Until that day, Natasha’s illness did not improve.

As it had been so far, the future did not change. For several days, Natasha was deathly ill with a fever that wouldn’t break, just like in her past life.

A few days later, while Natasha was bedridden, the Empire’s Victory Day approached. Today was a great day to commemorate the Empire’s achievements. Every region held boisterous festivals celebrating victory and peace.

The northern region of Britain, where they belonged, was no exception. However, the Asthart duchy was the only place to cancel the festivities. Though no official reason was given, all the servants and citizens implicitly knew it was out of consideration for the newly welcomed duchess.

Because today was the day the entire family of the Asthart duchess, favored by the duke, had died.

It was the day when the beheaded royals’ heads were displayed like exhibits on the walls of Letius Imperial Palace, when the long-standing royal family finally announced its downfall, and the Charliee Kingdom disappeared into history.

Left alone in the room, Natasha gasped for breath. The unfamiliar headache persisted.

“Haa, haa…”

The sound of fireworks could be heard through her muffled ears. Her heart raced at the series of brilliant explosions. Her startled mouth released rapid breaths. Shallow moans mixed in here and there between the rough breathing.

The moment she became aware of everything, a headache surged. The inside of her head pulsed to the ticking of the clock.

Tick tock tick tock. Tick tock tick tock…

Strange. The clock sound shouldn’t be this loud. The noise dominating her mind connected to indescribable pain.

‘It hurts, I need painkillers…’

Her delicate hand trembled as she reached out. Fumbling with her fingers, she accidentally knocked over the medicine pouch. The weakly pushed pouch fell to the floor in succession.

Crash!

The sound of glass breaking followed, likely from colliding with the water glass placed beside her. The sharp sound echoed in her ears repeatedly. It mixed into the incessant ticking of the clock.

Tick tock tick tock.

Tick tock tick tock…

By now, she couldn’t tell if it was an auditory hallucination or real.

“Haa, haa…”

Natasha, breathing rapidly, turned her head to the side. The transparent liquid pooled in her eyes helplessly rolled down her cheeks.

‘Daughter, you foolish daughter. How dare you try to betray us. Will you continue to act so foolishly even in death?’

‘To think the most foolish one survived, how utterly despairing.’

Terrible voices invaded between her vibrating skull.

‘Stay with me at the Asthart duchy. I will protect the princess from death and poverty.’

Another voice had joined in by now. It was an auditory hallucination mimicking the voice of the person she found most distressing.

The voice. That damned voice. The terrible voice repeating the words he had thrown at Natasha in the past…

‘What do you think could be the reason for desiring a marriage with nothing to gain so desperately, Princess?’

‘Not kissing at the ceremony was a form of consideration. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to control my lust and would defile the princess in front of everyone.’

The voice continued unabated. From their first meeting to when she entered the duke’s mansion.

Continuously.

‘Let’s hear the story another time. I’d like you to go back today, Princess.’

‘It’s an unknown matter. As they say, you’re a wench who’s lived among impure blood.’

Sieghart was infinitely cold. He was perfunctory, as if even speaking at length to someone as insignificant as her was troublesome.

His dry and chilling voice struck Natasha’s heart repeatedly. She thought she had gotten used to it, but she was wrong. The mistreatment from the man she had loved always scraped at her heart. Her heart ached as if it was being carved out and about to burst.

The gradually diminishing voice signaled its end. The man with the cold expression who had been swallowing her dark vision seemed to disappear along with it.

As she slowly exhaled, another voice greeted her. It was a kind and gentle voice.

‘I’m honored that you accepted the sudden proposal so quickly. Thanks to that, I was able to be with the princess sooner.’

‘Tisha, you will come to love me.’

‘The merits and honors bestowed upon me, the grace and blessings given by God. This miracle that I dare not speak of—I dedicate it to the new mistress of Asthart, Natasha Asthart.’

Though the voice had the same pitch and similar tone, it was different enough to be considered separate. It was evidence that reminded her anew that the two men were completely different people.

It seemed to reproach Natasha for hating the wrong person. As if to say there was no use in resenting and hating an innocent lamb.

“Ah, ah, no…”

Natasha vehemently denied it, though there was no need to respond.

No.

It’s okay to hate him. Hadn’t Natasha also been hated by him without reason? Hadn’t she always been abandoned even when he whispered words of love?

