I Healed my Husband, the Leader of the Underworld

If my life was a comedy as people say, then perhaps my prince would be Siegfried, watching me intently from among the crowd. But if my life were to follow Milena’s tragic storyline, maybe my prince would be the one trying to save the princess here.

 

I didn’t think either one was the right answer.

 

I was afraid of Siegfried, and it seemed to me that Rochester couldn’t compete with Roam.

 

What should I say?

 

I thought for a moment about what the real Milena Rochester would say, and then….

 

“Eldest Brother.”

 

Bartholomew looked surprised.

 

This was a disaster.

 

Apparently, Milena had been on familiar terms with Bartholomew, so it was needless for me to maintain such formalities, but it didn’t matter anymore at this point.

 

I might as well let him think that Roam had turned me into this.

 

“Have you not seen this crown?” I said in the sharpest tone I could manage.

 

“I am the queen of Roam,” I declared, drawing a line between us.

 

At this, Bartholomew looked down at me with a hollow face, as if it would collapse at any moment.

 

“Is there anyone else in this place as happy as I am?”

 

I regretted having to drive a nail into the heart of Milena’s family, but I willingly chose to play the villain.

 

Then, the man said,

 

“Your unhappiness,”

 

“..…”

 

“It’s my responsibility.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It was my duty to replace our mother, and take care of you. I should have stopped this marriage by any means necessary….”

 

I thought it would be just my family. A being who gives up everything and only takes responsibility for mistakes.

 

I scanned his face, unable to find anything to say.

 

If I were to run away, throwing everything aside, Rochester would be an obstacle.

 

I have already thought about this.

 

However, the being I thought might just be an annoyance was now pressing heavily on my heart.

 

And that weight was called guilt.

 

What would the original Milena think if Rochester faced danger because I had run away…

 

I decided not to think too deeply about it.

 

“Alright, let’s say it’s your responsibility, brother,” I answered crisply, looking into his eyes. “But even so…”

 

I reached out and tightly grasped the hand of the man who was bowing his head deeply.

 

His red eyes finally turned towards me.

 

“…You shouldn’t teach me to run away whenever things get difficult.”

 

“……”

 

“I’m no longer nineteen, brother.” I spoke with conviction, maintaining eye contact with him.

 

“If there comes a time when I walk out of here, it will be on my own accord, and when I want to.”

 

“…..”

 

“It will be when my husband no longer needs… or loves me.”

 

“You really…”

 

“No.”

 

Thinking that Bartholomew was going to ask if I still loved Siegfried, I quickly cut him off.

 

“It will be less damaging for Rochester if the husband is the one asking for a divorce.”

 

“……”

 

“That’s the responsibility I’m willing to bear for the first choices I made as an adult. Whatever decision I make from now on will be what I think is rational.”

 

For some reason, Bartholomew looked as if he had been hit on the head.

 

***

 

After the ball ended, I entered Jane’s room and sat on the bed watching her fall asleep with flushed cheeks.

 

She praised Bartholomew for being such a wonderful partner. Of course, it didn’t seem like she had truly fallen for my brother. Apparently having Siegfried Roam as a brother made it difficult to fall in love with someone else.

 

But she firmly held my hand and said affectionately,

 

“If I become Mrs. Rochester, we’ll become a closer family, won’t we?”

 

It appeared to be the kind of affection she often showed to those she truly cared about.

 

“Sir Bartholomew seems really concerned about you,” she observed, her green eyes scanning me.

 

“Like my brother, he’s probably overprotective, isn’t he? Or maybe…”

 

Her playful smile faded slightly as she furrowed her brows and continued,

 

“Does Milena really have to leave this place?”

 

I couldn’t bring myself to promise her that I wouldn’t leave so I just said, “Go to sleep,” as I stroked her hair, which only prompted her to sit up abruptly and stare at me.

 

“Milena!”

 

She grabbed my arm and called out to me. I gently caressed her hand, instilling a healing warmth.

 

Her green eyes wavered.

 

Then she murmured softly, “I know, my brother can be a bit harsh. But to those who aren’t family, he’s a little…”

 

She bowed her head deeply.

 

Seeing her like this, Jane really looked like an innocent girl. Being accustomed to Roam, she found the sight of blood on Lancel’s forehead more shocking than the deaths of ‘practice’ soldiers brought home by my husband.

 

Her sensitivity was rich enough to mourn the death of a butler, yet not so profound as to affect her deeply for long.

 

“Don’t worry.”

 

“..…”

 

“Roam is my home.” I reassured her in a soothing tone.

 

And finally, with a relieved expression, she hugged me tightly.

 

And as she did…

 

You are the queen of Roam.

 

I thought about those words once again.

 

“But.. ” Jane said, looking at me, “you liked that painter’s work, didn’t you?”

 

Her innocent eyes captured mine, seemingly referring to Ershayne, painting at the railing.

 

Clutching my hand, she continued, “You also wanted to help him out. I heard everything in the ballroom.”

 

Then while slightly blushing, Jane spoke in a secretive tone, “I know that Milena only likes that person’s painting. If you had actually  liked “him,” you wouldn’t have spoken to him.”

