MHHC Chapter 18

Request

My Lady.

Though I was selected early on to serve as a lady's maid to a noblewoman, I never learned to read or write. Even back then and now, it was an era when even noblewomen who guarded the inner chambers were often illiterate. It was a time when a maid was good enough if she could embroider well, manage laundry properly, read her superiors' moods cleverly, and attend to trivial tasks while seeming present yet absent.

The wise Mistress, lady Laura tried several times to teach me letters, but I didn't want to put in that much effort. Having worked from dawn till my hands swelled, finally entering the chambers—how could I study without even a moment to warm myself by the fire? After I cried and wailed that it was too much, lady Laura promised with an embarrassed face never to force me again.

It's a moment I deeply regret now.

If I knew how to read and write, would that thing have crushed my wrist too? It might have stolen my sight instead. But at least I could have conveyed my words to you somehow, my lady.

Not like this—not just watching you helplessly with open eyes, unable to do anything.

I'm still bound to that night. Whether awake, lying down, eating, or living some semblance of daily life mixed among the maids… I still feel that thing's fingers stuck to my throat. I feel the pressure of being strangled. I can't even remember the last time I slept since that night.

Don't look at me with those eyes, my lady. I'm fine…

Adelheid. I have only one thing to tell you.

That wicked thing has bewitched everyone. It has bewitched you. People are all as good as blind. They don't look beyond the curtain, they've covered their ears against the sounds. So you must flee. Far, far from this place.

You must take Lord Oskar's carriage. Before the moon rises again, before the tricks that thing has wickedly worked take root in your soul.

Before that thing is forever nailed into you.

If you cannot do that, at least keep your distance from it. No matter how pitifully it acts, don't look back, don't listen to its voice, don't give it anything or receive anything from it.

This is all a disaster brought on by my complacency. It's the fault of my stupidity for not remembering the prophecy.

Please, my lady. You must hear my voice. You'll know just by looking at my face. You'll feel it just by seeing my eyes. However poorly I've behaved, we are—

"Your Grace."

It was a sudden voice. Adelheid straightened from where she'd been carefully tucking the blanket around Greta.

The head housemaid stood at the doorway with both hands clasped respectfully. Having been stuck in a room where she couldn't even light a single candle due to Greta's anxiety, Adelheid narrowed her eyes slightly against the brightness.

"What is it?"

"My apologies. I dare this discourtesy because there's an urgent matter to discuss. His Grace…"

"A matter to discuss? Not that His Grace is asking for me?"

"That's not the case, but he seems to find the faces of those attending him still unfamiliar."

"……."

"Until yesterday he managed resolutely, but today he seems particularly uncomfortable. Of course, as a mere servant I cannot presume to judge His Grace's heart, but…"

Adelheid understood everything the head housemaid couldn't quite express. Though he hadn't directly asked for her, they were requesting she look in on him. Since he was someone whose anxiety might erupt into an episode at any moment…

"I understand."

The moment Adelheid gave a slight nod, Greta—who'd been lying quietly in bed—bolted upright and grabbed her sleeve in a fierce grip. The strength in her grasp was desperate beyond mere force.

"Ss……, hh……."

A rasping moan leaked between Greta's lips. Adelheid could see Greta's gentle face terribly contorted. Since her throat injury, Greta had often been anxious. Whether Adelheid was away or present…

"Your Grace."

"I'll go."

At the head housemaid's urging, Adelheid carefully pried Greta's fingers loose one by one. Though her heart was deeply uncomfortable, her imposed priorities were clear. She pressed a brief kiss to trembling Greta's forehead.

"I'll be right back."

The head housemaid who'd guided Adelheid to the Grand Duke's room bowed respectfully and left. Left alone, there was a brief moment of silence. She stood dazed for a moment, then turned her gaze toward the window at the sound of celebratory fireworks from outside.

Ansgar Territory had been in a festive mood for days. It seemed they'd decided to receive all at once the compensation for enduring the past three years with doors firmly sealed while their lord was away at war. People clinked glasses whenever they gathered.

'Everyone's excited.'

Adelheid cooled her flushed cheeks with the back of her hand.

The people of Ansgar had grown as generous toward Adelheid as their loosened hearts. Ansgar's old retainers offered her warm greetings as she passed through the corridors. They pressed drinks on her so many times without ceremony that she couldn't refuse—barely touching her lips to the wine, yet it must have taken effect.

