Duke Rockmann’s mansion has seen many visitors of late.
“Please, do come in. Thank you for coming to see Alois, Miss Treyse.”
“Oh, but it’s the only thing I can do. I was simply hoping to see his face for but a moment.”
“It’s very rare for him to be laid up. Seeing his friends and subordinates visit him makes even me happy. How curious,” says Rockmann’s mother, Norweira Arnold Rockmann, deep emotion in her voice.
For a wife of a duke, her dress is markedly understated. It flutters as she walks to the door leading out of her sleeping son’s room and slowly closes it, leaving just a small gap.
According to her, the news of Rockmann’s collapsing during exercise traveled through the castle and eventually reached his family home. It would be one thing if it were related to the excessive magical powers he displayed in childhood, or a wound sustained in combat—but this time, something was destroying him from the inside, and the whole mansion was in an uproar about it for a time.
Norweira had said he was brought to the mansion once his condition had stabilized, and things have been hectic ever since. Bill Arnold, the eldest of the Rockmann sons, came from his own domain to visit together with his wife. A few hours later, the parents of Sir Alois’s stepsister, Melly Arnold, came for a visit, bringing flowers. Tafnas Bunachiel Accardo, the heir to House Bunachiel—one of the Three Great Houses and the family of the queen consort—brought tender fruits from abroad rumored to possess migraine-curing properties. A messenger from another of the Three Great Houses, House Mozfalt, came knocking on the door with a fruit basket of their own. A small procession is steadily forming.
Information travels incredibly fast between nobles, especially those related by blood.
I close my eyes, listening to footsteps diminishing into the distance. Opening them just a little bit, I see some light through the gap in the lace curtains. The sun is setting outside; it looks like a dazzling gemstone. At the same time, my dark dress appears in the window’s reflection, so I quickly look away.
This filthy color is just like me.
The walls of Sir Alois’s bedroom are completely lined with bookshelves. It’s not a surprise to me—I’ve always known him to be diligent. The decorations of the room are minimal, and there’s not much color.
And yet, this room looks dazzling in my eyes because of the man lying on the bed before me.
His forehead, white and smooth like porcelain, peeks through his blond hair. His well-shaped, faintly colored lips are slightly open. His eyelids are closed. His long eyelashes appear to twinkle in the sunlight like stars in the night sky, perhaps due to bits of dirt on them.
I caress his golden hair resting on his white pajamas. It’s incredibly soft.
“Sir Alois...”
I stick my hand inside my shirt and draw my hidden dagger. Seven gemstones glisten on its haft: carnelian, aquamarine, citrine, emerald, celestine, diamond, and black onyx. Their cold stings my tender palm.
Holding the dagger, I bring my hands to my shoulders to suppress my trembling. I don’t want anyone to see me in such a shameful state.
It feels like there’s always something invisible watching me, pressuring me with its gaze. It’s suffocating. I must do this before the sun sets. There’s no turning back. I’ve made a pact.
Reminding myself of the fact, I resolve myself and raise my dagger.
“Al...”
I’ve had my eyes on you for so long—much longer than she did. Ever since that time we met and spoke in the courtyard of the royal palace.
I am Treyse Drenman, the third daughter of House Jogsedd. Though this house is not one of the “three greats,” its deep relations with other houses stemming from its long history give it a standing high enough to be right next to the three; the kingdom of Doran places great value on history. In this world, where blood is believed to be more valuable than anything, there is no greater point of pride than a family’s endurance through the long ages.
This family won’t share any of its fortune with me. All I can do is study. To them, I’m simply a tool, someone to marry off. The ball I was forced to attend was pure agony for me. I loathed the marquis who found me, still very much a child, and extended a hand to me. I shuddered when he caressed my hand, saying I was his future spouse.
No matter how much I studied, I could never hope to escape this world.
“Leave me alone!”
That day, in spite of all I already knew, I wished to escape from that ball. I shook off the marquis’s hand and ran to the courtyard of the palace.
“What are you doing here? Are you crying?”
Whether it was pure fate or some other force’s machination, he found me there and gently embraced me. I didn’t know who he was at first; I was stuck in my own little world. But when he wiped my tears away and said he found the ball tedious as well, I became convinced that he was my fated companion.
When that marquis was charged with corruption several days later and the marriage talks came to an end, I believed it was fate arranging my eventual marriage with him.
I wanted to be by his side, both then and in the future. I wanted to be his number one.
“Today is the day, Rockmann! You’re finally going down!”
Nanalie Hel, the girl that’s always been by his side, is nothing but an obstacle to me. Why did it have to be her—a commoner, at that? The question’s run through my head time and time again as I gazed at his back, ever since I entered magic school.
It has been heartbreaking to hear the rumors surrounding him, circulating in high society since that demon, Städal, was slain. People suspect he wishes to marry a commoner, a girl with blue hair, and they say the two are a good match, since “both are heroes who saved the world.”
She should just disappear. Just let her die already.
But even if that happened, Hel wouldn’t vanish from Sir Alois’s heart. Which is why I wish to erase her from his mind, including all their memories together.
I detest her. But I detest him even more. Why didn’t he choose me?
Tears start falling from my eyes onto the sheets as I stifle my sobs. The cold, hard tool in my hands starts to shake. I’m still unable to take it where it needs to go. I have to thrust it into the heart of the man in front of me, and do it quickly, yet what little conscience remains in me keeps getting in the way.
“Are you crying?”
I’m startled by the voice coming from below. Cold sweat seizes me. Thinking he knows what I’m up to, I peek at his face, only to find him with his eyes closed. Thank goodness, he’s still asleep. However, my relief lasts but a moment.
“You’ve always been such a crybaby...”
Is he half-asleep? Is he fully awake? I can’t tell.
I gaze at him as he speaks with his eyes closed. Looking at his peaceful expression, anyone would think he was asleep if he didn’t use his voice.
“You were crying the first time I met you at the castle too, right?”
I strain my ears to listen to his disjointed words. They cause my hands holding the dagger to shake.
“You can’t kill me with that dagger.”
Just how much does he know?
“You’re likely after my memories, not my life. And it looks like I’m not even your target.” Gradually, his speech becomes more coherent. “It was either you who made me drink a potion of confusion, or an accomplice of yours... One must be quite skilled to manipulate a knight.”
He even realized that I’d ensorcelled a knight to make him lace Sir Alois’s food with the mixture.
“I wonder who’s found their way into your heart?” He slowly raises his heavy eyelids. “Now tell me.”
By the time I drop the dagger on the floor...
“About the one who cursed you.”
...his red eyes are already fixed on me.