I Healed my Husband, the Leader of the Underworld

“Ah.”

 

Jane finally realized I was standing next to her and turned her head to look at me.

 

“Milena.”

 

Her face, which had looked like a pretty doll’s face with only the shell remaining, finally showed some expression.

 

“I didn’t realize you were there. I was just lost in thought for a moment.”

 

She gave me her usual smile, but somehow, I could read a shadow of sadness in that smile.

 

Somehow, she looked particularly lonely.

 

She seemed desolate, but I tried not to be aware of that fact.

 

Remembering that she had been staring blankly at the garden, I said,

 

“The gardener said that the swan had laid eggs. …Have their numbers increased?”

 

Jane blinked with eyes full of curiosity and said:

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes. You might be able to see it from here.”

 

Jane glanced outside briefly and then smiled at me.

 

“I almost didn’t know.”

 

I nodded, “Yes, you almost didn’t.”

 

Jane smiled slightly again at my words.

 

“It’s somewhat comforting to know that the scenery I thought was a fixed picture has changed.”

 

Then, she seemed momentarily worried that the conversation might have sounded too serious. Jane didn’t like talking about sad things.

 

Hugging her knees even tighter, she looked like a piece of fine art.

 

“Are baby swans cute? The girl asked cautiously, and I answered as if it was no big deal.

 

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any up close yet.”

 

Her face brightened a bit more at my words.

 

“Then shall we go see them together sometime?” she asked energetically.

 

“Sure, but don’t get your hopes up too much.”

 

“…Why?”

 

A dark shadow briefly passed over her innocent face.

 

“In fairy tales, they always say baby swans are ugly.”

 

At my ridiculous answer, Jane let out a small laugh, and when our eyes met, we both burst out laughing for no reason.

 

The sunlight cast a shadow on the window frame and poured down on us, and after laughing for a while, Jane and I locked eyes again.

 

Jane remained silent, and so did I.

 

Although only a few minutes had passed, the sunlight that had been pouring in through the window began to fade, casting a shadow on her face. Even though the shadow of the sunlight’s afterimage covered us, her eyes still sparkled.

 

It was then that Jane opened her mouth.

 

“…Milena, you seem to have a really good father.”

 

I almost mentioned how good a mother she once had but decided against it. People must have tried to comfort her sadness many times already.

 

Considering that she was the sister of an influential noble, it was likely that those comforting her were eloquent and persuasive in their words.

 

“He’s a good man.”

 

So, I decided to talk about Milena’s father instead of her absent father or the lade old lady.

 

I kept it light.

 

“Though I didn’t realize it well at first.”

 

At those words, Jane looked at me with curiosity, like a cat perking up its ears.

 

“He was always busy with business trips. He gave me everything, except for the one thing that mattered the most… time.”

 

I understand the complexities and challenges that adults face though; I said inwardly.

 

The girl next to me was an innocent young woman, only nineteen years old, and I believed she might not understand such things. About grown-ups or the complexities of the world.

 

“Your father probably loved you very much too, Jane,” I said. “Even if he didn’t give you the most important thing….”

 

Then I pulled out the leather sketchbook I’d been holding and flipped through the pages.

 

It was merely an observation, but I saw how Jane had shown great interest in how much Milena was loved as a child at the dinner table.

 

[Brother, you told me that day that families should take care of each other. What’s left….] Jane’s words echoed in my mind.

 

There were only the three of them now.

 

I suspected that she might have been referring to Victor Roam, the former Duke who had left Roam, a topic taboo in here.

 

Jane’s gaze confusedly wandered over the drawings. And my hand, flipping rapidly through the pages, finally stopped at the face of a certain man.

 

“This….”

 

Jane hesitated as she scanned the drawing, slowly taking it in her hands; her fingers fumbling over Siegfried’s signature.

 

Her parted lips closed.

 

“I thought you might need it.”

 

Jane looked at me and then at the sketch, her gaze lingering for a while. She wore a rare, bitter smile.

 

“What kind of person was he?” I asked as if I didn’t know anything about the taboo name beneath the drawing, Victor Roam.

 

“…My father’s name was Victor Roam,” Jane continued with a vacant look, as if reminiscing. “And when he left Roam, I was only eight years old.”

 

It was surreal. In every portrait in this mansion, Victor Roam’s face was covered up, and his story was kept as secretively as his face. From the butler to the servants, everyone in here acted as if the man never existed.

 

Even in situations where he would inevitably have to be brought up, they deliberately excluded Victor Roam from the conversation. But now, for the first time, his story was coming out of Jane’s mouth.

 

“Sometimes, I would quietly go to my father’s room while he was sleeping and search his pockets, hoping to find candy or something. However, every time, I would find crumpled cards with strange drawings on them instead. When I took them to my brother, he would frown, tear them up, and throw them away.”

