51.

“I’m sorry.”

Ophelia, pale as a ghost, whispered like a dying person. Annoyed by her words, I opened my mouth savagely again.

“Come to think of it, you could only return to McFoy if I died. Is that your happy ending?”

I didn’t even know what I was saying. I just wanted to hurt the person in front of me by any means necessary.

The word “happy ending” seemed to confuse Ophelia further. Her eyes were filled with bewilderment.

“Oh, maybe not this time? ‘Ophelia’ must kill Nyx and reveal the truth behind his resurrection to become a hero and achieve a happy ending, right? Too bad, you got it wrong this time!”

I sneered at Ophelia with a wicked expression. Despite not understanding the meaning of my words, Ophelia desperately shook her head as if to deny it.

Meanwhile, the forced smile on my lips didn’t last long. Somehow, my own attack felt like it hurt me more. Like someone with no more regrets, I straightened up and distanced myself from Ophelia.

“Now get lost. Don’t ever set foot on McFoy land again. Before I really kill you.”

I spat out the words with a face hardened with anger.

“Would that make you happy?”

Ophelia muttered unexpectedly. The absurdity of her words left me speechless.

Happy? You, of all people, talking about my happiness? How presumptuous.

I glared at Ophelia in shock. In the meantime, Ophelia staggered and stood up, following me.

“If that’s what you want, if that makes you happy, I’ll do it. I will.”

Ophelia spoke with a completely distorted face. Then she suddenly reached out her hand, causing me to instinctively step back. But there was nowhere to retreat, blocked by the bed.

In the brief moment I floundered, Ophelia forcibly pressed a crumpled, damp note into my hand. My brows furrowed deeply, just like the note in my hand.

“Sorry.”

Annoyed by her repeated, meaningless apologies, I was about to lash out again.

But I couldn’t. Because, in the blink of an eye, Ophelia vanished from my sight as silently as she had come.

‘Was it a dream?’

I blinked slowly, trying to grasp the situation. Standing awkwardly, I slowly lowered my gaze. But there was the note Ophelia had given me in my hand.

‘It wasn’t a dream.’

I stared blankly at the note before unfolding it. I ignored the trembling of my hands as I smoothed out the damp paper. Even though no one was watching, pretending to be fine was my habit.

Petra Landry is pregnant with Philip Morfolk’s child. She will give birth to a son next spring. The midwife will be her sister, Mrs. Kruger.

The note was brief. I must have looked more menacing than ever the moment I read it.

Was this supposed to be proof that she had seen or lived two years after my death?

According to my sources, Sonnet Kruger’s situation was dire. Her old husband had died, and she had returned to her family home, barely getting by on the money her sister Petra sent.

In noble society, where it was a disgrace to work, I thought she was simply receiving money because she had no skills. However…

A midwife is not just anyone. One must have holy power to become a midwife. Moreover, the Empire, which despises illegitimacy, strictly controls midwives, allowing only registered ones to deliver babies. Petra’s sister, Sonnet Kruger, was not registered as a midwife and was recorded as someone without holy power for some reason.

‘So it really was about an illegitimate child.’

The inconsistencies stemmed from falsified records long ago.

I struggled to breathe properly, not because of the letter’s content. The idea that a noblewoman secretly performed midwifery to survive was hard to believe but could have been discovered with time.

What bothered me more was the handwriting. It was no longer the handwriting I knew, written with her left hand.

With that thought, the ground that had been cracking beneath me since morning finally crumbled. It felt like my heart dropped to my feet, just like when I fell from Tantalus’s highest prison.

The sound of the world I had built over ten years collapsing was terrifying. Enduring such a harsh world felt meaningless, like a rumor; I crumbled easily.

It wasn’t just meeting Ophelia. Precisely, it was that I had finally exceeded my limit.

Nyx’s resurrection, the events of Tantalus, <Ophelia and the Night>.

Scandal and Morfolk.

Archie and Erica, who seemed to live well without me.

The desperate Kano.

Individually, these things would have been manageable. But when they all hit at once, my already precarious footing shattered.

‘Ah. I can’t do anything anymore.’

I felt I couldn’t endure anything more, so I bent over and shivered slightly.

I fell, feeling the descent, and collapsed. The overwhelming sense of failure and helplessness weighed down on me. Kneeling there for a long time, staring ahead, I slowly collapsed to the floor.

I involuntarily let out a bitter laugh. The thought of wanting to give up everything consumed me. Lying there motionless, I held my breath for a long time.

