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~Chapter 6~
I rubbed the wrist that had been shaken off. It stung, but compared to the torment of the past few days, it was nothing.
Focus, Dahlia.
Etienne is my golden goose, my financier, my source of comfort. I just need to endure a little longer—an easy life awaits.
The anger that had flared up receded like the tide.
Even if he slapped me across the face with a bowl of fermented beans right now, I’d forgive him. Absolutely.
“Please… just one month, yes?”
Etienne regarded me with wary eyes, as though afraid I might hurl myself at him again.
“…But if you exceed that period, you’ll pay a greater price.”
My eyes fluttered open and shut.
Really? He’s giving me a chance?
Before he could change his mind, I blurted,
“Deal!”
Before the carriage, Etienne stood still, staring down at his hand.
Even after all this time, he could still feel the faint warmth from where Dahlia’s fingers had brushed his.
“Disgusting.”
He rubbed his hand roughly, yet the tingling sensation refused to fade.
Her appearance earlier had been utterly shocking. Never in his life had anyone clung to his leg—and that someone being Dahlia made it all the more unbelievable.
Why had she changed so completely?
‘I don’t remember anything.’
A preposterous excuse. Not a single wound elsewhere, and yet, her memory conveniently gone?
And still… something about her was different.
Tracing it back, it must have been that day—the moment she had lifted her trembling face before the blade. Her small, round face had flushed scarlet, her lips forming his name for the first time.
‘Were her eyes always violet?’
Those trembling, mysterious eyes haunted him still.
Strange. He could recall nothing of her features over the past year—not her voice, not her face. Everything had blurred, as though it belonged to another lifetime.
‘We never truly spoke. How could I remember her?’
Their marriage had been the Emperor’s sudden decree. For the year that followed, they hadn’t even shared a single meal.
Dahlia had abused the long-serving staff, humiliated Etienne in public, and exhausted his patience.
At first, he’d tried to maintain civility—but soon gave up and decided to ignore her entirely.
So when he discovered she had stolen from him, he hadn’t even been surprised.
What startled him now was her transformation.
Hearing footsteps, Etienne lifted his head.
From afar, Dahlia approached the carriage—her clothes filthy, her hair tattered, her smile bright as sunlight.
‘Why is she smiling like that?’
Her radiant grin unsettled him, even made her seem to glimmer faintly.
His stomach turned in unfamiliar discomfort.
“Suspicious. I’ll never fall for it. Once I retrieve my property, I’m divorcing her at once.”
I had won just one month of grace and climbed into the carriage bound for the estate—only to realize it was the very definition of a seat of thorns.
The oppressive silence was suffocating. I kept my eyes on the window, afraid to turn my head.
Good grief, why is this carriage so soundproof? Is every prince’s carriage like this? Then at least make it spacious!
Etienne clearly had no intention of truly taking me back; the carriage was built for one person.
Our knees brushed whenever it swayed, and I pressed my back against the seat, muscles taut.
But why was he so quiet? Surely he wasn’t as awkward as I was…
I stole a glance using the whites of my eyes—a technique I dubbed my Magic Eye Skill. He seemed to be staring straight ahead.
Is he asleep?
Daring to turn my eyes further, I saw his lids closed.
Sleeping indeed.
I studied his face openly. His thick lashes cast shadows across his cheeks.
Wow… beautiful.
When awake, his features looked sharp, severe—but now, softer.
Handsome, truly. My golden goose. My precious “Goldy.”
Strong brows, a nose like it had been sculpted, flawless skin untouched by dust, and those enigmatic blue eyes—
Wait. Eyes?
“Ah!”
“Planning to pounce again?”
Etienne’s tone was icy.
“W-when did you open your eyes?”
He didn’t bother answering, merely shut them once more.
“Since you started staring.”
“I wasn’t staring…”
Guilt stabbed me.
“I just thought you’d fallen asleep.”
“If you’re plotting to escape, abandon that thought.”
“I wasn’t!”
Silence again.
Escape? Why would I ever? Leaving behind my gorgeous meal ticket? Not a chance.
After a while, I dared to speak again.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No.”
“Why are you forgiving me?”
“I haven’t.”
“Still, you’re giving me another chance.”
His clear eyes turned toward me, and under their weight, I shut my mouth.
“Better use your time finding that item. Unless you want to end up somewhere worse than the temple in a month.”
“Tch. And if I find it? Will you not divorce me then?”
“You’ll earn your freedom.”
“What? So it’s divorce either way? That’s absurd! If I’m divorced no matter what, I won’t bother.”
“Turn the carriage around.”
“N-no! I’ll find it! I’ll find it right away!”
I forced a smile, stretching my lips wide.
Fine. If I must be divorced, I’d rather it be a month from now than today.
Even he, clearly irritated, leaned back with a grimace.
“Can’t we just not divorce? I’ll behave, I promise.”
He frowned at me as if I’d said something vile.
“No.”
“Why? I’m pretty, aren’t I? Sweet too—or I will be. Don’t we make a lovely couple? Come on, think positively!”
His expression darkened further.
“For a whole year, you begged for freedom. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Freedom’s nice, but…”
Money is nicer.
His gaze burned into me, hot and sharp—not with affection, but like a detective interrogating a criminal.
“What is it?”
Oh no. Am I being interrogated right now?
I averted my gaze to the window, but he wouldn’t allow it. His hand caught my chin and turned me back toward him.
Too close.
His breath brushed the bridge of my nose, carrying his subtle scent. A shiver ran through me, and I bit my lower lip to suppress a scream.
Etienne’s fingers moved, prying my lip free. The touch was languid, almost indecent.
My lips parted of their own accord.
Dear God, this is emotional assault! I’ll press charges!
I couldn’t move—couldn’t even breathe. His eyes traced the lines of my face, burning into me until our gazes met.
Those eyes… they’ll swallow me whole.
Then, his voice—low, resonant.
“What’s your game?”
Beautiful.
His words echoed faintly, background noise to his flawless face.
Focus, Dahlia! Say something—anything—
But all I could think was: That face. That impossible face.
“Dahlia. Speak.”
His red lips shaped my name. I found myself staring at them, entranced.
Guilty lips. Guilty voice.
“I… I love you.”
“…What?”
Wait—what did I just say?!
His lips parted in shock, his gaze trembling. My own must have been worse.
Why? Why would I say that?
Etienne would probably respond, ‘Hearing those words from you makes my ears rot. Get out and feed yourself to the monsters.’
I’m doomed.
But words, once spoken, cannot be unsaid.
Should I claim I love money instead? Or steak? Both sounded pathetic.
There was no escape. Method acting it is.
I inhaled deeply and declared,
“I love you, Etienne.”
Silence fell like a curtain over the carriage.