 

Jane description of Victor Roam was as detailed as this drawing.

 

“He was someone who always smelled like strong alcohol, or perfume that irritated the nose, or even strong medicine. Sometimes… he would come back to the mansion and hug my mother, calling her by someone else’s name. But on my eighth birthday, my father came home clean. Completely.”

 

Her green eyes scanned Victor’s face.

 

“That day, he didn’t act strange. He held my mother’s hand and said he would do well. That he would really do well. He wore a spotless white shirt, a wrinkle-free vest, and a navy jacket. His handkerchief was red. He stayed home for an entire  week, and it was enough time for my brother to lower his guard and take a step closer to our father,” She murmured. “He hovered around my brother, trying to regain the place you had lost, always asking what he was drawing. But one day, when I secretly peeked into my brother’s room, I saw him drawing Father. It was just before nightfall. A long shadow stretched long beside the chair where my brother was sitting, and for the first time father was smiling brightly. Very brightly.”

 

A single, clear tear rolled down From Jane’s eye.

 

“But now that I look back, Father wasn’t genuinely smiling.”

 

She stared at the drawing for a long time, her laughter sharp yet faint, revealing what she felt.

 

“…That was a farewell.”

 

“Dolores,” I whispered painfully.

 

“Perhaps my brother realized it too, that it was a goodbye. So, maybe… that’s why he agreed to draw Father back then. I don’t know….” She hummed. “But on that day, my father left Roam and never returned.”

 

It occurred to me that perhaps, as Jane had said, that Siegfried, knowing the time to say goodbye, agreed to preserve his father’s final image at the man’s request.

 

The emotion I read from this drawing this morning was the sadness and remorse of the smiling man in the canvas.

 

Jane continued to stare at Victor, her eyes radiating an indescribable emotion.

 

“Milena.”

 

Then she leaned toward me and spoke with a teary voice.

 

“I do not know what I will do if you leave me too…”

 

“Jane….” I said, locking eyes with her. Her eyes, meeting my crimson ones. “I will not leave. I promise.”

 

“…… ”

 

“Instead, will you help me?”

 

Only then did I reveal my true purpose. And Jane nodded resolutely with a determined face, willing to do anything.

***

 

 

It is a good thing, I thought, that Lancel knew the Roam Manor’s layout by heart.

 

That Jane agreed to cooperate with me.

 

At last, the preparations for me to sneak out were mostly done.

 

It is just a quick trip out to see Ershayne.

 

Today, I planned to meet Ershayne, and reassure him.

 

I first believed that the conversation we had at the ball was enough, but if I were to suddenly call him into my newly built studio, he would become suspicious of my intentions. Taking Jane along was in hope to break down the defenses he’s set up around himself.

 

Luckily, Jane agreed to help in that regard.

 

In the process, I could also familiarize myself with the way out of Roam. If I wanted to leave this place when the time came, I had to have a solid foundation. In this way, I could calmly prepare for when Siegfried would abandon me.

 

I thought I would feel good about making such plans.

 

But strangely enough, I could not get Victor Roam’s drawing out of my head.

 

[Family should cherish each other. Now, there are only three of us left….]

 

And these words kept ringing in my head.

 

Wanting to stop thinking about what Siegfried had been through. I opened the door, determined not to waste my sympathy on a predator.

 

But then….

 

I blinked, unsure where the well-shaped bridge of my nose had landed. Seconds later, familiar arms were wrapped around me.

 

Lifting my head at the familiar scent, I saw a handsome face.

 

“Did you call me honey?”

 

Siegfried asked with a gorgeous smile.

 

“…In front of everyone.”

 

In a rare moment, his jokingly curved eyes showed pure joy.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

The touch of his jacket against my cheek was cool, yet he showed no sign of anger. Like moments ago, at dinner, he focused his attention on me, and this tenderness felt so incredibly unfamiliar.

 

His gentle fingers brushed my hair to the side. His touch was extremely cautious and slow. A few beads of sweat had formed on the nape of my neck, exposed to the chilly air. And as his thumb slowly stroked my pale skin, my body trembled.

 

“Ugh….”

 

Then, he pressed his skin against mine, and a sharp pain pierced my brain.

 

“So, this is why you let your hair down. What a shame,” he chuckled softly.

 

It was a soft, low-pitch voice that only I could hear. For a moment, he trailed his finger over the mark he had left on my body yesterday, then stopped.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

His fingers lifted my chin.

 

His gaze lingered on my lips for a long time.

 

Feeling self-conscious, I bit my lower before quickly releasing it, which caused his perfect eyebrows to furrow.

 

As I turned my eyes to the ground, avoiding the eye contact from earlier, he leaned down, and whispered in my ear.

 

“… Are you not going to see me off?”