Chapter 86
At the attendant’s words, Fernand quickened his pace toward the main keep.
It had only been a week since Yulia drank the holy water. Calrosa had clearly stated she wouldn’t wake for at least that long.
Her recovery was faster than expected—even her awakening had come sooner.
Crossing the lobby in long strides, he took the stairs two at a time and entered the hallway leading to the bedchamber.
The attendant standing guard at the door spotted him and hastily opened it.
Fernand brushed past and stepped inside.
There, sitting propped against the headboard, was Yulia.
“……”
At his entrance, she slowly lifted her gaze, blinking languidly.
Her pale blue eyes met his. Fernand swallowed thickly as he approached.
Yulia’s expression was dazed. Yet, as he drew nearer, confusion flickered in her gaze.
Silently, Fernand assessed her condition.
Thanks to Calrosa’s anesthesia, she showed no signs of pain or discomfort.
The pallor of her skin had also noticeably improved.
Relief washed over him before he steeled himself and met her eyes directly.
When their gazes locked, Yulia’s wavered faintly.
Before he could speak, her lips parted first.
“I…”
Her whisper was hesitant as she clutched the blanket draped over her.
Biting her lip, she fidgeted with her fingers restlessly.
Whether from lost memories or sheer bewilderment, she seemed disoriented—particularly by Fernand’s presence.
As he struggled to explain, her soft voice broke the silence again.
“…Your Highness.”
The title, murmured so naturally, made his eyes widen.
“…Why am I in Your Highness’s bedchamber?”
Her next question froze him entirely.
The way she addressed him. The fact she recognized this as his room.
All of it pointed to one truth: Yulia hadn’t lost her memories.
Caught off guard, Fernand exhaled sharply—as though releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Some part of him had braced for her not recognizing him at all.
Yulia, misreading his silence, shrank slightly.
“I-I’m sorry. Did I… mistake the room in my sleep…?”
Fernand slowly lifted his gaze, his brow furrowing.
“What are you—”
Before he could finish, she tensed, as if bracing for his anger.
Her shoulders hunched; her eyes darted away.
Watching her, Fernand pieced together the situation.
The fact she recognized him meant her memories weren’t entirely gone.
But her earlier words—mistaking the room—
Steadying his voice, he asked, “Yulia, do you remember collapsing at all?”
“Huh?”
Her eyes rounded as she stared at him.
Glancing down at herself, she murmured, “Collapsing? I don’t remember…”
Her tone was utterly lost.
A hollow feeling settled in Fernand’s chest as he pressed further.
“Then… what’s the last thing you recall?”
It was clear she hadn’t lost everything. But her memories were incomplete.
The critical question now was: How much did she remember?
Still visibly confused, Yulia hesitated before answering.
“Earlier today… Father visited the estate.”
“……”
“I’d just seen him off when he left to meet with you…”
Trailing off, she tilted her head, sensing something amiss.
After a pause, she added uncertainly, “Then… I must’ve fallen asleep after that…?”
Her voice trailed into silence.
Fernand’s hands clenched slowly.
If she remembered the Marquis’s visit, she was recalling a time early in their marriage.
Meaning she’d forgotten everything that came after.
He didn’t know what expression to make as he watched her.
Finally, he forced out his next question.
“…How long has it been since we married?”
Tension laced his grip.
Baffled, Yulia answered obediently.
“It’s only been… three months.”
“…Three months.”
Echoing her words, Fernand inhaled shakily.
Three months into the marriage.
Far earlier than he’d anticipated. Her memories had reset to their newlywed days.
Rubbing his temples, he suppressed his turmoil.
When he stayed silent, Yulia peeked at him nervously.
“…Thank you,” she whispered. “For bringing me here.”
Fernand’s gaze snapped up.
Even without context, her gratitude came effortlessly—familiar yet foreign.
This wasn’t the hollow stare she’d last given him before collapsing.
This was the Yulia from before—the one whose eyes had always shone, no matter how he’d pushed her away.
Of all the scenarios he’d prepared for, this hadn’t been among them.
He’d braced for her either forgetting him entirely or hating him to the end.
Never had he imagined she’d look at him with the same eyes as before.
Fidgeting under his silence, Yulia wrung her hands.
“You should rest more,” he said at last.
Before explaining, he needed to consult Calrosa.
To determine if her memories were truly lost—or if there was a way to recover them.
As he turned to leave, Yulia scrambled unsteadily to her feet.
“I-I’ll return to my room—”
Her legs buckled the moment they touched the floor.
Fernand caught her arm before she could fall.
“Stay here. It’s fine.”
His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.
Yulia blinked up at him, startled.
This version of Fernand—gentle, almost tender—was utterly unfamiliar.
Just as he was unprepared for this situation, she too sensed something was off.
The cold, detached husband she knew now looked at her with emotions she couldn’t name.
Guiding her back to the bed, Fernand studied her a moment longer before turning away.
Yulia could only stare, spellbound, as he left.
“Her memories reverted to two years ago, you say?”
At the end of the hallway, Calrosa’s murmur was pensive.
After a pause, he continued, “It’s not entirely unexpected. Her recovery was remarkably swift.”
Normally, the holy water would disperse through the bloodstream, bypassing the brain’s memory centers.
But Yulia’s accelerated healing might’ve allowed traces to reach those regions—partially reviving her past recollections.
“Could her full memories return?” Fernand asked evenly.
Calrosa shrugged. “No guarantees. But it’s possible. Continuing controlled doses may help.”
If some memories had resurfaced, others might follow.
Though overuse was dangerous, careful monitoring could mitigate risks.
Abruptly, Calrosa changed topics.
“Have you explained the situation to her?”
Fernand’s silence was answer enough.
Yulia remained unaware of the two-year gap in her memory.
But she’d notice soon—whether through the changed seasons or the castle’s altered atmosphere.
