Chapter 33  

“Are you awake?”

A hard chair pressed against her hips, cheap curtains with rough texture, and a window behind them where rain poured down.

Psyche slowly looked around and then blinked.

“We’re in a carriage. It’s cold.”

The moment she spoke, the man’s pupils widened slightly—then he suddenly let out a small laugh.

“Are you cold?”

His blue eyes fell on Psyche’s cheek.

He lifted the back of his hand to her face. His warm skin brushed against her.

“Ah.”

The instant he touched her, her temperature rose sharply—like she had been burned. Her heartbeat stumbled out of rhythm, and Psyche let out a small breath and turned away.

“It isn’t a deep wound, but Lady Psyche, you have a scratch on your cheek. It won’t leave a scar.”

Was her heart racing because the wound hurt?

Psyche blinked rapidly and stared outside. When she moved the curtain, she saw an empty, quiet street.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Psyche had been shocked, but she had no serious injuries.

There were marks on her arms and legs from being tied, and her cheek was swollen from the head maid’s blow.

But even those small wounds seemed to trouble the man. His expression looked almost restless as he stared at her.

“It was a strange experience, but I’m all right. If anything else hurts, I’ll know later.”

She wasn’t fine—but Psyche forced herself to speak calmly.

Aster must have sensed her feelings because he didn’t ask further.

“Yes, I did some basic treatment, but the wound may hurt if it opens again. Even if you have no visible injuries, you may have internal ones. I’ll inform the Grand Duke’s personal doctor.”

“Basic treatment?”

Psyche touched her cheek. As he said, something sticky came off on her fingers.

“Don’t touch it. It may get worse.”

“But…”

Psyche trailed off and looked at him quietly.

“You also changed my clothes.”

“…Ah.”

She had definitely been shivering in only a thin slip.

But now her clothes were neat—Psyche felt embarrassed.

The man also looked unusually flustered. His usually pale earlobes were faintly red.

“I called a maid urgently. I did not touch your body, Lady Psyche.”

At those words, Psyche felt heat rise to the back of her neck again.

What kind of misunderstanding is this…?

Feeling awkward looking at Aster, Psyche quickly turned her eyes back outside.

“That happened earlier because I left for too long.”

Aster spoke in a voice filled with guilt. His expression was dark, as if to reflect his feelings.

He wasn’t someone whose expression changed often. Even when annoyed, he kept a blank face, and even when pleased, he looked the same.

“It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault.”

It would be a lie to say she hadn’t been frightened.

The Grand Duchy was far from the Cigar Empire—how had the head maid come all the way here?

And the head maid had lived in the Clement household since Psyche was little. She had risen step by step to become head maid. Psyche disliked her at times, but she also couldn’t fully hate her.

“How could the head maid do something like this?”

Psyche couldn’t shake off the unanswered question—the one the head maid refused to reveal.

No matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t understand.

Before the head maid left, Psyche had given her a large sum as severance pay—more than necessary. There had been trouble, but Psyche truly wished she would live well anywhere. It was also gratitude for her long service to the Clement family.

Still, the head maid could have held onto resentment.

Psyche had corrected her wrongdoing, and the punishment had been fair.

Her feelings, however, were beyond Psyche’s control.

The man seemed to understand her confusion. Then he handed her a small box.

“Ah, Lady Psyche.”

He opened the box. Inside was—

“You washed it already?”

“It didn’t take long.”

It was the handkerchief Psyche had given him.

She took it and smiled gently.

“Thank you. It’s clean again.”

The messenger looked at Psyche with his usual expressionless face.

Then he slowly spoke.

“After the heavy snow passes, the weather will warm for a short while. When that time comes, I plan to personally escort the Count Clement and his wife here.”

“Yes, I’ll let them know in advance.”

“Before that, the wound on your cheek must heal completely.”

At that moment, sudden rain poured down.

Swaaah—

Just as he said, as if the weather had warmed, what should have been snow was falling as rain.

Psyche watched the heavy rain that blurred the view and then touched the back of her hand.

When her fingers brushed the injured skin, a dull ache ran through it.

* *

Dim light seeped into a small space while slow footsteps echoed inside.

“You idiot. When did I tell you to kill her? If you were going to kill her, you should’ve done it cleanly. How did you get beaten by a fragile girl like that?”

The owner of the footsteps removed his hood and approached the woman.

Her hands and feet were tied with restraints, and she crawled on the floor, letting out weak, choking sounds as if begging for help.

“Oh, you can’t speak? Seems magic was used on the restraints. Not many people leave such traces.”

Under the scattered light, his face came into view.

“I even removed the guard that girl always keeps with her—so you could do whatever you wanted. And this is all you managed?”

He grinned in a disturbing way, like a child finding a new toy.

“Where should I hurt you this time? Your head? Or that tongue? Maybe pulling out your teeth one by one will make you think clearly.”

“…Ugh!”

“At first, I thought Psyche’s attacker ruined your face.”

He stroked the woman’s chin with his finger. Her muffled cries shook the air.

“Unfortunately for you, that was me. Surprised?”

“Ugh—! Ugh!”

“I even spared your life out of mercy, and you wasted the chance. I don’t give more than two. One might be a mistake—but a second is never a mistake.”

Or maybe he had no intention of fixing a mistake.

He added that quietly, then sighed deeply, as if nothing was going his way.

Then, talking to himself as if he didn’t mind, he continued speaking.

“Anyway, because of you, my brother—my dear brother—misunderstood me. I wasn’t planning to kill anyone. So what now? Hmm? If you can speak, you should answer.”

In the middle of recalling events, he suddenly grew angry and ran his hand through his hair roughly.

Even that didn’t release his frustration—he punched the wall.

Bang!

The ground trembled, and blood began dripping from his knuckles.

The woman, desperately crawling to escape, finally began to sob. But even her crying was muffled by the magic and barely came out.

It was a simple spell, yet unusually precise and cruel. Anyone could guess who had cast it. It was a trace left by the man who chased targets like a feral hunting dog.

“Kill her now.”

Soon, the woman’s dying screams echoed.

The man walked out into the street, as if he were used to scenes like this, rubbing his neck.

“Great. My ice melted already.”

He looked down at the cup in his hand and clicked his tongue.