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Chapter 19
“I’m not interested in your background. What I want… is you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Ugh. Your Grace, you haven’t given me a single clear answer to any of my questions yet, you know that, right?”
“Have I not?”
Though he said that, Killian tilted his head slightly, casually dodging the question.
“Well, regardless of my answer, the situation isn’t so bad for you either, is it?”
Like a beast unable to forget the taste of its prey, Killian couldn’t pass by Leticia’s swaying hair without wrapping it around his fingers again, just like yesterday.
That sensation, precariously caught in his grasp like it might slip away at any moment, was surprisingly satisfying.
“Now that your engagement with Young Lord Godwin has been broken, you’ll end up going to a convent anyway. Isn’t the North a better option than some dreary place like that?”
If he applied pressure now, would she crumble like a delicate petal?
Killian’s hand, gripped by a strange impulse, showed the veins rising subtly along the back.
“I have no intention of canceling this marriage, so don’t waste your energy resisting. Instead, use me to your advantage.”
“Use you?”
“Yes. I can be quite useful, you know. I’m capable of more than I look.”
Suppressing his instinct with effort, Killian let go of Leticia’s hair.
“Go ahead, make good use of me. Who knows, maybe through me, you’ll even find a way to cure your illness.”
Finishing his words, Killian stood up from where he had been leaning against the desk.
As he reached to unbutton his shirt before heading to the bathroom, a sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Leticia, too stunned to look away in time, just stared blankly at him.
“Hm.”
Killian’s calloused hand massaged the back of his neck.
“Unbuttoning my shirt is more than enough help. We may be married, but there’s no need for you to help me beyond that.”
“W-What?! I had no intention of helping you with that, Your Grace!”
Leticia’s face turned bright red and she quickly turned her back to him. She had no strength left to endure staying in that room any longer.
She was used to conversations filled with yelling and irritation. That was what communication had always been for her—so she didn’t know how to respond to someone like Killian.
Sure, Patrick had spoken kindly to her in his own way, but this was completely different.
At times, Killian seemed relaxed, yet also somehow fierce. He could be both dangerous and calm.
He was like the unpredictable waves of the open sea.
“Oh, and something’s been bothering me.”
Just as Leticia was about to flee toward the door, Killian followed and reached out to the doorknob before she could.
“That title—‘Your Grace’—don’t you think it’s time you changed it? We are married, after all. Wouldn’t using my name be more fitting?”
Click.
Killian gently turned the doorknob and stepped aside to let her pass.
“Next time we meet, call me Killian.”
✦
After returning from the townhouse to the Count of Esta’s estate, Leticia tried several more times to undo the marriage, but all attempts failed.
Eventually, worn out and frustrated, Leticia surrendered with a resigned sigh of acceptance.
From there, the marriage proceeded quickly and smoothly.
They had already received the Emperor’s approval, after all.
All that remained was to pack Leticia’s belongings and get formal consent from the Count of Esta.
Even that took little effort.
Leticia hardly had anything worth packing.
And being just a count, the Count of Esta couldn’t possibly go against a grand duke. His “consent” was no more than a formality—practically a forced notice.
To make things even easier, the count had been stuck in another region due to scheduling issues, so the consent arrived by letter.
In less than a week, Leticia’s preparations to leave for the North were nearly complete.
“…It all feels kind of hollow.”
Sitting idly in her room at the count’s estate, Leticia glanced around.
The room was large but contained only a bed, a vanity, and a desk. Bare essentials, nothing more.
It struck her how easy it was to leave this lonely room, one that the count had offered with the bare minimum of courtesy.
“So this is how it ends, huh…”
Leticia slowly laid her head down on the desk, a bitter taste spreading on her tongue.
“My lady, what are you doing now?”
Allen, who entered the room carrying a large box, looked at Leticia with worry.
“You seem preoccupied lately. Is something bothering you?”
“Bothering me? Not really.”
Leticia let out a small laugh at Allen’s warm tone.
“Anyway, you’re here again?”
“Yes! These are dresses that are popular in the capital right now! His Grace is so thoughtful, isn’t he? Contrary to the rumors!”
Struggling under the weight of the boxes, Allen carefully set them down.
Her nose a little red from excitement, Allen seemed genuinely thrilled.
Unlike her, Leticia looked toward the mountain of gift boxes stacked in one corner of the room and rubbed her temple.
