“Are you alright?”

She couldn’t deceive the eyes of a father who always worried about and cherished his daughter. Caela smiled bravely at her father who came over and asked quietly.

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather. I’ll be fine.”

“You must have overdone it. Do you have medicine?”

“I took some.”

The hastily procured medicine had no effect at all. She started feeling severe fever and body aches.

What if this happens from the first day of the event? She sighed, but still did what she had to do. What else could she do? She had to endure as always.

The emperor, whether depressed because of the empress or using health as an excuse, slipped out midway. Prince Elcanan had a long chat with Duke Ostain. And Beatrice Laval was again sticking close to Peon.

“Peon, let me greet that prince too.”

Peon swiftly grabbed a drink from a golden tray of a passing servant and handed it to Beatrice.

“Just drink this for now.”

He blocked Beatrice’s mouth with the drink and hid his displeasure.

But Caela, watching from afar, turned her head away. It’s better not to see such scenes when feeling dizzy. There was nothing new about it. He always took care of Beatrice without fail.

“It was so much fun today!”

“Thank you for the grand banquet, Your Highness.”

“Not at all, Your Highness. It’s all thanks to His Majesty’s attention.”

Although her breathing was becoming increasingly labored, Caela gave her best until the very end.

Duke Ostain would be working late at the imperial palace today. The talks with Kerujan were just about to begin in earnest. Leaning against the main entrance of the now empty banquet hall, she exhaled hot breaths as her fever rose higher.

She had done everything she needed to. In any case, this event hosted by the Duchess of Ostain would be evaluated as consistently successful, and Duke Ostain’s reputation would rise.

It would be fortunate if her father could become at least a reliable aide to the emperor. Then the possibility of being killed would be slightly lower.

“Excuse me, Your Highness.”

She held her head and turned to the side. There stood a knight she already knew, but ‘now’ didn’t know, politely holding out a cloak.

“I am Renard, a knight under His Grace the Grand Duke of Lucenford. His Grace was concerned that Your Highness’s attire was thin and sent this.”

He sent the soft cloak he had been wearing today, neatly folded, through his knight. He was always like this before he died.

If she looked unwell, he would immediately send a message telling her to go rest, or say just one word and turn away. When she was sick in bed, he never visited. If it seemed like she needed something, he would at most send Sir Renard or Sir Wilberk to bring it.

The only person he personally took care of was Beatrice Laval. He would personally offer her drinks and give her everything, while only sending subordinates to Caela.

That was probably meant to be special treatment, while at the same time telling Caela ‘it’s not you’, but Caela glared at the cloak, biting her lip tightly.

If it’s ‘not you’, he shouldn’t have sent even this. He shouldn’t have said things like being worried because her clothes were thin.

“Sir Renard. Guide me to His Grace.”

“Pardon?”

“Hurry. Lead the way.”

She just wanted to collapse and sleep, and her body condition demanded it, but she followed Sir Renard, who always brought her “something His Grace asked to be delivered”, towards Peon.

It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a secret meeting with Beatrice Laval. Caela couldn’t tell if the heat spreading through her body was due to the flu or the wounded and twisted victim mentality.

It would have been better if Peon had been with Beatrice. Then she could have clearly drawn the line in front of both of them. But unfortunately, he was quietly conversing with one of his knights.

“Your Grace.”

Peon looked at Caela approaching briskly with surprised eyes.

Her face was about to turn red from the fever, and she should have gone to rest quickly, but she came just like that in her dress with bare shoulders, without even accepting the neatly folded cloak from Sir Renard. She had a clearly angry expression.

“Do you pity me?”

“What?”

Caela’s eyes, praised as so blue they seemed to contain the sky, showed moisture from the fever.

No, had he made her cry? Caela snatched the cloak Sir Renard was holding and thrust it at Peon. No, she just pressed it against his arm.

Peon was very flustered, as Caela had never acted so rudely towards him before.

“I asked if you pity me.”

“Caela.”

What’s going on? As the atmosphere became ominous, the maid following Caela and Peon’s knights slowly backed away.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you send these things through your subordinates?”

