IDHGA 02

Chapter 02

Like a magic that has now faded away, leaving behind only a faint name, how wonderful it would be if, when I opened my eyes, everything could be undone as if it never happened.

But magic had long since disappeared, and there was no way that what had already happened could be erased.

Above all, the magic that exists solely for the Imperial Family could never be unfolded for me, who stands on the opposite side of the Imperial Family.

Magic was merely my vain hope, and reality was reality.

I lifted my heavy eyelids and rose from my seat.

“Milady, you’re awake?”

As I threw off the covers and got up, my personal maid, Jena, ran to me with a worried expression.

With dazed eyes, I got out of bed and stood on the floor.

“Has Father left?”

“Yes. The Head Butler even put him on a carriage himself and sent him off. When the Earl said he wouldn’t go, he had the knights force him away.”

“Dayrik must have had a hard time.”

“You’re worried about the Earl, aren’t you? I have a feeling something like this will happen again.”

Jena, who had been tidying my tangled hair, let out a long sigh.

“What on earth did the two of you talk about? You even fainted, which you never do—you have no idea how shocked I was.”

Jena shook her head with a voice full of worry.

She had followed me from the North, and she was a girl who could read my heart just by looking into my eyes.

Even though I told her to go back to the North, she stubbornly refused to leave, saying she was worried about me.

Since she always takes my side no matter what, if she had heard what Father said, she would have raged even more than I did.

She might have even let out a string of unidentified curses.

Knowing Jena’s sharp tongue, it was certainly a plausible scenario.

So it was best that I kept this matter to myself.

I chose to quietly keep my mouth shut.

“Will the Duke be late again today?”

“I don’t know. These days, he doesn’t announce when he’ll be home, and he never eats at the mansion. Even the Head Butler doesn’t know.”

“I see.”

Should I tell him?

Or would it be better to just stay silent?

That the source of all his worries and troubles has appeared.

That we no longer have to turn a blind eye to each other.

That this was all a plot by Father and the Crown Prince, so he shouldn’t suffer anymore.

…But, after he had been discouraged by the visible circumstances, even though he had screamed until his throat was raw that it was all a misunderstanding, would he even hear these words?

In any case, we were both still trapped in a mire from which it seemed hard to escape.

I kept thinking until the gradually darkening surroundings finally sank into what seemed like endless darkness, and until he came.

The answer came from something surprisingly trivial.

Ironically, on the days my husband came home drunk, he would always come looking for me.

Even though our relationship was already broken, he sought me out every single day. Then, when he found out I wasn’t there, he would rage even more fiercely.

One day, Jena cautiously mentioned that it seemed he needed to confirm I was by his side every night to feel at ease.

Like he was instinctively looking for me.

But could I really dismiss his constant, nitpicking questioning about where I had been and whom I had met as something so simple?

I had to stand before him like a criminal, trying hard not to show any expression on my face.

“What did you do today?”

Today was no different.

He came home only when it was so dark you couldn’t distinguish anything without a light, and while staggering as he changed his clothes, he questioned me with a numb expression.

“I was at the mansion all day. You can ask Dayrik if you don’t believe me.”

“Hah. Dayrik always takes your side in everything. Who am I supposed to trust and ask?”

His sharp, sarcastic voice, seemingly drunk, filled my ears.

It wasn’t that his words were slurred.

The strong scent of liquor that permeated his entire body was one thing, but I could also tell from the way he was throwing words that pierced my heart, unlike his usual self who would ignore me.

He was always like this on days he was utterly drunk.

He always asked me something, while simultaneously sneering that he couldn’t trust my answers or anyone who vouched for me.

And yet, on the other hand, he would send me a look that I could not possibly answer.

His words desperately tried to wound me, but his eyes acted as if *he* was the one more hurt.

Was he asking me to understand him, or was he just making that face unconsciously?

Either way, with a face I could not respond to, he asked me again today.

Relentlessly, without a single moment’s pause.

“What did you have for lunch today, and where?”

“Were there any invitations that came in? You’re not secretly exchanging letters with the Crown Prince without my knowledge, are you?”

“Is there anything Dayrik has been sneaking to you? If there is, tell me now. Before I have people search your room.”

“Please, I beg you, just stay quietly at home. You didn’t go out without my permission again, did you?”

He asked me, and asked me again.