“Allen. I didn’t realize my room was this small.”
Since that day, Killian had sent her a new gift every day.
When he asked what she wanted instead of art supplies and she said nothing, that only made things worse.
Now, her entire room was buried under gifts. Her own belongings were nowhere in sight.
“You’re so lucky to be marrying someone who cares for you so deeply, my lady!”
Unaware of Leticia’s conflicted thoughts, Allen wiped away tears, overcome with emotion.
“There won’t be a happier bride in the world than you! You’ll be smiling all the time now!”
“…”
Leticia watched Allen dab her tears with her sleeve.
That word—“now on”. The phrase that spoke of a hopeful future—reminded her of something Killian had said.
“Use me however you like. Who knows? I may help cure your illness.”
“…Cure my illness?”
Leticia’s rose-quartz-like eyes wandered aimlessly.
Is that even possible?
She had only a year left to live. Could an illness with no known cause really be cured in such a short time?
“…But I don’t even want that.”
Leticia, resting her chin on her hand with a skeptical expression, walked over to the bed and sank into it.
Honestly, this wasn’t so bad.
For the first time, she felt like she could breathe.
Ever since she survived in place of the countess, she had never known a day of peace. Every night brought nightmares, and even when she woke, the nightmare continued.
In every moment, Leticia had lived as a sinner.
That’s why she had accepted the accusations and resentment from Isis and the Count of Esta without protest.
Eventually, after being drained to her limit, the diagnosis had come—a terminal illness.
At first, she had felt angry and scared of death, but those feelings had passed quickly.
Soon, she had felt… relieved. Finally, she could rest. The fatigue that weighed down her entire body began to lift, little by little.
And now, someone was saying her illness could be cured?
The thought of continuing to live, of not being allowed to rest, was already suffocating.
“I don’t want that… I just… want to rest now.”
Muttering to herself, Leticia rubbed her face against the white pillow and stretched out her hand.
Her index finger brushed one of the paints Killian had gifted her from the townhouse, nestled among the pile of presents.
“If there’s anything else you want, just tell me.”
“Something I want…”
Leticia, toying idly with her fingers, pulled out a tube of yellow paint.
It was the same color as the flower on the cover of Killian’s braille notebook.
She rolled over and squeezed some of the paint onto her fingertip.
“The color’s pretty.”
The thick paint on her finger looked like a tiny flower bud.
“…Maybe I’ll try painting? I’ve always wanted to learn properly at least once.”
“My lady, you like painting?”
Allen, tidying up near the bed, perked up at Leticia’s mumbling.
“I never knew! You always just read books at the estate and never painted!”
“Huh? I wouldn’t say I like it.”
Delighted that Leticia had shown interest in something for the first time, Allen bounced on the spot.
“It’s just—I used to doodle a bit as a kid with a pencil on paper.”
Feeling burdened by Allen’s sparkling gaze, Leticia turned away slightly.
Still, Allen continued fussing and cleaning, unaffected by her reaction.
A chill breeze blew through the open window.
“Still! A lady who paints… it suits you so well—Oh! My lady! He’s here!”
“Huh? Who is?”
Leticia, who had been idly playing with the paint while waiting for Allen to calm down, slowly lifted her head.
Allen’s excited voice had an ominous tone—and sure enough, she came running over and pulled Leticia to her feet.
“His Grace! He’s here to see you!”
“His Grace? But he didn’t say he was visiting today…”
“Oh, come on! Don’t just lie there! Get up! You need to change and freshen up!”
“…There’s no need.”
Those pale, indifferent blue eyes that seemed uninterested in the world…
Leticia remembered the expression in Killian’s eyes.
“Whatever I wear, he won’t care. Just tidy me up a little, Allen. Nothing fancy.”
“What?! No way His Grace wouldn’t care!”
But Allen, who firmly believed the rumor that “the Grand Duke of Heverus fell in love with Lady Esta at first sight and proposed,” shook her head fiercely.
Full of enthusiasm, Allen successfully dragged Leticia out of bed and proudly brought over the dress Killian had sent that day.
“My lady! His Grace will be so pleased if you wear this! And for your hair, let’s use that hairpin from the other day—”
But before Allen could finish planning the outfit, a crisp knock came at the door.
“My lady, the Grand Duke is here to see you.”
