Chapter 46: Misfortune and Salvation
Screams erupted from everyone gathered inside the banquet hall. Shards from the shattered chandelier scattered in all directions, sending people scrambling in panic.
“T-the chandel-lier…”
Lady Charel, who had narrowly avoided being crushed, turned deathly pale, unable to form a complete sentence. She merely opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, looking pitiful. Considering the chandelier had fallen right above her head, it was no surprise she was in shock.
“Lady Charel, are you hurt anywhere?”
“…Th-thank you, Lady Estelle.”
Fortunately, Lady Charel didn’t appear to have any injuries, but Estelle had been feeling a sharp pain in her shoulder for a while now.
‘It seems like a shard got lodged in it…’
As Estelle frowned in discomfort, Lady Charel began fidgeting anxiously.
“What should I do, Lady Estelle? This is all because of me…”
“It’s alright. I just need to get treated.”
Just then, Liliana ran over, her eyes welling with tears as she looked at Estelle.
“Estelle, your shoulder… it’s bleeding.”
The commotion in the hall continued as more people gathered, murmuring among themselves. It quickly became known that Estelle had saved Lady Charel by pushing her out of the way.
“Are you okay, Lady Charel?”
Liliana helped Lady Charel to her feet and checked her condition.
“Yes… I wasn’t hurt. Lady Estelle protected me…”
Lady Charel still looked dazed as she barely managed to speak.
“Estelle, we’ll clean up here quickly. Go wait in the lounge—I’ll bring some medical supplies.”
Even though no one was seriously injured, an accident was still an accident. Olivia was busy bowing and apologizing to the guests as she escorted them out.
‘If my eldest brother hadn’t warned me about the three-tier cake…’
Lady Charel would have been crushed to death. And if Estelle had reacted even a second too late, she might have died alongside her.
‘I almost died here…’
The thought of dying again terrified her. There was no guarantee that she would return to the past once more, and the mere possibility sent shivers down her spine.
“Hurry, Estelle.”
“Alright. Liliana, please take care of Lady Charel.”
With one last glance at the still-shaken Lady Charel, Estelle made her way to the lounge.
Once inside, away from the noisy and crowded banquet hall, her mind felt a little clearer. She was careful not to move too much, afraid the shard might embed itself deeper into her flesh.
Her shoulder throbbed, but it was better than letting someone she knew die.
‘But… how did my eldest brother know?’
It was completely different from what she remembered. The Rahelrn she knew never approached her first, never acted friendly, and never bothered to concern himself with her affairs.
‘Don’t call me the young duke. Call me your eldest brother.’
She needed to ask him directly when she got back.
As she sat on the sofa, waiting for Liliana, the door suddenly creaked open, followed by the soft sound of footsteps—someone moving carefully.
“…Liliana?”
No response.
“…Your Highness?”
It was Michael.
He was holding a medical kit.
‘He knows I’m injured… which means he was at the banquet hall too.’
Michael’s expression was pained. His face was pale, and he kept biting his lips as if he was deeply unsettled.
‘Because I got hurt?’
Without a word, he stepped behind her and began untying the ribbons.
“Your Highness, I-I can have someone else—”
No matter if they were engaged or had once been married, she still felt embarrassed to expose her bare skin to him.
Especially since this wasn’t the first time—it only made her feel even more self-conscious.
“…Please. Let me see it with my own eyes, Estelle.”
His voice was so filled with earnest pleading that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
Accepting his touch, Estelle remained still.
“This might sting for a moment.”
Michael sterilized the tweezers with medical alcohol before carefully extracting the shards. As he said, every time a fragment was pulled out, a sharp sting shot through her shoulder, making her tremble.
Still, she bit her lip and endured the pain, afraid she would seem childish if she complained.
‘…Huh?’
Then, Michael softened his touch even more, slowing his movements as he gently wiped away the blood with a cotton pad.
“I’ll apply the ointment now.”
His voice, calmly informing her of every step, sent an inexplicable shiver down her spine.
‘My heart aches more than my shoulder… Why am I feeling like this…?’
