What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 73

Recently, memories of all the things Valderion had shown her flooded her mind.

His uncharacteristic tenderness, even familiarity.

A warmth and intensity that went beyond his usual demeanor.

Passion and desire…

It was all so overwhelming, softening her, melting her resolve until she was helpless before him.

But it wasn’t a true expression of his feelings for her.

It was just about the name.

It was nothing more than a treatment or preparation for the strange, feverish affliction that bound them together because of the name.

“Haah…”

Now, she could see his true intentions clearly.

All the things he had done that shook her so deeply—those were simply part of a game, a performance that would last only as long as the name was unresolved. Whether it was a one-sided bond or something mutual, the duration could be as short as a year or perhaps longer.

From his perspective, it was nothing more than a strategy to ensure she survived.

And yet, she had allowed herself to be swept into this twisted, terrible chaos without realizing it.

How foolish and naive she had been.

That’s why she couldn’t stop crying now.

She was angry, frustrated…

She couldn’t forgive herself for nearly giving her heart—even for a moment—to someone bearing the name of Justitia.

Lirette wiped her tear-stained eyes with the back of her arm.

She picked up the letter and the envelope from the floor and walked over to the fireplace. Without hesitation, she threw them into the flames, determined to erase all evidence of what she had seen.

Whoosh.

The fire consumed the paper in an instant, leaving no trace behind. Standing in front of the blazing heat, which was now almost too hot to bear, Lirette glanced back toward the bed.

There must have been conditions attached to the promise Valderion made with Dylan. If Valderion’s name had appeared on her body, he wouldn’t have been able to return her to the Crown Prince.

One year…

It was already autumn, nearing the end of the year they had agreed upon.

And yet, there was still no sign of Valderion’s name appearing on her. Even the faintest glimmer of hope she had was dashed by the cruel reality of it all.

At this point, waiting for a miracle was nothing but foolishness.

If the year ended and it turned out to be a one-sided bond, there would be nothing left to protect her. No safeguards, no protection from being dragged back to Dylan’s side.

Rather than face that miserable fate…

Lirette looked back at the fireplace once more.

The crackling flames mirrored the emptiness spreading inside her heart.

***

The sensation of fingers running through her hair woke her from her sleep.

Unlike usual, even after regaining some awareness, her body felt heavy and sluggish.

She fought against the weight pressing down on her limbs, forcing her eyes open.

There, sitting on the edge of the bed, was Valderion.

As their eyes met through her still-foggy vision, his hand stopped moving through her hair.

“You’ve become quite the sleepyhead.”

As he spoke, it was clear Valderion had already gotten up and dressed.

He had already gone about his morning routine, and it was well past the time for him to leave the bedroom.

Lirette blinked lazily, sinking back into the soft sheets and blankets, unable to stop a small sigh from escaping.

“I’m tired…”

“Then sleep a little more.”

“I really should get up…”

By the time he was dressed, it was usually long past when the servants would have started cleaning.

“Is there really a reason to get up?” he asked, his hand once again gently teasing her silver hair. The soothing touch was enough to pull her back toward the sleep she had fought so hard to shake off. Ever since that night in the bathroom, he had been treating her with this soft, almost tender affection.

Gone was the tension, the cold sharpness in his gaze that had once felt like they were ready to clash at any moment. It was hard to even remember the hostile days when their eyes would meet with nothing but animosity.

“I think… I’m supposed to clean the fireplace today.”

Her words were loose and mumbled, as though her strength had melted away.

Valderion’s smile, warm like the sunlight streaming through the window, spread across his face.

He leaned down toward her.

Lirette felt the soft pressure of his lips against her temple.

“Once the cleaning’s done, I think things will get interesting,” he murmured.

“Yes… I need to wash up. After I clean the fireplace…”

My clothes will get dirty…

Her voice trailed off into incoherent murmurs, still groggy from sleep, as Valderion chuckled softly. He finally rose from the bed in response to the knocks and voices coming from outside the room.

Despite his amusement at her sleepy complaints, he gently pulled the disheveled blanket up over her shoulders.

Only then did he head toward the door.

