”
Ruth gave a stiff, formal bow—something he didn’t usually do—and walked away.
* * *
Suddenly summoned to Headrin’s study, Lina stood there, fidgeting with her fingers and staring intently at his desk.
She did this even though that handsome face, which other maids were busy swooning over whenever they crossed paths, was right in front of her.
And understandably so; she couldn’t even begin to guess why he had called her out of the blue.
The only thought that crossed her mind was an absurd one: ‘Don’t tell me he heard me cursing him in my head!’
But there was no need to be scared.
The one in the wrong was the Duke, who had abandoned his bride right after their first night, not her, who had served Blair with all her heart.
Just as Lina was straightening her cowering frame, Headrin, having removed the cigar he’d been holding from his lips, finally spoke.
“I heard you served my wife for quite a long time.”
Contrary to her resolve not to be intimidated just moments ago, Lina jumped in surprise. “Y-yes! That is correct.”
“Is the reason there is no fireplace lit in her room because Blair is afraid of fire?”
On their first night, the fireplace in Blair’s room hadn’t been lit—even on a day cold enough to snow. At the time, he’d just assumed she didn’t like the stifling air.
But the moment he saw Blair suffering while facing the memories pulled out by hypnosis today, it had hit him like a lightning bolt.
“Ah, yes. That’s why I keep the fireplace off whenever I’m warming the room while she’s away. It would be fine as long as she doesn’t get too close, but she still seems uncomfortable with it.”
“Because of that incident ten years ago?”
“I believe so. Although she has never spoken of it directly…”
“And is the chronic coughing for the same reason?”
“Yes. I heard her respiratory system was weakened as an aftereffect of the accident.”
As expected, that was why.
Having received his confirmation, Headrin twisted his lips.
“You may leave.”
Lina left, and the sound of the study door closing echoed through the room.
As Headrin unconsciously went to put the cigar back in his mouth, Blair’s coughing echoed in his mind.
Along with the image of her looking at him with dazed, tear-filled eyes just moments ago.
He let out a sigh of irritation and set the cigar back down. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes in frustration.
The sunlight flickering behind his eyelids reminded him of her fine platinum blonde hair, and it bothered him.
* * *
The next day, Blair was bedridden with a fever.
“Sometimes, when someone suffers a great shock, their immune system weakens as a result, leading to illness. It seems Her Grace is in such a state.”
The private physician gave his diagnosis and departed.
Headrin, who had come upon hearing the news, watched the sleeping Blair with a somewhat dumbfounded expression.
How could a person be so frail?
By nature, a woman’s body was bound to be weaker than a man’s. But even accounting for that, his wife seemed to possess a constitution that fell far below the average health of a normal person.
“Please call me if you need anything.”
Noticing that Headrin would not be leaving anytime soon, Lina quietly exited the room.
He watched Blair sleep, motionless.
In the peaceful scene, the slender woman, letting out ragged, heated breaths through slightly parted red lips, looked quite miserable.
Headrin, who had kept watch for a while, approached the bedside. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, flushed with heat.
The breath escaping through the small lips that had just barely touched the back of his hand still held a fever, but it was certainly better than it had been a moment ago. The antipyretic seemed to be working.
It was then, as Headrin pulled his hand away with a soft sigh, that it happened.
“…el.”
A faint voice permeated the silence.
Headrin stared at the lips from which the voice had escaped. Blair’s delicate brows furrowed as if in pain, and she struggled to move her small lips again.
“Aziel…”
The pitiful voice, let out with a sob, scattered through the quiet room. His hand, which had been withdrawing, froze.
Hearing the stranger’s name flow from her lips, the image of Blair, who had been obsessed with the ‘contract’ every single time, suddenly came to mind.
Only then did all her actions until now make sense.
Aziel.
It must be the name of a lover she loved so much that she wanted to meet him even in her dreams, and was willing to endure the agony of retrieving those terrible memories just to fulfill the contract.
