Kalian opened his weary eyes and looked straight ahead.
Nothing came into focus.
Lowering his gaze slightly, he saw a young maid staring up at him, looking utterly lost—like someone who had just lost their homeland.
“W-why? Why are you leaving already?”
The maid, unable to hide her distress, fidgeted anxiously with her hands clasped together.
Kalian had heard that ever since Yvonne became the duchess, an absurdly young maid had been assigned as Angela’s personal attendant.
It seemed this girl was that maid.
Mary—that was her name.
“The room is a mess. You should go in.”
Kalian studied the maid calmly before straightening his posture from where he had been leaning against the door.
It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was time to leave.
She had said already, but to Kalian, it was finally.
With heavy, deliberate steps, he passed by the maid.
“Your Grace! Your Grace!”
The maid suddenly raised her voice in a desperate attempt to stop him.
If she kept this up, Angela would soon realize he hadn’t left yet.
Kalian quickly halted his steps and turned back toward her.
“Your Grace…”
Her face was filled with sorrow, as if she would burst into tears at the slightest touch.
“Must you go? Can’t you stay? Just for today—just for today, please stay by my lady’s side.”
A plea, raw and childish, poured from her lips like a waterfall.
“I beg you, Your Grace.”
Kalian studied the maid carefully.
Her large eyes, brimming with unshed tears, made it clear she would break down the moment he shook his head.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
“Did your mistress tell you to stop me from leaving?”
“N-no!”
The maid gasped, shaking her head frantically, her eyes wide with shock.
But that didn’t convince Kalian.
Even he struggled to handle Angela.
If Angela had ordered her to obey, what choice did this maid have?
She had no other option but to submit.
Kalian understood that well.
Especially given how young she was…
“Your mistress must be too much for you to handle.”
His voice was steady, as if he understood.
“If she ever raises the whip against you for failing to keep me here, run to my estate.”
The maid froze.
She said nothing.
Kalian took that as agreement and was about to turn away—
“Does even Count Florence not believe in Lady Angela?”
The unexpected words made Kalian stop in his tracks.
For the first time, his gaze toward the maid sharpened.
“My lady never gave me such an order. She never told me to stop Your Grace. And… she never told me to do anything bad to Lady Beatrice, either.”
“……”
“She never ordered anything… really, my lady never… never did anything w-wrong, but…”
Her trembling voice suddenly collapsed.
Tears broke free.
Kalian let out a quiet sigh.
He finally realized—this maid had been involved in today’s events.
“Mary, correct?”
Kalian crouched slightly to meet her at eye level.
“Hic… Y-yes… hhic, I-I’m Mary.”
“I told you—if your mistress ever raises the whip, come to my estate. So there’s no need to lie for her.”
Kalian’s words trailed off as he fell silent.
Because the look on Mary’s face was one of sheer despair.
It wasn’t an expression a child of her age should have been capable of making.
It reminded him—
Of himself, when he was a boy, standing on the battlefield with nothing but a shield, an easy target for enemy arrows.
Kalian realized something was terribly wrong.
—
“It was my mistake… It was my fault… But my lady…”
Mary, still struggling to hold back her sobs, told Kalian everything.
Not a single word was left out.
And through her tears, she desperately reassured him that she was telling the truth.
But to Kalian, her story sounded exaggerated—like a poorly crafted fiction.
His gaze drifted to the floor, his face blank with disbelief.
Angela Bilton was not the kind of woman to take punishment in place of a maid.
If anything, she was the type to throw the maid forward in her stead.
Angela, sacrificing herself for someone else?
Impossible.
Angela had always sneered at the idea of self-sacrifice.
When Yvonne had once tried to take punishment in Beatrice’s place, Angela had only been crueler and more vicious.
And yet—
Kalian couldn’t simply dismiss the maid’s words as nonsense.
Because he remembered another Angela.
A girl who only existed in distant memories.
A girl who had been so warm and kind that she could make even a frozen heart feel the warmth of spring.
—
“Can’t you stay by her side…? Just for today… no, even just for a little while… please, just a little while… can’t you?”
Mary’s voice trembled with desperate hope.
But it was unnecessary.
Even without her plea, Kalian couldn’t leave.
Not until he confirmed for himself whether the Angela in his memory still existed behind that door.
“Every word you just said had better be true.”
Kalian grasped Mary’s shoulder, his tone firm.
“If even a single lie was mixed in… my sword won’t spare even a child.”
Mary, her tear-stained eyes wide with fear, frantically nodded.
Only after seeing her resolute nod did Kalian finally shift his gaze to the tightly shut door.
Mary noticed.
And relief washed over her face.
At the very least, she had done one good thing for her lady today—after the horrible day she had caused her.
But—
When they finally opened the door—
Angela, who should have been relieved to see that Kalian had not left—
Was lying motionless among the wreckage of the objects she had thrown to the floor.
—
When Did I Fall Asleep…?
Angela woke from a sleep she didn’t even remember falling into.
