“I’ve always had a vague feeling that the late Duke’s death wasn’t an accident. Raphel, the sole survivor, was found far away from the accident site. But after experiencing today’s attack, I’m now certain. For some reason, someone bears a grudge against Halos.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yes. If someone deliberately targeted the House of Halos and made it look like an accident, they wouldn’t stop at just one attempt. Although I didn’t expect an attack like today’s, I did think they would try to target Raphel and you in some way.”
Lizelle fully understood why Chase couldn’t help but be suspicious of her.
She would have been the same if their roles were reversed.
But she couldn’t tell him she knew about the assassination attempts and poison plots from reading the original story.
In the end, Lizelle crafted a plausible explanation to avoid him misunderstanding.
Chase, who had been silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, nodded at last.
Relieved to have resolved the misunderstanding, Lizelle let out a short sigh before falling into her own thoughts.
The real problem was that the information from the original story was no longer of much help to her.
With events unfolding earlier than expected, she couldn’t predict the future anymore. And since she hadn’t read the later parts, she didn’t know who the culprit was. They could be a random citizen passing by.
It was incredibly frustrating.
If she knew more, she might have been able to help Raphel and Chase, even a little.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
Lizelle said dejectedly, lowering her gaze.
Her decision to accept the contract marriage hadn’t been only for the reward. She also wanted to use her knowledge to help Raphel.
But in reality, her knowledge wasn’t helping at all.
Realizing this, she felt ashamed for arrogantly inserting herself into the lives of the story’s main characters.
“Why are you apologizing?”
Chase asked, his tone sincere as he cast aside his earlier doubts.
“This is their wrongdoing. Neither you nor I have anything to apologize for.”
He echoed the words she spoke to him earlier in the carriage.
Just as she said, the ones at fault were those responsible.
Neither she nor he had any reason to apologize.
“…”
Recognizing the familiar line, Lizelle slowly lifted her gaze to meet Chase’s.
He was smiling faintly.
To think he would reuse her own words like this.
Lizelle couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
A cold breeze swept past, ruffling their clothes.
For some reason, the moment felt slower than usual, as if time briefly paused.
Dismissing it as her imagination, she looked at his injured hand.
“Make sure to disinfect your hand regularly.”
Through the bandages, she could see faint traces of blood.
It seemed the blood had transferred to his jacket without anyone noticing.
As Lizelle glanced worriedly at Chase, she suddenly blushed as she remembered her own actions of lifting his shirt to check for injuries.
“Ahem! It’s getting late. Raphel must be tired, so you should go back now.”
She cleared her throat and stepped back, the image of his defined abs lingering in her mind.
“I’ll send a designer to your residence tomorrow. We’ll need to make your dress.”
If all had gone according to plan, he would have gone to the boutique with Lizelle tomorrow to get a dress fitted for the wedding.
However, since he did not know when or where an attack could occur, he regretfully decided to refrain from going out for the time being and decided to send the designer to the Baron’s estate instead.
“All right. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Chase climbed back into the carriage and the door closed, the wheels began to turn.
“Lizelle!”
Raphel peeked his head out of the window, waving energetically.
Lizelle waved back with equal enthusiasm. She kept waving until the carriage disappeared from view, then turned and walked into the estate, where knights from the Duke’s household were stationed everywhere.
That day had been unusually long, and as soon as she entered her room, Lizelle collapsed onto her bed and fell into a deep sleep.
The next day.
As the day dawned, Lizelle could not help but be thankful that she slept well the night before.
Because it was the start of a difficult day.
* * *
That night.
“Your Grace, this is the place.”
Following the knight, Chase arrived at a location where dozens of knights stood surrounding an entrance, holding torches.
Chase looked toward the place the knight was pointing.
It took less than half a day to locate their base after noticing the spider emblem engraved on the wrists of the corpses.
The base was tucked away deep within a forest, hidden from human traffic.
But everything was already been burned to the ground.
The base, from which acrid smoke was rising, had embers that had not yet been completely extinguished.
“The guild’s name is Tarantula. It’s a newly established guild that hasn’t been around for long.”
“They set fire to it intentionally.”
It was clear they destroyed the base entirely, knowing it would be discovered.
Chase descended the steps into the burned ruins, his eyes cold.
Then, something crunched underfoot within the pile of rubble.
Without hesitation, he picked up something blue from among the ashes.
“A sapphire?”
A sapphire lay on the stairs leading down to the basement.
It was charred and covered in soot, yet unmistakably a sapphire.
He took the sapphire with him, thinking it might hold a clue.
“Search the area. Report anything suspicious immediately.”
At Chase’s command, the knights began scouring the ruins. Meanwhile, a pair of red eyes watching them from a distance quietly disappeared into the shadows.
* * *
The next day.
Birdsong filled the air, but Lizelle couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
The sunlight streaming through the window stung her closed eyes, but instead of getting up, she lazily draped her arm over her face.
She was stalling.
The fatigue from walking around all day yesterday was one thing, but the mental exhaustion made her body feel especially heavy.
Pulling the blanket over her head, she resolved to sleep just a little longer.
“Lizelle, are you awake?”
Her mother’s voice forced her to open her eyes.
“Yes…”
Her voice, thick with sleep, was muffled and hoarse.
She cleared her throat with a few coughs and barely managed to raise her heavy body.
“You have a guest waiting.”
“A guest? Oh… I’ll get ready and come down.”
It must be the designer Chase mentioned.
She went into the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth quickly and came out.
Afterward, she combed her messy hair by herself.
She’d tossed and turned so much during the long night that even a comb couldn’t do anything to tame it.
She had no choice but to tie her hair into a ponytail and change into casual clothes.
Since she iss going to get a dress tailored, it would be better to wear something that would make it easier for the designer to take her measurements.
After completing all the preparations, Lizelle skipped breakfast and headed to the reception room where the guest was waiting.
But she soon regretted her decision.
She thought she could just have lunch after the fitting, but that was a huge mistake.
As she entered the room, she locked eyes with a woman who was setting down a teacup.
The middle-aged woman was wearing an overly ornate dress and had her hair done up in an excessively voluminous way.
Even the red dress made of velvet gave off an oppressive vibe.
She was no ordinary person.
“I’m Wilhazelle Frosier.”
“Then you must be the fiancée of His Grace the Duke.”
The woman stood up from her seat with a big smile.
Before Lizelle could approach, the woman rushed over to her and began circling her.
“Perfect! Look at this elegance and magnificence!”
“Pardon?”
“You have a divine figure! Absolutely flawless! Oh-ho-ho!”
The woman’s eyes sparkled so brightly it was almost intimidating.
“Oh, where are my manners? I got carried away after meeting such a perfect model for the first time in ages. I’m Eclaire Morais. You can just call me Claire.”
Eclaire Morais.
It was a name Lizelle never heard before.
She guessed the woman started her career as a designer after Lizelle’s possession of this body.
If she’d been famous earlier, Wilhazelle, who adored luxury and trends, would certainly have known about her.
Wilhazelle sat down and Claire began discussing dress designs with enthusiasm.
While Lizelle had no strong preferences, Claire presented dozens of dress sketches, each more intricate than the last.
“Do you see anything you like, or do you have a particular design in mind, my lady?”
“I prefer something simple and un-flashy.”
Since flashy styles weren’t to her taste, Lizelle wanted something as modest as possible.
“A simple dress, you say… How about this one?”
Claire confidently handed over a sketch.
“This is… simple?”
Lizelle was stunned as she looked at the design.