How long had it been? At some point, Antoinette, who had been out of sight, came over and licked my cheek as if urging me to get up. I slowly opened my eyes.

My meeting with Ophelia was brief. I probably lay there as if dead for much longer.

Reflecting on my reunion with Ophelia after ten years, it felt like being pressed by a nightmare. It was a vivid, horrible dream, more intense than my usual nightmares.

Blinking blankly for a long time, I slowly got up. My cold sweat had dried, leaving me feeling sticky and feverish as if I had caught the flu.

‘This is frustrating.’

I angrily tore off the necklace hanging around my neck.

Next, I grabbed the hair ornaments entangled in my braided hair and yanked them down. The sharp pull hurt my scalp, and the broken hair ornaments scattered across the carpet. My braided hair unraveled, and my voluminous curls cascaded down my back.

Even acting like a child uncomfortable in their clothes didn’t alleviate my frustration. I tugged at the bodice of my dress around my neck and chest, but my strength wasn’t enough to tear the carefully sewn stitches.

As my irritation mounted, my breathing quickened. I hurriedly ran to the terrace and flung the window open. My actions were impulsive, the result of a mind too exhausted to think clearly.

A gust of cold winter wind stabbed my already chilled body. The biting wind was painful. It cleared my head, but the frigid air made my eyes feel dry and scratchy, causing me to blink repeatedly.

With a disheveled appearance, I leaned on the railing and slowly took in my surroundings.

The fortress was silent, as if everyone were asleep. It felt like I was the only one awake. The world seemed to continue peacefully, unaffected by my crumbling reality.

“Haha, ha!”

I let out a small, bitter laugh, almost like a sob.

In the seemingly frozen landscape, I noticed something moving. It was white and stood out brightly in the moonlight, almost as if the moonlight itself was following it.

It was Norma Diazi, wandering the garden like a sleepwalker.

At first, I thought I was seeing a ghost. Too much had happened today, and I couldn’t trust that I was in my right mind.

However, the cutting wind soon made me realize that the white figure was indeed Norma Diazi. He wandered aimlessly in the dark, causing me to furrow my brow.

Norma still seemed to be tormented by something. Perhaps the friend who cursed him or calypso. Or maybe both.

I watched his back for about ten seconds.

I wasn’t someone who could hide my presence, and Norma, despite his fluctuating consciousness, was a highly skilled holy knight. He seemed to notice my presence, turning around slowly like a ghost.

I doubted we would make eye contact from this distance at night. Yet somehow, I felt he was looking directly at me.

‘Is he looking at me? Or is he seeing something else, like before?’

I remembered seeing him staring into space in the inn restaurant on the way to Katam. My grip on the railing tightened involuntarily.

Just then, Antoinette, who had followed me out, jumped up through the open window. She stood next to me for a moment before spotting Norma and leaping off the railing.

“Ah!”

I let out a small scream, momentarily forgetting how high my bedroom was. But the fear was short-lived. Like the feline predator she was, Antoinette landed gracefully. She seemed more excited than tired, bounding energetically toward her master.

I saw Norma extend his arms to lift Antoinette. Then, he looked up again, clearly towards me. This time, I was sure.

‘He is looking at me.’

I couldn’t take my eyes off Norma, who wandered around someone else’s castle in the middle of the night without sleeping.

‘Does he do this every night? What if he gets hurt or has an accident? Should I inform the Diazi family?’

Watching the precarious Norma made me forget the cold and ponder. Although I wasn’t in a position to worry about others, I feared I wouldn’t be able to handle any more incidents.

Oblivious to my concerns, Norma, who had been staring blankly in my direction, suddenly looked around. Then he stared back at me. His suspicious behavior made my expression grow more serious.

And then, in an instant, Norma vanished from sight. Alarmed, I searched for him frantically, soon spotting him as he jumped down from a tree close to my bedroom terrace.

Norma was standing on a slanted tree branch, holding Antoinette in his arms.

With the moonlight behind him, I couldn’t see his expression clearly. His movements, however, were slower and more dreamlike than usual. Even though he should have shown proper etiquette, he stood there, staring blankly at me as if I were an apparition.

He seemed too cautious to even consider climbing the terrace railing, behaving overly careful for someone facing a ghost.

“It’s cold tonight, Lady Aisa.”

Norma spoke. He seemed to have been wandering outside for a long time.

“Why are you crying again?”