🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 8
Don’t Interfere
That morning felt unusually different.
“Miss!”
The head maid, who had woken up especially early that day, discovered Anasta sleeping in the corridor and cried out in shock.
When she demanded to know since when Anasta had been sleeping there, Anasta only parted her lips slightly, like a child who had done something wrong, unable to answer.
“I would appreciate it if you did not do this again. You are to become the lady of the Solter family, and this is behavior that greatly violates propriety and etiquette, and—”
As the head maid droned on with her tiresome scolding, Anasta lightly ignored her and instead thought about what to do next.
If she couldn’t sleep in the corridor anymore, then the only place left would be the wardrobe.
It was narrow, so even if she squeezed herself in she would have to sleep sitting up, but that was still far better than sleeping in the bed and unnecessarily waging another battle with Rian.
“Miss, are you listening to me?”
“Of course.”
Letting out a sigh, the head maid snatched away the pillow Anasta had been using and the blanket covering her.
Saying that they needed to prepare the room and the bedding for time being, the maid delivered her ultimatum. Anasta had no choice but to nod.
After the head maid left, Anasta blamed her own carelessness. She should have woken up earlier if this was going to happen.
After washing her face with cold water, Anasta glanced toward Rian’s quiet room.
Since his seizure yesterday, she hadn’t properly seen him.
It was only natural to worry. She wanted to ask whether he was in pain anywhere, but she knew well that a sharp, cutting reply from Rian would be her only reward.
She understood him. Showing one’s pain to another person was deeply humiliating.
When her own parents had discovered her weakness, she had felt as though she would rather disappear altogether.
“Thank you.”
Anasta noticed the butler and the physician pass by her room. With calm expressions, they stopped in front of Rian’s door and knocked.
Knock, knock.
“Young master, it’s Paul.”
“Young master, are you still asleep?”
Anasta checked the time. Six in the morning. Normally, this wasn’t the hour Rian would wake up.
“It would probably be best to let him sleep a little longer.”
“I see.”
As she watched the two of them turn back, a cold draft brushed against her body.
… It was cold. Was a door opened?
‘No, it’s winter, so all the windows should be closed.’
“It feels like cold air is coming in…”
Anasta rose from the dressing table and slowly followed the direction the draft was coming from.
Rian’s room. Cold air was flowing out from there.
In the middle of winter, there was no way he would be sleeping with the window open…
“I should open the door.”
Anasta took a key from her drawer beside her and unlocked the connecting door. At her sudden action, not only the maid but also the butler and the physician—who had reached the end of the corridor—widened their eyes in surprise.
“What is going on?”
Despite the butler’s question, Anasta did not stop.
After unlocking the door and stepping inside, she was met with a rush of icy wind and the sight of the curtains fluttering wildly.
“Young master!”
Her eyes met Rian’s at once—there he was, standing vacantly on the window frame. His black hair swept in the strong wind, eerily veiling his ashen eyes.
“Young master.”
“… What is it? You again.”
Rian stared back at her with hollow eyes. This was the third floor. If he were to jump in his condition—especially after the seizure yesterday—he would either be gravely injured or die for certain.
“Aaaah! Young master!”
The maid and the head maid, who had entered the room belatedly, screamed in shock. Even so, the young master only cast them a bored glance before turning his gaze back outside.
One saving grace was that to leap out the window, he would first have to climb over the railing. He hadn’t crossed it yet—but he was trying to balance himself.
“Young master! Please calm down!”
The head maid stepped forward, but as if he had made up his mind, Rian grabbed hold of the railing.
“Young master! Please don’t do this!”
“Don’t come any closer!”
The moment someone approached, Rian shouted at the top of his lungs.
“If you take even one more step, I’ll throw myself off.”
“B-but…”
Even if they didn’t approach, he might jump anyway. Everyone swallowed those words.
“Y-young master… I-if you have any complaints, please tell us. We’ll fix everything.”
They tried to placate Rian gently, but the expression of a man prepared to die did not change. A hollow, bloodless, pale face.
Ashen eyes with no focus.
If she crossed the small ledge connecting the two windows, she might be able to stop him.
The problems were the freezing winter wind and her long skirt. Anasta threw her obstructive shawl and outer wear, then removed her thick overskirt.
Dressed only in a thin underskirt, headward toward the window, tying her hair back into a single knot at a fast pace.
Then, without hesitation, she vaulted over the railing that blocked her path in one motion.
It was the depths of winter, and the wind was brutally cold. Bare tree branches brushed against her feet, tickling them.
The icy, rock-hard railing and narrow ledge made Anasta grit her teeth—but she did not turn her room to her.
Moving slowly to the side, she stretched out her foot and stepped onto the narrow molding between the two windows.
As she looked around, she noticed a small protrusion jutting out above her head.
Using every bit of strength she had, she grabbed onto it and immediately pulled herself over to Rian’s railing.
“…!”
At the sudden appearance of her hand, followed by her figure, Rian’s eyes widened.
“Miss!”
The head maid and the butler gasped in shock at the sight of Anasta hanging onto the railing.
“I know you’re suffering, but the world is filled with so many beautiful things, Young Master.”
“… it’s all the same whether I die now or later.”
“It’s not the same. You should by rights live until you before you die. And who knows—you might not die at all. A medicine that can cure this illness might be discovered.”
“So you’re telling me to live while clinging to such empty hope? That’s nothing but torture! You don’t know anything about my suffering, or my dear, do you? You just don’t want someone to die right in front of your eyes!”
Only two weeks. That was all the time Anasta had known Rian.
He had always stayed in his room, living a monotonous, stifling daily life.
Anasta knew all too well how painful a lonely existence must be—trapped indoors, unable to do what one wants or needs to do.
Even though he threw himself at her, Rian still had far too much for him to die now: a distinguished family, a handsome face, remarkable talent…
He was far too precious to be thrown away.
“Anasta, live. You’re very beautiful. That face—I truly want to see it often.”
Natasha’s words burned themselves into Anasta’s mind.
Those were the words spoken when Anasta herself had tried to die. Because she did not die then, she was able to experience beautiful scenery.
“Damn it, Anasta! Anasta!”
Rian was terrified at witnessing someone’s death for the first time. This foolish woman—dying because of him. He couldn’t believe it.
“… You’re noisy.”
At that moment, a faint voice slipped from her lips.
“Y-you’re not dead?!”
“I’m healthy. I don’t die that easily…”
“…”
“Young master.”
“…”
“Do you like desserts?”
“Is this really the time to say that? Call a doctor right now—!”
“The bland greens and meals you eat every day—don’t they taste awful?”
Anasta thought of his meals over the past two weeks. Small portions, tasteless greens, and stew—that was all. Simple to the extreme.
They were probably nutritionally balanced, considering Rian’s condition and illness. Still, they were unbearably dull and joyless.
With that hint, Anasta lost consciousness.