As if that would somehow alleviate his anxiety, he always subjected me to this repetitive cycle of questions that would tire any listener…

When he first started asking me these meaningless questions, I faithfully answered each time, thinking that if it could ease his anxiety even a little.

Because if that was enough to stop him from suspecting me, that was all I needed.

But hopes are just hopes.

He was never satisfied with my answers, and always showered me with similar kinds of questions.

Like a person waiting for me to answer affirmatively and admit that I had betrayed him.

“Can’t you just quietly get into trouble like other noble ladies? No, better yet, can’t you just live like you’re dead? Why does it always have to be *you* who stirs up the whole country?”

It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything.

“I wonder why you even chose me in the first place. Were you curious to see how the proud Fontaines would fall? Huh?”

I truly loved you. I didn’t want to see myself fall apart like this either.

“I really can’t trust a word you say. How long do I have to put up with this?”

Why won’t you trust me anymore? Do you even regret having loved me now?

“I should have just never married you. If we were just lovers, I could have cast you out anytime.”

…They were just harsh words I had heard so often that I had become numb to them.

But why did it feel like it was carving out my heart?

“I… didn’t believe in *you*, or your love.”

…I, I… Asirid. I…

“Just… just disappear from my sight now, please…”

With a look of hatred, and a tone that couldn’t hide his contempt.

He said that, putting as much resentment and hatred into it as he could.

…Yes. I wish we had never met.

If so, would you have been less miserable than you are now?

“If… if I were to be reborn, I would never meet you again, Eloise.”

The moment I heard his resentment-filled words, I felt something snap, deep in my chest.

And at the same time, a strong regret washed over me, realizing that my being by his side was no longer of any help.

I realized what I could do for him.

***

The answer was already set.

There was no need to turn back, nor to struggle.

I watched him, exhausted after unleashing a torrent of curses upon me, as he fell asleep, and I stood motionless for a long time.

Even after pouring out all that, he seemed to be suffering even in his dreams.

I wish he could at least sleep peacefully.

As I silently watched him, I withdrew my hand, which I had unconsciously reached out.

Sometimes, very rarely, when he was troubled by dreams from his childhood, I used to stroke his head.

A memory, now faded, like a distant recollection.

Afraid that my unconsciously outstretched hand, as I used to do then, might touch him, I turned and left the room.

Because if I touched him… his nightmares would only deepen.

“Milady, has the Duke fallen asleep?”

As I closed the door and came out, Jena, who had been waiting outside, hurried over.

I nodded lightly and started walking.

Even though he had cursed me while drunk like that, come morning, he would silently go about his business as if nothing had happened.

The alcohol he drank so heavily that he wouldn’t even remember the previous night would cloud all his memories.

And then he would spend another sleepless night tormented by the gossip he heard about me outside.

Those days continue endlessly.

Probably, until one of us gives up something, it will continue endlessly.

“Jena. You should go and rest now too. I’ve already prepared for bed.”

“Huh? But Milady, seeing you to sleep is part of my job.”

I stopped walking and gestured to Jena, but she waved her hands, saying she was fine.

Loyal and kind Jena.

I shook my head and gently pushed her back again.

“Just go. Take your time coming in tomorrow too. I want to sleep in late.”

“But, Milady…”

“Go on.”

When I firmly shook my head, Jena reluctantly left.

I watched Jena disappear, then started walking again.

Walking to my room, just a few steps away from Asirid’s room, I thought.

About the last thing I could do for him.

Upon returning to my room, I wrote a short letter to leave for Asirid.

The letter that began with an apology ended with an apology as well.

What else could I possibly say to him?

His life was ruined because of me, and shattered because of my father’s greed regarding me.

Even though the letter wasn’t very long, recalling the time I spent with him made my vision blur.

My hands trembled so badly that I had to press down with each letter, and the ink smeared everywhere.

I don’t know how many times I rewrote it.

After writing the last line of apology, I pondered for a moment, and then added one more line.

‘If there is a next life, I pray we never meet.’

The happiness he gave me was so profound it could never be repaid.

He always generously gave me a precious heart that I had never once received in my entire life.

The feeling of a heart that had never been filled once, finally becoming warmly full.

Who other than him could have given me such a feeling?

But I, who had nothing to give him, could only offer this trivial wish.

A wish that will never come true, perhaps just empty words.

Unconsciously smoothing my trembling hand, I neatly folded the letter and placed it on the bedside table where it could be easily seen.

Then, raising the knife in my hand, I quietly closed my eyes.