Her voice wasn’t coming out properly due to illness. So Caela strained her throat to speak even more clearly. As a result, her voice targeted Peon even more sharply and fiercely. He accepted the cloak Caela was thrusting at him.

“Caela.”

“Did you want to give me even this much because you pity me, by sending it through your subordinate?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then why give it?”

The strength drained from her questioning voice. Tired and worn out, Caela asked.

“Why?”

Why was he seemingly unkind yet kind? He was probably kind from their first meeting, which she couldn’t remember because it was so long ago.

He waited for Caela who followed him saying “let’s go together” even though he seemed annoyed, he helped her up when she fell, and after that, he held her hand.

Even after going to Lucenford, he faithfully replied to her crooked letters, and when they occasionally met at the imperial palace, he was still her unchanged first love.

However, the feelings built up through such kindness and affection were, regrettably, entirely one-sided. The line was drawn only up to here.

The moment Caela sat in the Grand Duchess position that should have been Beatrice’s, whether it was Caela’s own will or not, Peon treated even their childhood memories as if they never existed.

“Are you watching how I react?”

That was so ridiculous and absurd it made her laugh. What was all that kindness he showed Caela in the past to the man who didn’t even keep the slightest courtesy and confined her?

Was she treated well because she was the Duchess of Ostain, but became nothing the moment that connection was severed? Was she pitied so much that he gave her charity?

What memories were there in Lucenford? It seems her husband who didn’t look at her occasionally took care of something. But that was just false hope for her.

In the end, Caela was confined by Peon anyway. If there had been fond childhood memories, a person couldn’t have done that. He should have listened to her claim of injustice at least once.

“Is it funny?”

The years of affectionately calling him “elder brother” are forgotten and can’t be remembered. The way of speaking to the Grand Duke of Lucenford who thoroughly tried to exclude her is more familiar than the way of speaking back then. The speech styles seem all mixed up.

“If my goodwill offended you…”

“Is it just enough to send through someone else, not worth bringing directly yourself?”

“Caela.”

There were times when she held back words she wanted to say, afraid of being hated by him, wanting to appear as a better person even a little. There were many such times.

“You always send things to me through people, never bringing them directly yourself.”

Did she die from holding back too much? Now words she wanted to say burst out. No, she felt she couldn’t stand it without saying them.

“Sending things to someone you don’t want to face is what you do when giving charity. If Your Highness didn’t want to come in person even though we’re at the same event, you shouldn’t have sent anything at all.”

How far is it from here to where Caela is, that he sends it through a knight?

In Lucenford, she was happy with the small items Sir Renard brought, only to realize later. Peon roughly played the role of husband with that, without even seeing the face of the Grand Duchess he didn’t want to see.

Peon treated her like that even before they got married.

“You always do that to me, am I that pitiful and ridiculous to you?”

Now she felt chills to the point her teeth chattered and her head throbbed, but Caela tried hard to look straight at Peon with blurry vision.

Though she knew he wasn’t exactly the husband who killed her, the fact that he was consistently like this even before marriage made Caela feel needlessly sad. Mixed memories and high fever numbed her reason.

“Don’t pity me. I’m not at the level to receive Your Highness’s pity!”

Out of pity, though she was rightfully his wife, she was treated like a beggar begging for affection outside that door.

After saying forcefully to Peon, who was unchanged before her death and now, Caela immediately turned around. The knight and maid of the Ostain family who had been standing far away followed her hurriedly, hiding their surprised expressions.

Caela, who had never been equal to her husband, the noble Duchess of Ostain, dragged her tired and aching body that was exhausted even just taking steps. Her fever was so high she felt dizzy.

Was she upset this time seeing the familiar sight of Peon, who had spared her father’s life, seeming to draw the line with Beatrice but ultimately taking care of her? It’s ridiculous that she still hasn’t come to her senses. Though ridiculous, she felt sad and her eyes stung and burned hotly.

“My lady.”

“I’m going home.”

