IDHGA 03

Chapter 03

Drip, drop—the sound of water falling.

No, perhaps it was the sound of blood dripping.

I remember sitting in the bathtub with my wrist deeply cut, blankly watching the drops of blood fall.

I remember closing my eyes, leaving my fading consciousness behind.

*So this is how I die,* I thought, feeling the strength slowly leave my body—until at some point, I felt my vision grow bright.

And then, as if someone were standing beside me, a low voice struck my ear.

*”It’s all because the Duke is incompetent. I said I wanted her, I never said I had her.”*

*”Can you really say that’s my fault? Wasn’t it Your Highness who threatened the Margrave of the Border to pressure her?”*

*”That’s simply because the Margrave is too loyal.”*

*”You certainly know how to dodge responsibility, don’t you? Why not just say it’s Rose’s fault instead?”*

It was Asiard and the Crown Prince.

Asiard, his face haggard, snapping back at the Crown Prince—and that detestable Crown Prince, hiding his discomfort and responding with forced nonchalance.

I was certain I had my eyes closed, yet for some reason, I felt as if I were watching that scene.

…Had he fought for me?

Even in my daze, a faint longing seemed to spread through me.

But this was Asiard, who had grown utterly indifferent after our relationship fell apart.

If so, was this my dream?

That strangely wavering image soon transformed into another.

*”To go this far just to sell off your only daughter… I hope you’re satisfied now.”*

*”…I only did what I had to do.”*

*”What you had to do? You mean pushing your daughter into a den of beasts?”*

*”…That was her choice, Duke.”*

*”So you’re making excuses to the very end, Count. How pitiful that poor Rose, who believed in you as her father.”*

Asiard, even thinner than before, and my father.

With sunken eyes burning with hatred, he was berating my father, who hung his head.

From the way he said *I’m dead*, was this after my death?

So I really am dreaming right now?

The scene changed once more—this time to nobles whose faces I recognized but names I didn’t know, gathered at some banquet or tea party, whispering among themselves.

*”I heard the Duke had another spat with His Highness the Crown Prince?”*

*”I wouldn’t exactly call it a spat. His Highness is just unilaterally taking his anger out on the Ducal House.”*

*”The Ducal House isn’t exactly weak, though. Don’t they counter every attack thrown at them? I heard Harriet and Linerus had to step in and mediate just recently.”*

*”This is serious. The Duchess died without an heir, and now even the Duke is acting like this…”*

*”I’m worried the collateral branches might start making their move. Still, it’s such a prestigious house…”*

He fought with the Crown Prince?

Without thinking, I thrashed my arm.

Perhaps I thought I could grasp that scene.

Was it my imagination that as the scenes kept changing, I felt more and more like I was watching everything from his side?

My unconscious movement caused the scene to vanish, and once again, Asiard appeared.

The large room was filled with enormous liquor bottles everywhere.

No proper meal was laid out, nor was anyone beside him.

He sat slumped in a chair, gripping a bottle in his hand.

*”…Rose, did you resent me that much? Me, who could only run away and never protect you until the end?”*

A small, fluttering voice echoed in my ear.

A voice that sounded like it might break at any moment, so faint it would disappear if I didn’t listen closely.

*”I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I was wrong… I should have, I should have protected you more…”*

The voice continued, as if it might fade at any moment.

At that exhausted voice, I covered my mouth with both hands.

*”Because I couldn’t trust your love… because something I thought could never happen in my life came so easily… No, it’s all excuses. I should have believed in you. I, I just couldn’t…”*

*No,* I wanted to say, *that’s not it, I’m sorry for leaving you alone…*

I had so much to say, but all that came out were choked sobs.

His bitter voice and my tears intertwined above that hazy scene, rising, rising, slowly fading away.

*”I love you, Rose. I’ll see you soon…”*

Crack—the sound of glass shattering was clear.

No, perhaps it was the sound of him drawing his sword?

I saw him take out a suspicious-looking bottle and pour its contents into his mouth.

What? What are you doing right now?

What are you drinking right now?

*See you soon*—what, what exactly are you trying to do?

No, no. Don’t do it. Please, darling.

Asiard, no, no!

**”No!”**

Gasping, I bolted upright.

I must have moved so violently that I nearly rolled off the bed.

Bed? I’m lying on a bed?

Warmth and a soft embrace enveloped me.

Wait—wasn’t I… dead?

Instinctively, I felt my body.

I had definitely slit my wrist before I died—definitely…? I looked down, and there was not a single mark on my wrist.

This wasn’t the dried-up body that had withered away, trapped in the suffocating loneliness day after day. My skin was firm and smooth, unblemished, and without any wounds, there was no pain.

Except for one thing—a faint ache when I pressed gently on my wrist.

Fumbling over my wrist, I kept touching my hand, the back of my hand, my arm, examining my body.

