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chapter 48
Transparent droplets ran down his handsome face.
The tears that clung to a face that looked as though it had never known how to cry left Rinka bewildered—and at the same time, made her heart soften.
He reached out a trembling hand and brushed her cheek.
Because of the tears running down Ananta’s face, Rinka couldn’t even gather her wits; even shaking her head to push his touch away felt like a struggle.
It was such a familiar touch—no different from usual—and yet, just because it wasn’t him, she had to reject it.
“I was the one who gave you your name.”
“Wait, hold on a second—”
“You said you’d let only me call you that…”
And on top of that—this damn face!
If it were anyone else, she would’ve turned away even if they were handsome. But with Ananta’s face… it was simply impossible.
Rinka tried to steady her breathing and turn her head away, but this time he gripped her cheek a little harder—as if that touch were the only anchor keeping them connected.
“And yet, you left me.”
In that moment, a chill crept into his voice.
The tender affection that had filled the space between them moments ago vanished, as if it had only been an illusion.
“You stole what was mine, and broke our promise.”
His voice reverberated in her head, echoing like it came from the deepest abyss of the sea.
“Ugh—”
A cold hand touched her neck as she let out a pained sound.
“You left me all alone.”
Why are you blaming me for that?
That wasn’t me.
She clutched her throbbing head and screamed it in her mind again and again—but it didn’t seem to reach him.
“I don’t believe in you anymore.”
Forever.
From now on, forever.
“So if you wish to protect this body… you’ll have to return what you never gave me.”
Ananta’s grip tightened. A burning pain surged to her head and then slowly ebbed away.
His darkened eyes traced her face as though searching for something.
“Remember. What it was you promised to give me.”
Her breath finally came back and the pain stopped—but Rinka couldn’t say a word.
Ananta didn’t open his eyes again until four days later.
The Duke of Belzert had lain unconscious for four whole days, yet the mansion carried on as if nothing unusual had happened.
As though everyone was used to their master’s bouts of illness, the butler locked the bedroom door and replied to letters from the imperial court and the nobles with the excuse that the Duke had gone on a trip to his territory.
During that time, Rinka hadn’t been able to leave the house either.
It would have been strange for the duke’s unmarried fiancée to wander around without him, so it was announced that she had accompanied him to his estate.
There were two separate visits requested by Maccard Cather, but both times he was politely turned away with the message that they would contact him when the duke returned.
Rinka had been present beside the butler through the whole process, grumbling the entire time.
“Is that guy insane? How long does he plan to keep showing up?”
“My lady, you mustn’t speak that way in public.”
“Ah—yes, of course.”
She shut her mouth quickly at the butler’s scolding—but privately, she unleashed every curse she knew.
“—Anyway, that’s what happened.”
Now, Ananta had been briefed by the butler and was sitting across from Rinka, listening as she explained everything in her own words.
Even after she casually described refusing Maccard Cather’s visits and how she’d studied the harbors and the islands “to make sure their stories matched,” Ananta still hadn’t let her leave.
He seemed to suspect something.
Something that didn’t match what the butler said—or what Rinka said.
She had planned to keep quiet, thinking he wasn’t fully recovered yet. But apparently, his instincts had already pieced things together.
In the end, Rinka sat down on the edge of the bed where he was reclining—the same spot where he had briefly sat when it wasn’t really Ananta.
The strange sense of déjà vu made her uneasy, but she brushed it aside. There were more important things now.
“Captain—no, Ananta.”
“Mm.”
“There’s something I need to ask you.”
“Go on.”
His calm eyes met hers—as though he’d been waiting for this question all along.
And yet, at the same time, there was fear in them.
Really now… does he think I’m going to eat him alive or run away?
Of course, she would have to leave him someday—but that day wasn’t today. And certainly not in this way.
Besides…
“After this, I’ll listen to anything you want. A name, a wish—whatever.”
She had already made that promise—to the thing inside Ananta. Whether she could fulfill it or not, she’d said she would listen.
“You’ll have to return what you never gave me.”
He had made a condition too. To protect Ananta’s body, Rinka had to give it something.
“Did you know that there’s… something inside you?”
“…Inside me?”
This part, though, she hadn’t expected at all.
Ananta looked genuinely confused—as though he had no idea what was inside him.
Oh, great. So they hadn’t even discussed this.
Of course, if giving up his body had required his consent, Ananta would never have agreed.
In the end, Rinka had no choice but to explain the whole sequence of events that happened while he was unconscious.
Naturally, she left out the parts where he had strangled her or called her a traitor with murderous intent. It wasn’t important now—nothing had happened, and they were safe.
“So it wasn’t a curse?”
“I mean, it still seems like one.”
“No, but if what you’re saying is true, that snake… swallowed me whole.”
Ananta’s expression turned grave as he pressed a hand to his forehead.
Seeing his look of helpless confusion oddly helped Rinka calm down. She could now think about the situation more objectively—and really, wasn’t that a good sign?
“That’s impossible. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Captain. Captain?”
“What in the world is this…”
“Ananta!”
Seeing his blue eyes cloud over, sinking into confusion, Rinka raised her voice and cupped his cheeks, pulling his gaze back to her.
His wandering eyes finally met her sunset-colored ones.
Seeing that, Rinka beamed.
“Are you with me now? Come on—we’ve got work to do.”
Ananta Belzert.
He had learned his own name when he was twelve years old.
Before that, until his twelfth birthday, he’d simply been called young master by the servants, and you by his father—and somehow, it had never felt strange not to have a name.
The tutors who came once a week had no reason to address him by name. He had no friends, no one to speak to, and grew up entirely alone.
The servants all had names, but they’d always say things like, “Highborn children like the young master often receive their names later,” or “Even your father had no name when he was young,”—deflecting his questions before he could ask more.
Ananta.
It was several years later that he learned what that name truly meant.
After his father’s funeral—on the day he unlocked the family library with the key that only the head of the household could possess.
[…When a child with silver hair and blue eyes is born, they shall be called ‘Ananta.’]
The name had been predetermined long, long ago.
And what he had inherited was not only the family title—
—but a curse.
A dreadful curse that began to consume him from that very day.