Her head was spinning so much that she had no choice but to go home now. She forced herself to move her feet.

This was completely over with Peon at this age of twenty-one. Since the smiling little sister he knew had gotten serious, he probably wouldn’t see her again. That’s all their relationship amounted to. A one-sided relationship that Caela, with many regrets, forcibly held onto and maintained.

“That’s not…”

Another voice calling her was louder than the knight’s words of restraint.

“…ela, Duchess! Duchess of Ostain!”

It was Peon’s voice, instantly recognizable even from afar.

Is he really going to do this? Caela bit her lip hard and stopped to confront him once more. But before she could turn to face him, the heavy and warm cloak was draped over her chilly shoulders first. Her whole body was enveloped in thick warmth.

“Duchess.”

The handsome face with distinct eyes and nose bridge, inheriting the famous beauty of the Empress, was contorted in great distress as he looked down at her.

“I have committed a discourtesy.”

For the first time ever, Caela received an apology from the man who had always ignored her whether she cried or spoke sternly. Even his manner of speech had changed. Caela was so surprised she was at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry. I had no intention of hurting the Duchess’s feelings.”

The deeply apologetic expression was clearly sincere. It was this easy to receive an apology from Peon and have his attitude change. The belated thought that she should have confronted him earlier crossed her mind.

If she had confronted Peon and gotten angry instead of waiting silently in Lucenford, would he have understood? No, by then she was already the Grand Duchess who had stolen the detestable Beatrice’s position, so even if she had gotten angry, he probably would have thought her impudent?

As Caela was thinking this, Peon apologized politely and formally.

“I was trying to avoid people’s gazes in case any uncomfortable rumors spread, but my thinking was very short-sighted. I’m sorry.”

In an instant, the honorifics, formality, and manner of speech all went up. He treated Caela exactly as she treated him. Moreover, the content of the apology was reasonable.

Indeed, would a man in love with Beatrice want to be more entangled with Caela when the Emperor had already hinted that Caela would be a good match for him? She lowered her gaze. The blur in her vision was due to the fever. It couldn’t be because her heart was aching.

“If you’ll forgive me, I’d like to escort you to your residence. Please allow me.”

For the Grand Duke of Lucenford, the Duchess of Ostain was someone he absolutely did not want to be involved with from beginning to end. She confirmed this once again.

The connection she had been forcibly holding onto slipped helplessly and completely through her fingertips.

*

Her fever was so high she was barely conscious. Her face must have been unpleasantly flushed.

But after daring to confront Peon one-sidedly for the first time in her life, did it matter whether her face was red or blue?

Caela lowered her gaze. Her husband, who had always ridden on horseback outside the carriage, rode together with her in the same carriage for the first time.

Clip-clop, clip-clop, the horses quietly traversed the darkness-shrouded streets of Klein. Knights from both the Lucenford and Ostain houses escorted the carriage.

The Duchess of Ostain’s breathing was wheezy. Though she had a severe cold, not a single hair was out of place.

Somehow, it felt like she still hadn’t left the bone-chilling cold of Lucenford. It was as if she alone was trapped in an eternal winter.

“I apologize for hurting your feelings by conveying things separately to avoid strange rumors about being entangled with me. I’m sorry.”

Another apology was delivered politely in perfect military speech. With this, the childhood between them was completely erased. Caela smiled faintly.

“No one would spread such rumors, Your Grace.”

Now her whole body ached as if it had been beaten. Because it hurt, she could say hurtful things without caring.

“Everyone in Crania knows who Your Grace is in love with.”

Even after marriage, the Grand Duchess was neglected, so the Grand Duke’s passionate and almost obsessive love for Beatrice was famous. Caela felt another stabbing pain behind her eyes.

“Who would dare spread rumors linking someone like me with Your Grace?”

Though she had wished for it so much, it was already decided that Caela would never receive even a glance from this man. She had tried hard, but now she was too tired from trying too hard.

“No one would believe such rumors.”

It was only after her death that she finally put a definitive end to her foolish one-sided love. She had been so stupid.