*’Why is it only this spot? Is it… the trace of when I gave up on life?’*

Was it the mark of the day I gave up on life?

As vivid as if it had just happened, yet now my body was completely clean, without a single scar.

What on earth is going on?

Looking at my body, as if everything had reverted as though nothing had happened, I felt chills run down my spine.

I pressed my wrist lightly, as if tapping it, then moved my body again.

The blanket sliding off my body as I moved felt surreal.

A fluttering canopy surrounded the bed, blocking the bright sunlight streaming in. The vague silhouette beyond the swaying canopy looked somehow familiar.

*’This is…’*

My blinking gaze turned back to the canopy, then to the blanket covering me and the bed itself.

The canopy hung to block the bright sunlight, and the room was decorated in bright colors I would never have used in the North.

From the cozy, quaint feel, this was clearly the bedroom at my aunt’s house, where I had stayed before marriage.

Neither I nor Asiard liked having canopies over our beds.

But I had stayed here only before marrying Asiard, and after marriage I rarely saw my aunt, so I shouldn’t have had a reason to come here…

Is this a dream? Is this, like before, showing me what happened after I died?

**”My Lady! You’re awake?”**

Knock, knock—Jena’s voice came from outside.

The urgent knocking startled me so much I nearly jumped out of my skin.

*’It’s not blurry…’*

Though it was a voice from beyond the door, unlike the earlier dreams, it felt much more vivid.

Do dreams become more vivid over time? And *My Lady*?

Even Cleor, Mason’s aide who had regularly reported Northern affairs to me in my father’s stead—since my father stayed in the capital and neglected the North’s internal matters—would sometimes call me *My Lady*, making excuses that he’d called me that his whole life and couldn’t get used to the change so quickly.

But Jena had insisted on calling me *My Lady*, saying that since I was married, it was only natural for the title to change.

And now Jena calls me *’My Lady’*?

**”My Lady! Are you still asleep?”**

**”Uh… Come in! You can come in, Jena.”**

Concerns were concerns, and immediate matters were immediate.

I decided to assess the situation through Jena and called her in.

No sooner had I spoken than Jena opened the door and entered.

She rushed over to me as soon as she came in, sighing and pulling back the blanket.

**”You’re usually an early riser—why are you so late today?”**

**”Hmm… I wonder.”**

**”I understand you must be tired from coming in late last night, but you said a guest would be arriving soon.”**

**”A guest? At this hour?”**

Jena helped me up with practiced hands and tidied the bedding.

She fluffed the blanket, straightened the corners, then stretched and smiled brightly at me.

**”Yes! You said yesterday that a wonderful person would be visiting today!”**

**”…A wonderful person?”**

A ‘wonderful person’?

Jena, who called me *’My Lady’*, and at this time, when I woke up in a bed at my aunt’s house where I’d stayed only once in my life—and I had called someone a ‘wonderful person’?

**”Asiard…?”**

**”Oh my! What a splendid name!”**

Jena clapped her hands and laughed.

**”You came home yesterday and said a guest would be coming today, so the Count, the Marquis, and the Grand Lady are all on edge. I heard a messenger came by this morning too.”**

Jena giggled innocently.

*Our young lady is already in love—I knew she’d be popular,* she hummed under her breath.

She had no way of knowing how confusing this situation was for me, and I suppose that was only natural.

I took a small breath and asked the excited-faced Jena.

**”Jena. What’s the date today?”**

**”Today? It’s April 24th.”**

**”What year in the Imperial Calendar?”**

**”383. Why are you asking that, My Lady?”**

**”383…”**

If it’s 383 in the Imperial Calendar, that’s before I got married.

April is the month of the débutante ball—if my memory serves, we’re currently in the capital for my coming-out, by the Emperor’s decree.

And if that’s the case, I haven’t met Asiard yet.

Before all our tragedies began.

So the ‘wonderful person’ coming today must be someone else?

Did I ever meet anyone other than Asiard while we were in the capital?

I pondered for a moment, then sighed.

What mattered was that someone was coming to see me right now.

And in this state, unable to tell whether this was a dream or reality, the only thing I could do was go along with the situation and figure out what was happening.

April 383. Fine.

Whether this was a dream or reality, I’d find out soon enough.

**”Yesterday was your débutante ball, wasn’t it? You said it was being held unusually early this year. You were so eagerly anticipating it, and now you’ve forgotten it all in just one day?”**

As soon as Jena spoke, something clicked in my head.

I’d been so focused on the month that I’d momentarily forgotten the date.

The only year the débutante ball—typically held in late April—was moved up was 383.

And that was because of the Crown Prince’s insistence.

Why had I forgotten that?

April 24th, Imperial Year 383.

That was the day after I met Asiard at the débutante ball.