Was her claim that she didn’t believe in love ultimately just a lie to hide her true purpose?
Was she hiding the existence of that precious lover deep down, fearing that he might expose it to the entire world?
Headrin let out a derisive snort and stood up.
The hypothesis he had lightly dismissed before now took shape, but whoever that fool was who had dared to fall into a forbidden love with an Imperial Princess, it had nothing to do with him.
Yet, the fact that the name flowing from the woman’s lips bothered him was likely because he found the woman who deceived him while hiding her true intentions pathetic.
It probably didn’t help that the name happened to be that of a Del Marc ancestor.
Headrin walked straight out of the room.
Ruth, who had been looking for him, was startled when he encountered his lord. He was always a man with a cold face, but right now, he was colder than ever.
While Ruth hesitated at that intensity, Headrin asked first.
“What is it?”
“The Baroness Sionel has sent a catalog.”
Baroness Sionel was, in name and deed, considered the greatest fashion designer in Ardel. Though born a commoner, she was a tremendous talent who had been granted a title after her skills were recognized by the Empress Dowager Katrina.
They had intended to call her to the ducal residence today to produce the formal wear for the upcoming New Year’s festival, but the plans had fallen through because Blair was bedridden.
The servant who went to deliver the news had brought back the catalog instead.
Headrin accepted the catalog from Ruth.
“She asked if you would be so kind as to select the fabric first, so that we might secure the rare materials in advance.”
Opening the catalog, he saw samples of fabric cut into small squares and pasted down. Beside them, the pros, cons, and prices of the fabrics were written in detail in small script.
Headrin closed the catalog and returned it to Ruth, saying, “It doesn’t matter what it is, just tell them to secure fabrics that are good for keeping warm.”
For the Duke of Del Marc, who possessed wealth on par with the Imperial Family to begin with, the price of fabric was not a consideration.
* * *
A few days later, when Blair’s condition improved, Headrin brought in a new hypnotist.
She was a woman with a gentle impression who looked to be in her mid-thirties, and she was said to be from a vassal family of the Del Marc Duchy.
The woman, who introduced herself as ‘Agnes Lorellain,’ explained the plans ahead to Blair.
“Those who have lost their memories due to a great shock may sometimes bury their memories even deeper as a reflex if one tries to force them out.”
Agnes continued her explanation with a soft smile toward Blair.
“That is why, rather than trying to rashly pull out the memories, I intend to start by slowly getting accustomed to the memories of that time.”
“In what way?”
“First, once a week, would you be willing to share stories about your childhood during our tea time? Any story is fine.”
Blair met Agnes’s eyes with her usual calm face, but her fingers under the table were fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
With the method Agnes suggested, she could not reach the memories quickly.
There was only one reason she was so obsessed with finding the memories of that time. Because no matter what, she had to find them before she could have Aziel.
If she couldn’t end this contract marriage before getting pregnant, Headrin would eventually discover the pregnancy.
Furthermore, since her body hurt every time she tried to find her memories, she couldn’t attempt it once she was pregnant.
Less than half a year remained until she could have Aziel.
It was a tight schedule to wrap up everything here and prepare to leave.
Lost in thought, Blair could not readily respond to Agnes’s story; she kept her hands on the table, merely fidgeting with the rim of her teacup.
As if she could read Blair’s mind, Agnes said, “Don’t be too impatient. I will surely help you find your memories. Just relax your heart, trust me, and follow my lead.”
There was an irresistible power in her gentle gaze.
Could she really tell personal stories in front of a stranger?
She wasn’t keen on it, yet she found no urge to reject Agnes’s proposal. Strangely enough.
“Alright.”
Watching Blair finally nod readily, Agnes smiled broadly.
“I look forward to hearing what stories you will tell me, Your Grace. By listening to them, I will be learning another life as well.”
Just as the two were setting the date for their next tea time, a presence was felt behind them.