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Chapter 31
Why? What’s so wrong with him not loving me?
Leonhardt was different from what she’d read in the original story—arrogant, vicious, and so prone to fits of madness that he was said to be dangerously unstable.
But the Leonhardt Kali had met was different. She had come to know sides of Leonhardt Spencer that the book had never shown.
As expected, you only see someone’s true nature when you experience it yourself.
Of course, he was still willful, self-centered, and never moved unless there was something in it for him.
Yet he was unexpectedly playful, gentle beneath the surface, and warmer than he let on. He often acted for his own benefit, but not always. Even when he said something frightening with a smiling face, his words usually rang true.
He really wasn’t such a bad man.
No… why am I only thinking of his good points?
“Kali.”
“…Yes?”
“What’s got you so lost in thought, when I’m right beside you? I might start to feel neglected.”
“I was just wondering when we’ll reach the Morai Forest.”
“I was about to tell you more about it, but you weren’t listening.”
“You started too late. Tell me now.”
“I lost interest.”
“Then find it again and tell me.”
She stuffed her earlier thoughts deep down and locked them away. There was no need to dwell on them.
Kali decided not to think about it anymore.
“It’s nothing special,” Leonhardt said. “When I was little, after my father scolded me, I just ran off and ended up in the Morai Forest.”
“And then?”
“In the daytime, flowers bloomed there that you’d never see anywhere in the North. At night the stars were so close and bright it felt like they would fall right down.”
Stars.
Such a simple word, yet it lodged itself in her ears. It tugged at her, as though she mustn’t let it go, though she couldn’t say why.
She wanted to ask more, but held back.
“But… Leon…”
“Mm?”
“Doesn’t it seem like the fog is getting thicker?”
Kali glanced around. The dense trees and undergrowth made the place dark as any shadowed wood. It felt as if a monster might spring out at any moment.
Strangely, the deeper they walked, the denser the mist became. At first it was only a faint haze, like a wisp of incense, but it soon thickened until she could hardly see ahead.
“You’re right,” he said.
“Was it always like this in the Morai Forest?”
“No. I don’t remember much, but I’m sure there wasn’t fog like this.”
“Going farther in… isn’t it dangerous?”
“We’re not following the same path I took before. Maybe this is normal for another route.”
Leonhardt didn’t slow his pace. Kali stiffened with unease.
Sensing her tension, his fingers brushed her back, and some of the strain eased.
“Kali, you’ll like the forest once you see it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Want to make a bet?”
“Sure.”
Relaxing a little, Kali turned to face him. He was smiling that unreadable smile.
“Let’s bet on a wish,” he said.
“All right. If I like it, you win. If I don’t, I win.”
“Deal. You’ll definitely like it.”
“Judging by this fog, I doubt it.”
“Don’t judge it just by the fog, okay?”
This time his large hand ruffled her hair as though she were a little squirrel. Kali smacked his hand, scolding him. He dodged, trying to catch her hand in return, but failed.
“Come to think of it…”
Leonhardt suddenly lowered his hand and rubbed his chin.
“I just remembered. Every time I came here at night, I met a girl.”
Kali, who’d been shielding her head with both hands, looked up in surprise. He murmured as he stepped deeper into the thickening mist.
“I can’t remember what she looked like. But whenever I was hanging my head after Father scolded me, she’d suddenly appear.”
“Gasp… wasn’t she a ghost?”
“No way. I saw her walking.”
“Ghosts can walk too, you know. And then?”
“She was a curious girl. I never learned her name, but every time we talked there was something… strange about it.”
Leonhardt paused, brow furrowing as he tried to recall the past.
Then he lifted his head and fixed his gaze on a single spot.
What is he looking at?
Kali turned to follow his line of sight. No one was there. A chill ran down her spine.
“Uh… Leon…?”
She called softly, but he didn’t answer. He stared at that point as if entranced.
Uneasy, she grabbed his fingers and shook them. But he didn’t budge.
“Leon. Leon?”
It was as if he couldn’t hear her.
Then—
The strength drained from Leonhardt’s hand. His left hand, which had been folded, opened flat. Kali tumbled to the ground.
