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Chapter 18
There was a faint hint of laughter at the end of his voice.
Psyche had imagined this moment countless times. She had even mapped out the best routes for escape, preparing for the worst-case scenario where she might have to flee.
Of course, the Grand Duke’s voice sounded entirely normal—too normal for someone rumored to be a monstrous creature.
“…It’s been a month since our engagement, and this is your first time coming here. It’s only natural I might question whether you truly are the Grand Duke.”
“So it was a scolding after all.”
Psyche hadn’t meant to scold him. In truth, she would have preferred if he had never come at all.
She was about to explain that she didn’t mean it that way, but then noticed the amusement in his voice and quietly closed her mouth.
Silence, as deep and heavy as the darkness between them, settled over the room.
“Did you enjoy the visit to the harbor?”
The Grand Duke suddenly asked.
His calm question cut through the dark, sounding like something a long-time acquaintance might ask.
“Thanks to your Grace’s consideration, I had a lovely time.”
“I see.”
He answered indifferently. It seemed he wasn’t actually interested in her well-being.
“Have you experienced any fever since coming here?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“For a noble lady who spent her life in a warm climate, the cold here must be harsh. That’s surprising.”
His voice was unexpectedly pleasant.
It was low, like the sound of a cello, yet soft. His accent was so calm and elegant that it felt more like listening to music than speech.
Just from his voice alone, Psyche thought—this man couldn’t possibly be the monster people claimed him to be.
How could a monster have such a gentle voice? The rumor was completely absurd.
“If you’ve been lucky so far, be careful going forward, my lady. The weather here is nothing like the Empire’s.”
As he warned her, Psyche recalled the blue-eyed envoy.
> “Fevers here are vicious. Once it hits you, the cough might become permanent.”
Though she had enjoyed her time with him, that envoy had ultimately been a spy—eyes and ears planted to watch her.
All of this was likely the thought of the man standing beside her in the dark.
In the darkness, a shadow moved.
He began drawing closer to her.
As if he would swallow her whole, trapping her in the thick darkness.
Psyche instinctively recalled the escape path she had planned.
The headboard was at her back. Ten steps along the wall would bring her to a window.
But the room was high up—fifth floor, at least. Jumping from the window would leave her seriously injured, if not worse.
As these thoughts ran through her mind, she realized the Grand Duke had gotten very close. Even in the dark, his looming shadow seemed to swell, ready to engulf her.
“You have a fever, my lady.”
Contrary to her fears, he placed his hand gently on her forehead.
His palm, more than large enough to cover her forehead, radiated a soft warmth.
“Ah…”
The tension in Psyche melted instantly. His touch was far kinder than she’d expected.
“I’m fine, Your Grace.”
She could feel the heat rising from her own skin. Her eyelids felt heavy, threatening to shut.
But she dismissed it as simple fatigue. A long day, finally winding down.
“I told you to be careful not to fall ill. This was careless.”
Unlike the warmth of his hand, his voice in the air was cold.
“This is the first time I’ve heard you express concern, Your Grace… and I wasn’t exactly warned.”
At her reply, he gave a short, dry laugh. He didn’t hide his displeasure at her cheeky answer.
“You mean to say you haven’t heard the rumors about me?”
His tone was now clearly mocking.
Psyche began to notice that his accent was becoming harder to understand—more foreign, more layered with subtle tones.
Although the Grand Duchy and the Cigard Empire shared a common language, their regional accents could still cause confusion.
“Of course I’ve heard. Some say you look like a monster. Aren’t you afraid of me?”
He assumed she must know the rumors. And she did.
“I am afraid.”
How could she not be, hearing rumors of a man who looked like a hideous beast? But Psyche had endured far worse things than that.
Scraping by each day, calculating every coin, having to stop her father’s treatment because of money…
“But fearing the man I’m already engaged to would be more foolish than anything else.”
Besides, her fiancé—this supposed monster—didn’t seem so terrifying now.
A warm touch, a beautiful voice, and that subtle scent of flowers that followed his every move.
Though Psyche feared the man who had finally come to see her after a month, paradoxically, her curiosity about him was growing stronger.
“Then you’re saying… you’re not afraid of me after all?”
His voice, tinged with a faint smile, moved closer. Heat spread from his fingers resting on the sheet to hers.
The warmth of his index finger traced her hand, lingering on the back of it. Then it coiled around her wrist.
“….”
Psyche shut her eyes and held her breath.
She had expected this. She knew this moment would come. She had steeled herself for it.
She tensed the arm he held. Her fingers clenched the sheets so tightly they crumpled. A quiet laugh came from the darkness.
“Why don’t you scream?”
“…”
“So you are scared. Don’t lie to me, my lady. Breathe.”
He let go.
Psyche didn’t respond.
“I’ll call for a doctor at dawn.”
“I’m really fi—ah!”
She began to protest, but suddenly her body floated off the bed, weightless.
‘Am I dreaming?’
Before she could fully comprehend the situation—
She was gently placed back under the blanket, her head on the pillow, tucked in all the way up to her chin.
“Sweet dreams, my lady.”
A snap echoed—his fingers.
And just like magic, drowsiness washed over her, her heavy eyelids fluttering shut.
—
A cool light tickled her eyelids.
It was the chill of early dawn. The sun was rising, and its faint blue hue stirred her from sleep.
Still half-dreaming, Psyche instinctively reached around her. The space beside her was cold.
It felt as if everything last night had been a dream. Like no one had ever been there.
“…Was it just a dream?”
She muttered and let out a hollow laugh.
Turning toward the window, she saw a hazy sky and felt the damp air.
The curtains had been drawn—so it wasn’t her imagination.
Maybe it was the morning sun after so long, but her body felt lighter.
As she sat up, something fell onto her lap.
A handkerchief?
It had likely fallen from her forehead; strands of hair were stuck to her skin.
She touched her lukewarm forehead, then picked up the cloth. A small flower was embroidered along the edge.
She didn’t know exactly what had happened—but one thing was certain: she felt better.
Psyche knew it was thanks to the handkerchief. Someone had been by her side through the night, lowering her fever.
Remembering the Grand Duke’s visit, she recalled how her body had been lifted into the air.
“…A magician.”
She remembered what the Grand Duke’s envoy had once told her:
> “There’s a place called the Trail of Butterflies… a strange shop selling candy… Some in the Grand Duchy can use magic.”
She had believed half of it—and dismissed the rest. It didn’t fit within her understanding of the world.
But now… she believed it all.
After all, in the entire month the Grand Duke hadn’t come, she had never once slept soundly.
—
They say a blizzard is always preceded by howling winds.
The streets emptied as a fierce wind whipped through.
The air felt as though snow might fall at any moment. Thump, thump—the wind pounded against the windows.
Psyche turned her head away from the wildly shaking trees.
She took a deep breath, her
expression determined.
“Please give it back. I know you took it.”
“…Miss Psyche?”
“I came by here a few days ago. The staff member who served our table told me—they saw you place a necklace with a ring into your pocket.”