“…She’s sleeping right now.”

“…Shall I wake her for you, then?”

“No, leave her be.”

Through the crack in the door as it opened and closed, Lirette faintly overheard the conversation between Valderion and the head maid.

Click.

The door shut, and silence filled the room, leaving behind an atmosphere so cold it was hard to believe that moments ago, the room had been filled with the warmth of bright morning sunlight.

Though she had acted as if she might fall back asleep, being alone sharpened her mind. Lirette slowly sat up, her movements sluggish, her joints aching from lingering fatigue.

Six hours in a spoonful…

Her thoughts settled.

Recently, Valderion had noticed that Lirette was sleeping more frequently. Of course he had, as she had been using her body to conduct a little experiment.

There was a medicine storage room in the basement of the mansion.

She had discovered it purely by chance.

It was near the underground quarters where she had once been confined.

The medicines were all stored in glass jars, finely ground into powder, and without labels to indicate their contents, so an amateur wouldn’t dare touch them. Only the resident physician knew what each medicine was used for.

But Lirette could distinguish one in particular.

“Take this.”

“This is…”

“It’s a sleeping draught.”

During her time at the Imperial Palace, the court physician, who had tended to the upper nobility including Dylan, had secretly given her something.

Out of sympathy for the sleepless nights Dylan’s abuse had caused, the physician had shown her a small kindness. It wasn’t out of any particular affection but rather simple human decency—a way of offering comfort to someone who seemed pitiful.

“It’s a mild draught, without lasting aftereffects. The herb’s properties are gentle. It blends well with other medicines, so you won’t have any issues if you take it along with your current treatments.”

The sleeping draught had a minty scent and a hint of lemon flavor.

To her relief, that very same draught was stored among the medicines in the mansion’s basement.

This experiment wasn’t about self-indulgence.

When she had first escaped from the annex and fled into Alter Forest, she quickly realized the sheer magnitude of Valderion’s estate.

Even if she used the forest or the mansion’s back door, it would take considerable time to escape. Without a carriage or horse, Lirette, alone and vulnerable, had no means of fleeing successfully.

To completely escape Valderion, she needed to create an opportunity—a moment when he would let his guard down.

But Valderion was a man of meticulous precision. His caution was beyond belief.

So, Lirette decided to use the sleeping draught.

The draught was mild enough that even if Valderion slept for an entire day, there would be no ill effects. That was how she planned to lull him into complacency.

“…”

She had made the decision to leave long ago, but every time she revisited it, an indescribable emotion washed over her.

And that emotion only grew stronger as she shared a bed with Valderion, night after night, as he held her close.

Each day, Lirette wrestled with a whirlwind of feelings.

Had Valderion really made such a promise to Dylan?

How could he despise being compared to Dylan yet still make such an arrangement?

But every time she doubted, the letter from Dylan resurfaced in her mind.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if Dylan had used such a ploy to drive a wedge between them.

But that possibility seemed absurd.

It was nothing short of a miracle that she had even seen the letter addressed to Valderion.

For Dylan’s scheme to work, so many coincidences would have had to align perfectly.

What if Valderion had seen the letter first?

He would have destroyed it.

He would have made sure she never saw it.

The conclusion that settled in her mind was cold and firm, solidifying her resolve.

The engagement…

The question that troubled her the most was about the broken engagement.

Valderion’s annulment.

Yet, she still wasn’t sure.

Did he really break off the engagement because of me?

What if there was another reason, one she didn’t know about?

Perhaps the engagement had ended in a way that left him dissatisfied, so he decided to use her as a tool for his amusement in some elaborate charade.

The fortress-like demeanor he had shown all this time made such a possibility seem entirely plausible.

Devious Justitia…

Lirette found herself repeating this thought, as if trying to brainwash herself into believing it.

Strangely, it felt like the only way she could cope, as though she couldn’t bear to think otherwise.

She couldn’t pinpoint what was causing her to corrode like this, turning her emotions so bitter and gray.

Now, for her, Valderion had become someone who only existed to be denied.

Denial was the only way she could allow herself to think of him.