 

She was truly sharp in moments like this.

 

“So shall we help him out?” the young girl suggested eagerly.

 

“Let’s pretend that I’ve fallen for him. And then, you can freely have as many of your favorite paintings as you want.”

 

She was so earnest.

 

“Thank you, Jane,” I gave her a quick thank you.

 

Jane firmly held my hand and said, “Of course.”

 

“..…”

 

“We are family.”

 

She smiled broadly as if the word ‘family’ held something very special.

 

Then she whispered, “I’m the one who’s always thankful,” though it was barely audible.

 

We are family; I repeated to myself.

 

But I didn’t have the courage to ask her what would happen if we stopped being family.

 

***

 

“You’re not going out today,” I said after finding an unexpected person in the bedroom.

 

But feeling as if my remark might seem like a hint for him to leave, I quickly added:

 

“It’s unexpected.”

 

My gaze then fell on something on Siegfried’s lap. Seated on the bed, he tapped the space beside him, and I walked over and sat next to him.

 

What lay on Siegfried’s lap looked like a bundle of old leather-covered papers. I looked at him, then at the stack of papers, and he quietly flipped through the covers.

 

Under the dim light of a distant candlestick, what was revealed looked like sketches… delicately hand-drawn sketches.

 

I looked at him again, then at the paper he showed me. Then, after a long moment of staring at the drawing, he began to speak.

 

“I made these when I was young,” he said, his hand gently caressing the bundle of papers as if it held something precious.

 

It was rare for him to initiate sharing about himself, so I found it unexpected and engaged in the conversation.

 

“They look quite old.”

 

“They might be from around the time I used to play the piano,” he speculated.

 

“You drew these well.”

 

I took the sketchbook from him, carefully flipping through each drawing he had made. His rough hands seemed at odds with the delicacy of the sketches, which made me linger longer on the images.

 

“That’s probably why they’ve lasted until now. I put a lot of effort into this hobby back then.”

 

My hand stopped on a particular page as I flipped through the papers.

 

Roughly drawn in charcoal was the face of a middle-aged man.

 

He had a notably handsome appearance and would have made an impressive model. I studied the man’s face closely. Now that I think about it, this smile seemed to resemble someone else

 

Someone…

 

My gaze shifted from the paper to Siegfried’s face.

 

He looked contemplative as he scanned his father’s face on the paper and said,

 

“This must be the last remaining image of him in this mansion.”

 

“Who…”

 

“My father.”

 

He explained that his father hadn’t been a particularly good family head, then let out a bitter laugh and urged me to look at something else, prompting me to turn the page.  He thought the sight was very unfamiliar now.

 

“These are beautiful drawings,” I said, changing the subject as I flipped the paper.

 

“Do you keep everything you drew?”

 

“No,” he replied, pausing as if remembering something. “But I just thought of a trivial reason to not throw these away. Looking back, it’s really a pointless reason.”

 

He further added that he no longer drew.

 

“Other than what’s hanging on the wall, this is all I have in terms of drawings,” he said with a low chuckle as he stroked my head. “If they aren’t to your liking, shall I create a gallery for you?”

 

His words made my eyes widen.

 

My own gallery?

 

Although I knew in my head that he had the means to do it, the way I lived during my very ordinary past life made me react strongly to the concept of having my own  building.

 

“I could also build you an atelier.”

 

“……”

 

“I’ll give you the money, so do as you like. Whether you want to paint yourself or foster other artists.”

 

“Do you like it?” he whispered in a low voice in my ear.

 

I couldn’t deny it. It was the perfect excuse to go and help Ershayne. I had believed Jane would be the best way to help him, but this was an unexpected stroke of luck.

 

The thought of building an atelier and nurturing Ershayne there filled my heart with excitement. My heart beat even faster because I felt responsible for the man’s misfortune, which had been prolonged by my choices.

 

“If I had known you’d take such an interest in paintings, I would have developed my skills to be more useful,” he remarked.

 

“…..”

 

“Tell me if there’s anything else you want in the future.”

 

He then pulled me into his embrace and said, “You’ve done well,” as he stroked my back. “No injuries today.”

 

I nodded as he reminded me of something I already knew.

 

“I’m not saying it’s because I need your treatment.”

 

He gently laid me down on the bed and then lay down beside me.

 

when I started to wonder why he positioned me in a way that I couldn’t see his face, he began to remove the pins stuck in my hair, one by one.

 

He carefully brushed through my loosened hair with his fingers and wrapped his arm around my waist. Then, he buried his nose in my nape and took a deep breath.

 

Up to this point, everything was as usual.

 

“Milena,” he called my name.

 

I nodded, and he told me, “Sleep well.”

 

His usual nightly farewell was quickly reciprocated.

 

However, as I was about to close my eyes, enjoying the scent of soap coming from him and his hand gently touching the tip of my damp hair, he called my name again.

 

“Milena.”

 

I  responded, just as my eyes were fluttering shut.

 

“…Do you want to leave Roam?”

 

His voice was still soft, but the unexpected question made me snap my eyes open.