November in the Northern Regions.
Logan Winterfell gazed down at his land, where everything that had thawed was now frozen solid, getting ready for winter. In his hand, resting against the window sill, was a wine glass. Due to the heavy responsibilities of being the busy head of the family, he had rarely found time to enjoy a drink. This was the first time in a long while that he was holding wine.
It had been over 80 days.
Eighty days had passed since the decision made to uphold the family tradition had yielded the worst outcome due to a lack of caution and negligence.
Moreover,
It also meant that it had been 80 days since the search had yielded no results.
“Please, don’t look for me. I’ve lost someone precious twice already. I don’t want to lose or hurt anyone else.”
Leaving behind a note, Lumia had fled the Grand Ducal Castle that night like Deron Caelid. When Gelwood hurriedly brought the note, Logan had seen his daughter riding away beyond the window, yet he did not order a pursuit.
Lumia would wither if she couldn’t achieve what she had set her mind to. Whether this was due to a curse or not, Logan had no intention of reprimanding her for something beyond her control.
Ever since she had been held back from going to the Academy, Lumia had been suffering in silence, obsessively fixating on what she desired, even sacrificing sleep to pursue it. Because of the curse from the chieftain of the monster tribe, she had to learn how to hide from infancy and had been shackled to the shadows her entire life, which had forged this extreme obsession. Therefore, Logan didn’t wish to blame her for it.
Living a life where she had to hide her name and face from others, while children laugh and play in the sunlight, she had to swallow her loneliness. No one could fathom the anguish she must have endured.
Looking back now, perhaps that curse had started long ago and had already driven his daughter into a corner. That’s why he hadn’t grabbed her then. Forcibly holding onto her would have made Lumia suffer all the more.
Just like that time.
And if she discovered that her plea in the note had been ignored during the extensive search, Lumia would surely dive deeper into hiding. A deep pit that she would never escape from, one that could never be found.
Thus, he had no choice but to follow her quietly.
Lumia had lived her entire life in hiding. She, more than anyone, should have learned how to conceal herself early on, and the skill set she had naturally acquired was making the pursuit difficult.
– Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
With the sound of knocking, Gelwood entered the office and bowed his head. Logan asked, looking out the window at the serene night that had settled over his land.
“Is there any progress?”
“They found the horse that Lady Lumia rode out on.”
“…So, it seems Lumia is not around.”
“Correct.”
Still, there was one reason he cautiously continued to follow her trail: to clarify what the note had written about “losing something precious”—to let her know that if that was the decisive reason for her departure, it should not be so.
“Deron, that bastard.”
“He was spotted in Eltorn Village, but reportedly threw himself over the waterfall. Given that no body was found downstream, he seems to still be alive.”
“That arrogant brat must be captured alive. I’ll personally see to it that his mouth is stitched shut.”
“Understood.”
He had been given a chance but had chosen to let Logan down. It might even be justifiable to hunt him down instead of bringing him in alive, but he couldn’t pass judgment or execute him without squeezing the truth from him first.
Aside from the vague accounts of the guards who rushed after the fact, there wasn’t any clear evidence or witnesses regarding the heinous act that took place that night.
That’s why Logan asked again.
“What about the maid?”
“They say her physical responses are gradually returning. According to Sir Damire, she might awaken within a few days at the earliest.”
“Is that so…”
[Maid]
She was the maid who had directly experienced the sins of that night, and miraculously revived from what was akin to a death sentence with her heartbeat having almost vanished. Unfortunately, it was after Lumia had already departed.
If the maid were to awaken, she would surely provide ample evidence of Deron’s wrongdoings and alleviate the guilt that burdened his youngest daughter.
Thus, Logan Winterfell was doing everything he could to ensure the recovery of Marien, Lumia’s maid, by providing not only the finest medical supplies from the Northern Regions but also appointing his personal physician.
“Hmm…”
With a sigh, Logan took another sip of wine.
—
It was hard to believe that she had awakened. Lumia lay in bed for quite some time, staring blankly at the sky, astonished that she had fallen into a deep sleep.
The warmth enveloping her body felt almost unreal, and she listened to the crackling of the fire, still in disbelief.
And then,
She gazed at the face in front of her, still taken aback. Just before closing her eyes, she had seen what she thought was the harbinger of death— a messenger—but now that she opened her eyes again, it was the face of Elden Raphelion.
His jet-black hair, akin to death itself, and his bloodthirsty ruby eyes belonged to Elden Raphelion.
“I’m so glad. You’ve awakened.”
Everything was confusing.
The sudden appearance of Elden,
The realization that the first person she saw upon waking was him,
The relief washing over his face at seeing her awake.
It all felt like a dream, a nonsensical delusion.