So, Natasha too…

Ten regressions. The voices of her family that had constantly tormented Natasha, filled with resentment.

Tired of the tragedy, even her guilt towards her family had faded. It seemed the exhausted Natasha was finally escaping the persistent fever.

But as if she hadn’t been liberated from the man, a cruel voice engulfed Natasha.

When Natasha, who had fallen asleep as if collapsing, opened her eyes, the dim night sky filled her vision.

The visible windows multiplied at will. They became two, then four, and at times up to ten.

‘I should call Cayena…’

Natasha was about to reach out. Her hand, unable to reach the bell pull, flailed in the air.

Normally, just tapping the bed would be enough of a signal, but due to the commotion outside, such a shortcut didn’t work.

Just as her barely gathered consciousness was about to blur again.

Footsteps were heard from outside. The sound that appeared, carrying a refined beauty, approached quite familiarly.

‘Sieghart…?’

Was the auditory hallucination now replicating not just his voice, but his footsteps too? Natasha tightly covered both ears with her pillowcase, praying over and over for the sound to stop quickly.

When she opened her eyes again, a dark figure was looming in front of her. The form leaning loosely against the pillar moved slowly. There was nothing visibly apparent on the body hidden in darkness. However, it exuded an elegant atmosphere that immediately narrowed down the potential candidates.

Natasha stared blankly in that direction. Her chest, which had been rising and falling at regular intervals, temporarily stopped and flattened. Her fingers, which had been writhing in pain, were now neatly still on the sheet.

Before long, the form approached closer to the bed. As moonlight appeared to brightly illuminate one side, the red that defied the bluish light shone even more vividly.

It was looking down at the woman silently.

‘Not… not a hallucination.’

If it had been a hallucination, the man would have already transformed hideously into a monster. With his whole body swollen and features rearranged grotesquely, he would have been shouting at Natasha.

Like her family members depicted by the hallucinations.

Then Sieghart pulled out a chair and sat down. It was a very refined movement for a collapsed sleeping patient.

The man firmly grasped Natasha’s hand. He quietly drew the hand enclosed in his fist and pressed it under his lips. Then he muttered something.

‘Don’t be… sick?’

With each word, his lower lip parted and pursed. The gentle friction lingering on the back of her rounded hand and the movement of his jaw made it easy to guess the sentence the man had uttered.

Don’t be sick.

While treating what he held in his hand as if it were a treasure, Sieghart said so.

The person who would normally have noticed Natasha’s slight movements was now as dull as an ignorant commoner. He was busy praying to the heavens while holding their entwined hands to his chest.

He tended to the patient with utmost care. He wiped away the cold sweat Natasha had shed with a dry towel, and placed lukewarm water-soaked cloth on her forehead. He even gently sprinkled ground herbs onto her tongue.

The bitter taste of the herbs was familiar. The gentle touch was also somewhat familiar. Although it was clearly the first time Sieghart had cared for her, the situation itself felt like it wasn’t the first time she had experienced it.

‘That person?’

For a moment, someone came to mind. A person whose appearance, age, and identity she didn’t know.

‘The person who helped me…’

The benefactor from her first life who had nursed the duchess who was suffering alone with no one to help her.

‘Was it you, Sieghart?’

It was too much to be a simple coincidence, and she couldn’t dare to ignore it.

Recalling that time, Natasha finally opened her mouth. Though she couldn’t accurately remember what she had said, her lips parted on their own as if following a set procedure and words spilled out.

“Th…”

“…”

“Thank you…”

Natasha tightly gripped her negligee with the hand hidden under the blanket.

“You can go enjoy the festival now…”

Eventually, a sigh-mixed breath escaped from the man’s lips.

“…Festival.”

‘…Festival.’

The same response as back then came out.

And finally, the words that Natasha of that day hadn’t heard surfaced.

“How could I enjoy this festival, Tisha.”

“…”

“I, both then and now, am becoming infinitely small in front of today’s festival.”

“…”

“Yet how could I love today.”

“…”

“How, when I feel so guilty towards you.”

Guilt was mixed in the small red mass. The dark side of the flesh-colored mass crumpled slightly. The black mass contained within it soon broke into small pieces. Between his tightly closed eyes, anguish seeped out.