Her eyelids, heavy as if weighed down by stones, barely lifted.
A pure, unbroken darkness greeted her like the sentinel of hell itself.
It wasn’t surprising.
She was used to this.
Even that damned light, twirling around her like a specter, as if taunting her, was nothing new.
“You…!”
Angela, supporting herself against a floor she wasn’t even sure existed, wobbled to her feet and reached toward the light—
A fierce movement, as if she would grab it by the collar.
But the light, which had seemed just within reach, slipped through her grasp.
Only the cold void remained in her clenched fingers.
Angela squeezed her fist tighter, her nails digging into her palm.
“Tsk, you still haven’t fixed that nasty temper.”
A voice, sharp enough to pierce her eardrums, clicked its tongue in disappointment.
“I keep getting these chest pains—what the hell do you expect me to do?!”
Angela snapped irritably, whipping her head around to follow the flickering movement of the light.
“You already know the answer.”
The light responded firmly.
Then, in an instant, it darted forward, stopping right in front of her.
A sudden and jarring proximity.
Angela inhaled sharply as she found herself face-to-face with that eyeless gaze.
How long did they stare at each other?
“You planted the seed. Now let it sprout. Let it bloom. Let it bear fruit.”
The light chanted like an incantation.
“If you want to live.”
And then—just as abruptly as it had appeared—it vanished.
Leaving only its warning, echoing in her skull:
“If you want to live.”
“If you want to live.”
“If you want to live.”
“If you don’t want to die.”
Angela clutched her head, gasping in agony.
She yanked at her golden hair, silky as spun gold, clawing at it mercilessly.
Even that wasn’t enough to bear the pain—
She must have collapsed, thrashing against the void in a desperate attempt to escape.
“—!”
When she suddenly opened her eyes, a familiar sight loomed above her.
A cherub with half-formed wings.
It was part of the grand fresco painted on the ceiling of her bedroom.
“—!”
Angela stared blankly at the lively brushstrokes of the cherub’s wings—
Then bolted upright.
She was awake.
Truly awake.
“Hah… Hah… Hah…”
Her chest heaved violently.
Like someone who had been strangled and finally released, she sucked in air desperately, starving for oxygen.
And yet—
Even as she gasped and gasped, she still couldn’t fill her lungs.
Until—
Click.
The sound of a door opening.
“A-ah, my lady!”
The clang of a basin crashing to the floor.
A young maid, running toward her in a panic.
And—
“Hnnn, uuuu, uaaaaaahhh!”
The maid burst into wailing sobs, her throat raw and exposed in an open cry.
Only then—
Only then did Angela finally feel calm.
Like a sea settling after a storm.
“Mary…”
She had meant to scold the girl—
To snap at her to stop that awful noise.
But no words came out.
“M-my lady, hhhhk, my lady, hwaaaaah!”
If it were any other kind of commotion—especially such a miserable, pathetic sobbing—Angela would have instinctively wrinkled her brows in annoyance.
But strangely, she didn’t.
This little thing had made her take the blame for something she didn’t do.
This little thing had the odd ability to make her act out of character.
Angela furrowed her brows.
Immediately, Mary panicked and asked if she was hurt.
Angela thought she looked utterly stupid—yet, for some reason, she couldn’t look away from her for a long time.
“Hic, my, my lady, hic.”
Mary’s hands, reaching out without permission, should have been slapped away.
But Angela let it slide.
—
Or perhaps… she shouldn’t have.
Angela stared at the still-crying Mary, debating it seriously.
It had been nearly an hour since she had woken up.
How much longer was she planning to cry?
Did her tears even have an end?
Angela had assumed the girl had already drained every ounce of moisture from her body—
Yet she kept crying.
At this point, it wasn’t just irritating.
It was fascinating.
She had sobbed about how much she had panicked when she found Angela collapsed.
Then she had cried again about how worried she had been while Angela remained unconscious for days.
Then she had cried once more about how relieved she was now that Angela had woken up.
Angela was on the verge of drowning in Mary’s tears.
Finally, her patience wore thin.
She could no longer wait for Mary’s eyes to dry on their own.
“Mary.”
At the same time, Mary spoke as well.
“His Grace, the Count—hic.”
Mary hiccupped, gulping down her sobs before continuing, her words broken and uneven.
“His Grace, the Count, stayed… hic… he stayed for a long time.”
“The Count?”
Angela had been about to tell her to get out if she wouldn’t stop crying—
But she forgot what she was going to say.
“Yes, your fiancé—Count Florence.”
“Kalian…?”
Angela blinked, skeptical at the unexpected name.
Mary nodded fervently.
“Yes, yes! His Grace was… hic… very worried… hic… so, so worried.”
The words tumbled out through Mary’s sniffles.
Angela’s lips twitched.
If not for the Emperor’s sudden summons, Kalian would have been there when she woke up.
For the first time since waking, Angela actually liked what she was hearing.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