Lumia couldn’t believe the glossy black hair and jewel-like red eyes before her, staring for what felt like an eternity, unsure whether this was a mere illusion or a reality freed from death.
All she felt was the grogginess that often accompanies awakening from a deep slumber.
When she tried to move her body, it felt as stubborn as a broken cart, refusing to respond.
Yet, there was something refreshing about it.
“I’ll help you.”
Noticing the small movements, Elden offered his support as Lumia propped herself against the wall.
“Don’t. It will help you regain your strength.”
Elden handed her a metal bowl, but she stared at it blankly, unable to muster the strength to hold it.
So Elden had to bring the bowl to her lips.
“Even if it’s hard, swallow.”
As he tilted the cup, she began drinking slowly, like a baby bird feeding.
She felt the warm liquid flowing down her throat, filling her empty stomach with warmth.
This was a warmth she couldn’t even remember feeling before.
And perhaps because of that warmth, she began to think that maybe this moment wasn’t an illusion.
Of course, it was still difficult to ascertain whether it was a dream or reality.
“A moment longer, and it could have been a disaster. What I did was merely first aid; you should get a professional diagnosis.”
“……”
The gradually clarifying sensations—the breeze, the sun shining down—confirmed it was no illusion, yet it was so hard to believe that Lumia just stared at Elden with dazed eyes.
What on earth was happening?
At the moment when death had threatened her, what were the chances of running into this familiar figure, one who had left the Grand Ducal territories six months ago, in an unknown land?
Whether it was fate or bad luck, surely the odds would be astronomically slim, even miraculous.
If this reunion was not a fantasy or a hallucination.
“Should you have anything to say to me, you can write it here.”
Elden handed her a pen, but her body felt so heavy that even her fingers struggled to move. However, she managed to grasp the pen.
And then she asked.
(Elden… is that you?)
The name of that dark-haired, ruby-eyed man, who appeared relieved by her recovery.
Elden nodded.
“That’s correct.”
“…”
Though she’d heard it directly and had no choice but to believe, it still felt surreal. The reunion was ill-timed and made no sense circumstance-wise.
Lumia wrote something down and showed the paper.
(How…?)
It was a succinct inquiry about the truth behind this entire situation.
“I was on my way to Marquis Eris when I happened to hear the Grand Duchess’s cries last night. Shortly after, I found her and brought her to the campsite for care.”
“…”
Is that so? To think they “randomly” met again in such a vast land? And to receive help in an unexpected place?
But why?
When I wanted to live, he wouldn’t even cast a glance my way, yet now, when I wished for death, he offers his help?
Of course, there was nothing left to resent now, no desire to deny the changed him, and no intention to dwell in the past. Therefore, all she could say was one thing.
(Don’t help me.)
She wasn’t in a position to receive help; she had come too far.
Offering kindness would be too generous to someone who only harms those dear to her.
Having already lost her maid Ronica, who unexpectedly passed away, and now Marien, it all seemed to end tragically with the words of those standing beside her.
Regretting not realizing sooner that a cursed person doesn’t deserve help was how Lumia expressed herself.
“…Why do you ask me not to help?”
(I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.)
“Are you saying that receiving help can hurt others?”
To Elden’s question, Lumia weakly nodded her head. Then she wrote:
(If Deron is alive, he will come to kill me.)
About the crisis that wasn’t yet resolved.
When that crisis began, she hoped no one would be by her side, showing Elden the words she wrote on the paper.
From that last line, Elden could surmise the situation.
About the events that occurred over the past six months.
About the atrocities committed by that fiend, Deron Caelid.
If she were alone, he’d certainly want to help, but without hearing the opinions of his companions, he couldn’t answer rashly. As Elden hesitated, the campsite became bustling with his companions returning, each attending to their respective tasks.
“Gasp! Lady Grand Duchess! You’re awake? What a relief!”
With a bright smile, Ariel clapped her hands, overjoyed at Lumia’s revival.
“Hoo! No wonder the weather feels pleasant today; it must be because the Grand Duchess is waking!”
The old butler, overwhelmed with emotion, offered blessings for her revival.
“…”
And the guard, with a stoic face, bowed slightly while adding kindling to a dwindling fire to keep warmth alive.
They were the same people he had seen six months ago during the courtship contest parade, still joyously mingling together, celebrating and relieved by her revival. Yet, Lumia, weakened and unable to flee, couldn’t respond to their joyous affirmations, feeling utterly dazed.
Grumble.
As Ariel began to cook soup with the kobold meat she had prepared yesterday and the vegetables collected today, a sound echoed from Lumia’s belly.
It was a sound utterly embarrassing and shameful, a noise she couldn’t stop in time.
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