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Chapter 38
“Thank you, Mother. Everything is far too beautiful for me! But… it feels like there’s just too much…”
The team of designers had finally left.
Exhausted, Damia took a sip of the tea offered by the Duchess.
“Money is meant to be spent, Damia.”
“I… I just feel like I’ll never be able to wear all of this in my lifetime.”
“Money is meant to circulate. People like us, who have plenty, have a duty to spend freely where it’s needed.”
Elena spoke as if giving Damia these extravagant things was her duty.
‘She must have noticed that things have been awkward with the Young Viscount recently.’
Damia quietly swallowed a sigh.
Cassian had been avoiding her so much that she hadn’t seen even a shadow of him for days.
‘We were supposed to act like we liked each other to death and got engaged!’
If she was going to act, she needed to do it properly!
“Has anything happened between you and Cassian lately?”
Elena finally asked directly. Damia swallowed dryly.
“Uh… not really.”
Elena gave a gentle smile, as if she had expected that answer.
“I just don’t understand why Cassian has been acting so obvious.”
“Ahaha.”
“From what I see, it seems like he’s desperate because he likes you.”
That couldn’t be true at all.
Damia barely stopped herself from blurting out.
“Ah, yes. He really is… very attentive.”
“If you feel that way, then that’s good.”
There was a nuance as if she knew everything, but she didn’t seem to doubt his heart—only that she had noticed something strange about his recent behavior.
Was Cassian acting like he adored Damia in front of his mother?
“Even if he starts acting childish suddenly, try to see it as something cute.”
“Uh… but the Young Viscount is so mature.”
“He’s probably just acting defensively because his pride was bruised by the size of his own feelings.”
Damia managed a small smile as she sipped her tea. She couldn’t act completely panicked in front of the Duchess.
“I’m glad you’ve made Cassian healthier since you arrived, dear.”
The Duchess didn’t seem to want to pry into their relationship. She only seemed concerned that Damia’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt.
“I had almost given up hope, but then you appeared like a miracle. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Truly, thank you.”
The words carried a slightly ambiguous weight. A sudden premonition flitted through Damia’s mind.
Could it be that the Duchess already knew Damia was somehow delaying Cassian’s curse?
“No, I’m the one who should be grateful. Meeting both the Young Viscount and you is a great fortune for me.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“You know how much I like the Young Viscount.”
Half of that was true. Even if this contractual engagement ended, she wanted to maintain a relationship with Cassian if possible.
“Mother, um…”
Though she had no real basis, she wanted to ask how much the Duchess knew about her.
“Why do you ask?”
Damia closed her mouth again, unsure how to explain.
She remembered the confidentiality clause in the contract Cassian had given her.
“It’s nothing. I’m just… so grateful.”
She smiled instead of answering.
“If the Young Viscount confuses you in the future, watch his actions more than his words.”
Damia slowly nodded. The words lingered strangely in her mind.
She couldn’t continue to stay awkward around Cassian. If there were misunderstandings, they had to be cleared up.
Damia walked down the endlessly long corridor, which resembled a virgin road.
The enormous hall was packed with guests. An inexplicable sense of foreboding pressed on her chest.
Was it the white veil obstructing her view?
Wait, why am I wearing a pure white dress?
At the end of the aisle, a man waited for her. He was dressed in wedding attire, but the backlighting hid his face.
‘The Young Viscount?’
The man extended his hand. His bare skin touched hers—no gloves.
It was wrinkled. Goosebumps rose across her body.
“I thought this time would be different.”
It wasn’t Cassian—it was Count Pavron. The man bared his teeth in a satisfied smile.
“Let go!”
She tried to scream, but no sound came out.
She tried to call for help, but none of the many guests paid her any attention.
Suddenly, the marble floor cracked, and the space around her twisted and warped.
She felt trapped, unable to move as if sinking in a swamp.
‘Is this the same ending as my previous life? I worked so hard to change it!’
Somewhere, a bell rang—ding, ding. It sounded like a grim announcement that this dreadful wedding had succeeded.
No!
No matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t escape Count Pavron’s grasp.
Through her tears, his face began melting like candle wax. Slowly, his form shifted.
A man resembling Cassian—but somehow an imitation—stood before her. A dragon, mimicking a coachman.
He smiled, ripping his mouth open on his red, burned face.
“I found you.”
The voice was unnaturally clear, as if whispered in her ear.
“Ah!”
Damia gasped and opened her eyes. Cold shivers ran through her body.
She knew it had been a dream, but the last voice kept echoing in her head. It truly felt like the dragon had found her.
She pulled the blanket around her and looked around. Only familiar darkness remained. The room was empty.
“……”
Her throat was parched. She reached for the glass by her bedside, but it was empty.
She considered calling Romi, but didn’t want to show her confused face.
Damia finally forced herself upright and stumbled to the door.
She needed something to drink to regain her senses.
The moment she stepped into the hallway—
“Ugh…”
Her heart sank.
‘What was that? I must have misheard…’
A sobbing voice reached her ears.
“…ugh.”
A small moan, mixed with quiet crying, slipped out.
The pain in the sound was palpable. She could no longer pretend not to hear.
Damia glanced around. The sound came from the far end of the hall.
She moved toward it slowly. The closer she got, the faster her heart raced with an indescribable premonition.
‘Ah.’
She stopped in front of Cassian’s room. Sobs leaked from the gap in the door.
At that moment, her mind went blank. She flung the door open.
The heat hit her face as soon as the door swung open. The room was unbearably hot for dawn.
“What… is this?”
Damia covered her mouth and nose with her arm and approached Cassian.
“Young Viscount!”
Cassian was thrashing on the bed as if near death.
Sweat plastered his bangs to his forehead. She reached to move them aside, but his skin was icy cold.
There was no warmth of life at all.
“Ugh…”
Cassian writhed in pain. It seemed his body was being consumed by heat and poison.
“Stay with me!”
At Damia’s touch, his breathing steadied briefly.
“You… why are you here…?”
Red eyes flickered with recognition. He seemed to know her.
“Get… out!”
As if fully alert, Cassian tried to push her away.
“It could… be dangerous… ugh!”
The pressure tightening around her throat wasn’t an illusion.
Something foreign mixed with the heat filled the room.
Could it be the dragon’s curse seeping out?
Had Cassian been suppressing this all along?
“I’m fine, Young Viscount.”
Damia held his hand tightly. Too weak to resist, he couldn’t pull away.
“Why… are you awake at this hour?”
Red eyes flashed with reproach. A sudden emotion, but understandable.
“How often has this happened?”
“……”
He said nothing. He didn’t want to show weakness.
“Young Viscount…”
Damia bit her lip hard.
She had seen him cough up blood before, but she had never seen him suffer like this.
Had he endured all this alone? And he was only fifteen.
It was unbearable pain for one person.
Her chest ached, pierced by helplessness and anger.
“…Go.”
He pushed her again, but Damia didn’t move.
“The treatment you gave me… it’s here. I’ll… ugh, handle it myself…”
Drip.
Something warm slid down her cheek. Cassian’s expression hardened instantly.
Only then did Damia realize that she was crying.
