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Chapter 22
Even after returning to her room, Damia held the letter in her hands for a long time.
Her mind was cluttered, and she felt a heavy pressure in her chest.
‘Why hasn’t Romi come back yet?’
Perhaps she had grown so accustomed to Romi’s chatter that the quiet of the room felt strange.
Alone, unnecessary thoughts kept creeping in.
For instance, Cassian’s sudden obsession with her.
‘If Cassian could escape his limited time, would anything really change?’
And what if the key to that was Damia herself?
‘Could this fake engagement really become real?’
It might even be seen as an opportunity.
Yet Damia’s heart pounded not with excitement, but with unease.
In her previous life, she never intended to keep the title of a minor viscount’s fiancée that had belonged to someone else.
She did not wish to live as a mere nominal duchess, enduring mockery that she was far beneath him.
‘A marriage where one side is overwhelmingly superior can never be happy.’
So Cassian should at least be paired with a young lady of a respectable background, like Druery.
‘Why of all things did I end up with this strange ability?’
No, she wasn’t even sure it qualified as an ability.
It could simply be a bizarre phenomenon, with no guarantee it would repeat.
Even the physician of the House of Sarkis, who had studied the Dragon’s curse for a long time, had claimed this was the first time he’d seen such a thing.
“Miss Damia!”
Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached, and the butler knocked at the door.
Snapped out of her thoughts, Damia instinctively shoved Arsen’s letter into the bedside table.
Her heart beat faster for no reason, even though she had done nothing wrong.
“May I come in for a moment? It’s urgent!”
Glancing out the window, she realized it was already dark. It wasn’t the usual time for the butler to come looking for her.
“It’s serious! Ro-Romi…!”
Why mention Romi all of a sudden?
Startled, Damia flung the door open.
The ashen-faced butler was stamping his feet in panic.
“What happened? What about Romi?”
“She’s in critical condition. Seriously injured—almost at death’s door…”
“What?”
Damia’s lips parted slowly.
A chill ran down her spine, and she felt as if she could hear ringing in her ears.
“A message came from the House of Sarkis. They found Romi on the mountains behind the family estate, and she was in a state close to a corpse.”
“Romi was only supposed to go into town. There was no reason to go that far!”
“The mountains behind the estate have rare herbs. The villagers sometimes sneak in to gather them, and the family usually turns a blind eye.”
Damia suddenly remembered a remark Romi had made in passing.
‘If the Viscount allows it, I’d like to gather and sell some herbs from the hills behind the house.’
Through her brother Luke, Romi had been selling some of the herbs and ointments little by little.
It wasn’t widely known yet, but it was a decent allowance.
Once she tasted success, Romi had grown even more enthusiastic in helping Damia. Among other things, she had mentioned the estate hills.
Still, she wouldn’t have done anything like this without telling Damia.
“Romi has always been a bit greedy, hasn’t she? She must have slipped in secretly and misstepped.”
“…That can’t be. It’s not Romi.”
The butler lowered his head with a grave expression.
“The House of Sarkis sent a carriage. The fate of a maid may not be critical to them, but…”
He seemed to have already accepted Romi’s death as inevitable.
“Since she’s the maid personally assigned to you by the young viscount, they intend to take special care.”
“……”
“If Romi succumbs, they’ll probably conduct the funeral themselves.”
“Funeral…? Already saying such things…”
Cold sweat kept forming on her palms.
Even if someone she barely knew were near death, she would worry. But Damia had grown particularly close to Romi.
Romi was cheerful and looked up to Damia like a benefactor. Time spent together was always enjoyable.
They would talk about what to make with herbs, and before they knew it, the sun would have set.
“Miss, you may find it hard to believe… but here is a letter bearing the House of Sarkis’ seal.”
The familiar crest of the House of Sarkis was unmistakable.
“Romi might not survive the night. Perhaps you should say your last goodbyes…”
Damia could no longer deny reality.
The night had deepened, and the air was quite chilly.
Damia clutched the only coat she had and headed for the backyard.
Something rattled in her pocket, but she had no time to worry about it.
“You say this carriage will take me to the estate?”
A large black carriage sat idly in the yard.
It bore only the crest of the House of Sarkis, without any decoration.
“Yes, miss. Please get in quickly. The driver brought the official letter himself, so you can trust him.”
“Why didn’t they send the carriage from the House of Sarkis directly?”
“You’re not formally married yet, correct? Visiting each other at this hour might draw criticism, so they’re being cautious.”
“Romi is in critical condition… what does gossip matter?”
At that moment, the driver, hat pulled low, made a muffled noise, as if trying not to laugh.
“Did the driver just laugh?”
“You must be mistaken, miss. Now, please hurry.”
The butler also noticed the driver’s suspicious reaction but quickly resumed his calm and urged Damia along.
A strange unease rose from Damia’s feet to the top of her head.
“Wait a moment. I must inform my father. It’s our family’s maid, and the head of the household should know.”
“That won’t be necessary, miss. The Viscount is already fast asleep. I will explain everything in detail tomorrow morning.”
The butler personally opened the carriage door for her.
Why did it feel like they were rushing so much?
Damia hesitated as she stepped onto the stairs. If Romi were truly in danger, she would regret waiting.
“You really do talk a lot.”
The butler’s dry muttering slipped into her ear.
His voice was faint, but the silence made it clear.
“What did you just say?”
Damia turned to face him.
He let out a deep sigh and shrugged.
“I told you to hurry.”
“Liar.”
“It seems you’re too shocked to be rational, miss.”
“I’m not going. Something feels wrong.”
Damia planted her feet firmly and stopped.
She had a feeling that being taken along quietly would end badly.
“Miss, Romi has always followed you closely, hasn’t she? You should witness her final moments.”
“……”
Those words pricked Damia’s conscience.
Had she been wrong to remove Romi from the Marquis’ household?
If she hadn’t interfered, Romi would have succeeded, albeit with some hardships, just like in her previous life.
“Now, let us depart quickly. The young viscount is likely waiting.”
“Stop urging me. First…”
“Ha, are you going to continue resisting like this?”
“What?”
The middle-aged butler pressed his temple and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Ah! Let me go!”
He lifted Damia like a bundle and tried to shove her into the carriage.
“Let go!”
Damia clawed at him and struggled.
But being frail compared to an adult man, she had no chance of resisting.
“Ah!”
The butler tossed her into the carriage.
He impatiently rubbed his face, marked by her scratches.
“Struggling is useless, miss.”
“Why are you doing this to me?!”
“Once I’ve been paid, I will perform my duties to the best of my ability. My task today is to deliver you safely to him.”
“Who exactly are you talking about?! Who is ‘him’?!”
Could it be Count Fabron?
Was this all due to resentment from not being paid while serving the household?
Was he really trying to profit by selling the young lady to an old count?!
But that was her father’s fault, not hers!
“Miss, it seems this may be the last time we meet, so I’ll be honest. I, personally…”
The butler, now catching his breath, twisted his mouth into a cruel smile.
“Even if I hadn’t been paid, I would have done the same.”