He scooped out some ointment and applied it to her shoulder. The smooth texture of the ointment was accompanied by the coolness of Michael’s fingers as they brushed against her skin.
“I only treated it temporarily, so you must see a doctor.”
His hands, securing the gauze in place, moved with precision—almost as if he had done this countless times before.
Michael rarely spoke unless necessary, and the silence between them felt awkward. Estelle’s mouth went dry.
“I think it hurts less now, thanks to you. You’re really skilled at this.”
“I suppose it’s because I’ve had to treat myself every time I got hurt.”
She had meant to lighten the mood with a compliment, but his response only made the air between them grow colder.
“…I’m sorry.”
Was it because he was an illegitimate child? Had he been left to tend to his own wounds as a child? She regretted her words, realizing she might have spoken without considering his circumstances.
“Don’t misunderstand. It’s simply because I dislike physical contact with others.”
Michael continued, as if he had read her thoughts.
“Is your shoulder the only place that’s hurt?”
He reached out and brushed her neck, checking if she was in pain.
Unlike when he had treated her shoulder, his touch now felt strangely intimate.
Startled, Estelle jerked backward—too quickly.
With the sudden movement, Michael lost his balance and fell, and Estelle, caught in the momentum, toppled forward.
Their lips collided.
“I-I’m so sorry!”
“Estelle. Wait. Stay like this for a moment.”
As she struggled to pull away, Michael wrapped a hand around the back of her head, keeping her close.
Before she knew it, she had collapsed against his chest, their bodies pressed together.
She could feel his heartbeat—racing just as fast as hers.
“…Your Highness.”
Michael ran his fingers through her hair, weaving between the strands.
“Why are you wearing a wig?”
“…”
She had worn it as a disguise, hoping no one would recognize her. But admitting that felt childish.
‘Should I just say I wanted to wear it?’
As she hesitated, their eyes met.
“I didn’t approach you because I didn’t recognize you. If I had known it was just a wig… No, if I had never invited you to the masquerade in the first place…”
Michael blamed himself for everything that had happened.
“No, Your Highness. The chandelier falling was an accident. Attending the masquerade was my choice, and so was saving Lady Charel. None of this is your fault.”
He hadn’t been the one to drop the chandelier. Thinking this way was simply wrong.
“Sometimes, I wonder… if the greatest misfortune in your life is me.”
His words made her angry.
Was his self-esteem always this low?
“Don’t assume you understand my misfortune. The real misfortune in my life lies elsewhere. In fact, Your Highness…”
He was the only one who had come to find her when no one else had.
“So, if anything, Your Highness… saved me.”
His golden eyes, like stars in the night sky, locked onto hers with an unwavering intensity.
Estelle had wanted to thank him for his words, but she never got the chance.
Michael leaned in, capturing her lower lip between his.
Her thoughts blurred as his deep, entrancing gaze consumed her.
“Y-Your Highness…”
He pressed in again, swallowing her words with another kiss.
He didn’t even give her a moment to breathe.
They lost themselves in each other, their lips moving endlessly.
Their mingled breaths, the warmth between them—it all felt intoxicating.
“Haa…”
When she finally squeezed her eyes shut, his lips pulled away just enough to let their breaths intertwine.
Heat spread through her body, making her feel feverish.
“It’s been a while… since I’ve seen this side of you.”
“…”
Michael’s voice carried a hint of excitement. He even slipped into informal speech, as if they were closer than she remembered.
Had they been like this before?
She had always assumed their marriage had been cold and distant.
“You’re still bad at kissing.”
“I-I am not…!”
Her pride was oddly wounded, and she shot him a glare.
“…Really? Maybe I was mistaken.”
Michael’s voice turned affectionate as he murmured softly. Then, he traced kisses along her fingertips, moving slowly—almost teasingly.
The ticklish sensation crawled up her arm, spreading warmth to her neck.
Just as his lips were about to meet hers again—
“Estelle? Can I come in?”
Liliana’s voice echoed from behind the door, making her entire body freeze.
