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Chapter 20
Ah, damn.
Psyche looked at Aster with a face full of dismay. He was also looking at her, and their eyes met instantly.
A flicker of amusement passed over his blue eyes, then quickly vanished. She averted her gaze.
After the employee—who had poured out his anger over Melias’s departure, no, his farewell—left, their eyes met once again.
“I was hasty.”
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Would you grant me the chance to apologize for acting in an unladylike manner?”
“Gladly.”
Aster responded without hesitation, as if it were no big deal.
“I’m sorry. The truth is, I couldn’t accept your kindness for what it was. It was my fault for doubting you. The ring meant a lot to me.”
That ring had been an important item that helped Psyche hold herself together and survive.
She would take it out whenever she was happy, and also on days when it felt like she could barely breathe from sorrow.
“It was a gift from my father. A family heirloom passed down for generations.”
“No wonder you were anxious—it’s something precious.”
He nodded in understanding, as if he fully grasped her feelings.
“Yes, exactly. I hope you can forgive my rudeness.”
As Psyche continued her apology, the man smiled gently.
“I understand how you feel, Miss Psyche.”
“Thank you. Actually… I’ve been receiving letters from my father. Since the day I left with you, I got one saying he had begun to regain his strength.”
“……”
With the Duke’s help—more precisely, his financial support—her father had received quality medical treatment.
“And belatedly, after accepting reality, he seems to have decided to get out of bed.”
She recalled a line from one of her father’s letters:
> “They say my condition has greatly improved. I might be able to stop treatment soon. So Psyche, come home when that time comes.”
But the promise she made with the Duke was for one year.
Even if she wanted to return to her parents after that year, she wouldn’t be able to.
Her father knew this, which was why he was lying. Hoping that Psyche, who left to afford the treatment, would come back.
“My father once told me things like, ‘Psyche, I have high expectations for you,’ and, ‘You’re truly worthy of inheriting the viscountcy.’”
The messenger quietly listened to her. Her soft voice flowed gently through the air.
“I worry that I’ve let him down. I’ve never replied to even one of his letters, sent out of concern for me.”
“……”
“I say I did all this for his sake, but in truth, I ran away without even speaking to him once.”
She was ashamed.
She resented herself for deceiving her father and leaving him.
She had once vowed to tell only the truth to her father, even if she had to lie to God—but that vow had crumbled. And at that moment, she sensed a small crack forming in the identity she had built her entire life.
“Miss Psyche.”
“……”
“No one else could have acted the way you did in that situation.”
His face was still as expressionless as ever, his tone flat but certain.
“Just being engaged to the ‘monster’ was an act of courage.”
To hear a loyal man call him a ‘monster’—
Psyche found it strange. And at the same time, she felt an inexplicable discomfort.
“I’m not so sure. The rumors about him being a monster… I think they’re just part of an excessive fascination with him. It’s an ungentlemanly expression. I don’t think of him as a monster.”
“But you haven’t actually seen him in person, have you?”
“I can’t say I haven’t seen him at all.”
One doesn’t need to use their eyes to understand something. If you’re willing to feel, to realize, you can come to know.
Aster said nothing, only stared at her. When he saw determination flash through her eyes, he smiled softly.
“Miss Psyche.”
Her name again.
Though she had allowed it, hearing her name from the messenger’s lips gave her a strange feeling.
“By the way, aren’t you curious how I found this scarf?”
That was true—he had retrieved the scarf that had been blown far away by the wind.
How?
Could he have really found it by chance, as he claimed?
The odds of that were like surviving a lightning strike. Nearly impossible, though not entirely.
“Was it magic again this time?”
There were too many strange things. Especially the earring on his ear. It was so tiny that one wouldn’t notice it without looking closely.
At first, she assumed it was just an accessory. But every time the man’s emotions stirred, it shimmered.
“Your earring… it glows. Just faintly, but it glows.”
The more these strange coincidences piled up, the more certain Psyche became: he might be a magician.
That odd feeling of familiarity she had when she was with him—
If this world really did contain magicians, and if this man in front of her was one, it would make sense.
“So when you said you weren’t a magician, was that all a lie?”
As Psyche asked, the earring on the man’s ear began to shimmer again.
The man looked at her with a blank expression, as though he wanted to see just how far her imagination would go.
“You’re right—this is a magical artifact.”
He slowly ran his finger along his earlobe. His straight finger brushed across the earring and slid past it.
“But I’m not a magician.”
“You use a magical artifact, but you’re not a magician?”
“Anyone can use an item imbued with a spell. Just like how candy stores sell enchanted sweets.”
In the Cigard Empire, magic was considered a fantasy—something that only existed in fairy tales.
If Psyche were to say, “Magicians are real,” back in Cigard, people would call her mad and lock her up in a monastery.
So she had no way of knowing whether the man was telling the truth.
‘But the Duke also used magic…’
So it probably wasn’t a lie.
As she just stared at him, unable to confirm or deny anything, the messenger leaned forward slightly toward her.
“It’s also true that, due to magic’s side effects, the earring glows when something catches my interest.”
A fatal flaw—his emotions show.
He added quietly, his lips curling slightly.
“I am a knight under the Duke’s household.”
The messenger finally began to reveal his identity.
“I’m currently part of the knight order.”
That’s a lie.
“However, since I serve the Duke closely, my affiliation with the elite knight order isn’t publicly known.”
Is that a lie too?
“This earring is a required artifact for elite knights. It’s a tracking tool made to ensure we fulfill our missions properly.”
Psyche pressed her lips tightly together.
The man continued to mix truth and falsehood effortlessly, his soft smile never wavering.
“Let’s head back now. I’ll summon your carriage again today.”
Sparkle.
Once again, the man’s earring glowed—then dimmed.
—
Later…
As the cold twilight poured through the windows, the handsome man threw his leather gloves onto the desk in frustration.
The golden sunset had faded, and dim light now bathed the world. He stared at the light filtering through the window glass.
Eventually, the deep blue of his eyes began to dull. The once-clear eyes—like autumn skies—had become cloudy.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can keep deceiving Lady Psyche any longer.”
He kept his head bowed as he looked at the terrified woman. His pupils dilated, then instantly narrowed to slits.
“I don’t mean that I won’t serve her anymore. Just…”
“Just?”
“I’m afraid that someone so pure might end up with an irreparable wound—and come to hate this place.”
“What does Psyche Clement’s hatred for this place have to do with your resolve? Your master is me. Not that naïve young lady.”
“I apologize. But if she learns the truth later, her life in the Grand Duchy will only be miserable.”
The man let out a low chuckle. It was clearly one of scorn.
“She’s a woman from the Cigard
Empire. The same place where your parents came back torn to pieces.”
“……”
“And in front of that noble lady, you are to be addressed as ‘Sir Aster.’ Understood, Marie?”