“Ahh! Leon, what are you doing? Hold on to me properly—wait, what…?”
Before she could stop him, Leonhardt started walking.
“Wait, where are you going?!”
He walked only toward whatever he saw, and soon disappeared into the thick mist.
Kali stared blankly after him. Then a voice whispered near her ear.
“The stars are so clear tonight!”
A girl with curly red hair was passing by.
Kali hesitated at a fork in the path.
Should she follow Leonhardt into the fog, or chase the red-haired girl before her?
“Argh… why these trials for me…?”
There was no time to deliberate.
In the end, she chose to follow the girl who seemed to beckon her forward.
Leonhardt’s mother had red hair. Levi had red hair. Even if no one else mattered, Leonhardt’s cursed bride of a mother had red hair.
Then following the red hair must be right.
Kali hurried after the girl, but her own human pace felt frustratingly slow.
She pounded her chest and quickened her steps. She could crawl to go faster, but that was unthinkable.
I’m… I’m a human being. I have my dignity.
Gritting her teeth, she waddled after the girl who looked about seven years old.
“I’ll get to meet him today!”
Suddenly the girl from her dreams came to mind.
They looked to be about the same age.
The dream girl also had red hair, but it was straight, with freckles on her face, single-lidded eyes, and blue-gem earrings in both ears.
The girl before her had curly hair, deep double eyelids, and no earrings. Yet she was strikingly pretty, the sort who might be called the most beautiful woman on the continent one day.
“Ah, I’m exhausted… so tired!”
Kali had to find Leonhardt, yet she also had to keep up with the girl’s quick little steps.
Her lungs burned and she almost gave up, but she couldn’t abandon this precious clue.
She had once wondered if the girl in her dream might be her own younger self, Kali Herace. But seeing this child, she knew instinctively:
This girl was the real Kali Herace.
Then… who was the one in my dreams?
The thought slowed her for a moment.
“I snuck out. We have to hurry.”
As if urging her on, the girl moved ahead. Fearing she’d lose her, Kali snapped back to alertness.
“Wait up! Don’t just flit around!”
Kali chased after the girl with all her might.
Before she knew it, a heavy fog surrounded her, so dense she couldn’t tell if anyone else was near.
Leonhardt, meanwhile, followed a small child who looked remarkably like his younger self.
Is that me? Or… someone else?
The little boy walked toward the estate’s garden, face bright with anticipation. Amid the beautiful blooms, he carefully chose a flower to pick.
Ah. I remember now.
Leonhardt found himself standing beside the child—his own seven-year-old self. Back then he always chose flowers for his mother in that very garden, even though the gardener scolded him every time.
Mother… you loved whatever I brought you.
His face softened with nostalgia.
The boy, after selecting a flower, lifted his head to gaze at the distant iron tower. Sunlight glinted off it, filling young Leonhardt with a complicated feeling.
Following the boy’s gaze, Leonhardt looked up too.
Mother.
Branded a “cursed bride,” she had been coldly shunned by Grand Duke Sylvester the moment she entered the mansion. Right after the wedding, as if he’d been waiting for it, Sylvester locked her in the tower.
She was forbidden to leave and never once set foot outside.
So Leonhardt always brought her pretty flowers. Since his father disapproved, he had to sneak them in.
Mother, I’ve always wanted to ask—why didn’t you resent Father?
Sylvester had only one reason for imprisoning her: he already loved someone else. But the arrival of a cursed bride forced him apart from his beloved, making reunion impossible.
So he locked her away, saying he couldn’t bear the sight of her, blaming her for the loss of his love and the wound it caused.
Is that what you call love?
The boy began walking again, secretly heading for the tower. His face was full of smiles. He didn’t care if Father caught him—seeing his beloved mother was worth it.
A wry smile touched Leonhardt’s lips.
His father, heartbroken from losing his true love and tortured by madness, needed someone to vent his rage upon.
And that someone was, tragically, his cursed-bride mother.
“Will Mother like this one today? I hope she does…”
At the boy’s innocent murmur, Leonhardt gave a faint, bittersweet laugh.
Back then, he had cared so deeply, wanting to do anything for the mother trapped in her cage.
