Having managed to pull the bell cord, Blair curled up in bed and waited for Lina. The warmth of the fireplace still clung to the room. Headrin must have lit it that morning before extinguishing it to leave.
A sudden thought crossed her mind.
*I don’t think Headrin is behind the assailant.*
A man who readily admitted his faults and offered apologies; a man who had stayed by her side to soothe her fear of fire—she couldn’t believe he would have killed her, regardless of how much he might have despised her.
Just as she was drifting off to sleep with these thoughts, a knock sounded, followed by Lina’s voice.
“Your Grace, I’m coming in!”
Lina entered, carrying a basin of water.
As Blair rose, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection. Her skin was mapped with red marks, as if flowers had bloomed across her flesh. In her past life, these traces of the night had been a source of shame, but now, they felt disturbingly familiar.
“Lina, could you bring me some clothes?”
“Ah, yes!”
Lina set down the washbasin and hurried to fetch her a clean set of garments.
“Thank you.”
Blair pulled them on. Lina, usually prone to chattering as she worked, remained unusually quiet.
Curious, Blair glanced at her and saw the maid deliberately averting her eyes.
Only then did it occur to Blair that Lina was embarrassed by the marks left on her body.
*In my past life, Lina also became suddenly quiet while serving me in the mornings not long after I was married.*
Suppressing a smile, Blair asked, “Where is the Duke?”
“Ah. He left about an hour ago. A knight from the Imperial Palace arrived, claiming that magical beasts had appeared in the outskirts.”
Blair’s expression hardened.
It was the duty of the Imperial Knights to maintain order in the capital.
Yet, even in her past life, Ivan had treated Headrin like his own private guard. He would insist that the knights from the North, who were far more skilled at hunting magical beasts, were needed for assistance.
Knowing that innocent people would suffer if he refused, Headrin would often comply without a word of protest.
Blair hated that.
She hated that the commoners were getting hurt, she hated that the Imperial Knights were being neglected, and she hated that Headrin endured such blatant exploitation.
*If I divorce him, my brother will lose his excuse to make those demands.*
At the thought, she couldn’t sit still.
Blair dressed hastily and swung her legs out of bed. The moment her feet touched the floor, her strength failed, and she slumped back against the mattress.
Startled, Lina rushed to steady her.
“Your Grace! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Why don’t you just rest today? There are no pressing plans, and… you’ve been pushing yourself quite hard lately…”
“No. I’ll be fine in a moment.”
Blair rose, ignoring Lina’s worried gaze. She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of amusement at the maid’s thinly veiled displeasure toward Headrin—the root cause of this fatigue.
Lina brought the washbasin closer, concerned about Blair’s overexertion. She even insisted on bringing the meal to the bedside, effectively vetoing Blair’s plan to walk to the dining room.
After finishing her meal under Lina’s overprotective care, she felt her strength returning.
Only then did Blair begin her day.
She stopped by the room where Pippi was staying to check on the cub’s growth and played for a while before heading toward the mansion’s library. She needed to study the neighboring countries.
*I plan to stay in the Clarnia Kingdom until I give birth to Aziel, but I don’t know where I’ll settle after that. It would be wise to study the regions surrounding the Empire.*
However, the book she sought was missing from the shelves.
The librarian wore a troubled expression.
“It seems one of the servants has checked it out. It is still on the ledger, so I will go and retrieve it for you immediately.”
Books were expensive, and nobles rarely granted their servants access to the library. But Headrin had kept it freely open; he wanted everyone affiliated with the Del Marc name to read comfortably whenever they liked.
Blair didn’t want to interfere with his wishes.
“No, there’s no need for that. It isn’t urgent, and the person who borrowed it first should be allowed to finish it.”
Seeing this, Mason, who had been watching from the sidelines, offered a suggestion.
“Your Grace, why don’t you look in His Grace’s private study?”
Headrin’s private study was connected to his office, designed for easy access to research materials. Having never visited it in her past life, she felt as if she might be intruding on his sanctuary.
“Is it alright for me to go in?”
Mason studied her. Most of the staff in the duchy avoided her; even if they didn’t openly slight her, they kept their distance. Blair never demanded favor, yet her every movement was guarded, as if she were a guest in someone else’s home.
Mason had been hesitant when he first began serving as her butler, but months of observation had softened his heart. How could he not grow fond of a woman who learned with such earnest effort and felt genuine joy at a single word of praise?
She reminded him of Esmeralda, who had raised her with love. To him, long past the age of being swayed by worldly prejudice, that was all that mattered.
“Your Grace is the mistress of this house. There is no place in this mansion you cannot go, and no item you cannot use,” he said, his voice reassuring. “His Grace has never given orders to the contrary.”
Blair followed him to the office. But the moment she stepped inside, she froze.
The office, which had been in complete shambles ten days ago, was now organized as if nothing had ever happened. A hot flush crept up her neck.
Embarrassed, Blair quickly averted her eyes.
Mason looked puzzled. “Your Grace? Is something wrong?”
“……No, it’s nothing.”
*I should stay away from this office for a while.*
Blair hurried toward the passageway leading to the private study.
“Then, please call for me if you require anything.” Mason bowed and withdrew.
As she opened the door, a vast room surrounded by towering bookshelves revealed itself. It appeared orderly at a glance, but closer inspection showed books scattered here and there—materials Headrin was currently reviewing.
*I thought he was someone who liked everything perfectly in place.*
Surprised by this unexpected side of him, she found the section on foreign history. After pulling out a few volumes, her gaze drifted to a shelf nearby.
*What kind of books are those?*
The other shelves had placards denoting their contents, but this one was blank. Curiosity piqued, she stepped closer. It was packed with texts written in an unfamiliar language.
Blair recognized it instantly.
“Ancient language?”
Books written in this script were typically grimoires. These were works of magic.
*Now that I think about it…….*
The image of him at the New Year’s Festival resurfaced—the way he had wielded sword and magic in perfect synchronization. Those touched by mana at birth studied these texts to master their craft. Headrin was the Empire’s only magic swordsman, and his power was as overwhelming as it was rare.
As she looked at the shelf, a dormant childhood dream flickered to life. Once, she had wanted to be a mage, believing that magic could grant any wish, even those that seemed impossible. She had spent hours in the Imperial library with a dictionary, trying to decipher these very characters.
She hadn’t become a mage, but the effort had left her with a functional grasp of the ancient tongue.
Her eyes landed on a tome resting atop the others. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, and she coughed as she brushed it off.
Unlike the others, this black leather cover bore no title—only a symbol for infinity.
*Infinity? What kind of magic requires such a cover?*
With trembling fingers, she opened to the first page. The paper was yellowed and fragile, and the ink was faded with time.
Blair studied the script, interpreting the characters one by one.
“Magic…… of time.”
What on earth was the magic of time?
She had deciphered the title, but the meaning only deepened her confusion.
Just as Blair reached out to turn the page, her heart skipped a beat.