'They needed an excuse to hold a festival anyway, and for His Grace to return alive on top of that…'

Normally, even if the lord went to war, they wouldn't need to be this reclusive, but Ansgar's circumstances were different. In the Grand Duke's absence, the role of "officially" protecting the castle fell to the lady of the house, Adelheid.

But she hadn't even received the castle's keys from her husband—she was merely a doll wearing the noble name of Grand Duchess of Ansgar as an empty shell.

It might have been better if she were at least in a position to be shown off like war spoils or jewelry. Her situation was actually worse than a doll's. Something broken and worn, purchased at high price through deception without knowing its value—a white elephant.

The fury, mockery, and contempt she'd braced herself for from the moment her father's fraudulent scheme thrust her onto the wedding altar. A woman without even her natal family's protection had only one future.

A life of anxious dependence, reading her husband's moods while being present yet absent. A life as her father's charge before marriage, then passing to her husband's guardianship after.

"Adele."

Valentin gently took hold of the reins of thought that had been unspooling endlessly unlike usual, due to slight intoxication. He awakened Adelheid to reality.

He wore a light shirt. His bangs were still damp from washing, and his tousled hair and nails were now groomed. Facing him like this, his beauty struck her anew.

Even the arrogant noble young ladies of the capital who'd glanced with prejudiced eyes, insisting all northerners must be barbarians, blushed at the sight of Valentin.

If his status had been even slightly less exalted, he would never have taken a half-baked young lady like Adelheid as his wife. Their marriage involved not only Count Reichenau's will but also the Empress's influence attempting to check the Crown Prince's political rival.

Without such backing, no matter how significant a count he was, he wouldn't have dared attempt fraud against a Grand Duke.

"……."

Though she was utterly demoralized by her own thoughts, Adelheid's eyes busily scanned her husband's bare upper body.

Even for Adelheid, who prided herself on having grown accustomed to Valentin's appearance, it was a somewhat shocking sight.

The broad, firm chest revealed through the loose shirt collar, the slender waist compared to his upper body, the smooth abdomen.

"Cheeks, red."

As he said, heat rushed to her face. Whether from alcohol or some other reason.

Adelheid pretended not to have seen anything and slipped her gaze away from Valentin's chest. Unaware that Valentin smiled faintly at this.

"Um, I heard you've been unable to eat properly."

"Ea…t?"

"Food, I mean. Putting it in your mouth, chewing, swallowing."

"I, did… as, you said…, Adele…"

"If you eat so little, your body will recover more slowly. Was there some other discomfort? Perhaps the food doesn't suit your taste…"

Valentin smiled awkwardly. As if finding her words difficult to understand. Or as if not knowing what reaction to show.

Instead of answering, he returned a question.

"Where, were… you?"

"I went to check on Greta. You saw her once before, remember? She's my chambermaid."

"…Ah."

"Greta hasn't been feeling well lately, so I must watch her closely. She gets anxious often at night too."

Adelheid added like an excuse.

"Is, that… why we can't, sleep… together?"

"Pardon?"

"You said, to wait… to sleep together…"

Suddenly, Adelheid's cheeks reddened. It seemed he was asking if Greta's injury was the reason they weren't sleeping together. If she'd understood correctly…

"Why do you keep saying such things?"

Though she spoke as if scolding, her vision went dark. In the north, it was supposedly common sense for married couples to share a bed. Really, she was beginning to suspect he used his memories conveniently…

'Wait.'

Adelheid's eyes widened in surprise. The conversation that had barely continued with each speaking their piece until yesterday was—though sporadic today—remarkably smooth.

Could recovery be this rapid? As if a person had changed overnight…

Quickly anxious, Adelheid habitually picked at the hangnails on her fingernails. Pluck, pluck. Flesh torn deeper than intended began bleeding profusely.

"…Ah."

At that moment, Valentin—who'd been looking down at Adelheid—inhaled deeply. His complexion turned pale in an instant. As if he'd caught a terribly dreadful scent. Or as if a person who'd starved for dozens of days had encountered appetizing food.

"…Your Grace?"

Golden eyes gleamed peculiarly as they bore into Adelheid. The round pupils narrowed vertically in an instant—like a beast's. A sight hard to believe even seeing with her own eyes. The moment Adelheid flinched and drew back, Valentin seized her hand.