MHHC Chapter 55

That Woman

Adel hastily redirected the conversation.

"Now that I think about it, your accent has cleared up completely. You don't trail off at the end of your sentences anymore either."

Valentin answered obediently, his expression growing subtle, as if he knew her ploy but was willing to play along.

"We're at the imperial palace."

"I'm having difficulty understanding what you mean by that."

"It doesn't matter to me, but I can't make you look bad as well."

It was a remarkably proper answer, considering how shamelessly he'd behaved in Ansgar.

Finding her dumbfounded expression amusing, he let out a quiet laugh.

"If I slip up even slightly, those people will swoop in like vultures to steal away your adorable little territory."

"My adorable little territory?"

"That old castle you use like a cozy rabbit burrow."

"...Surely you're not referring to Ansgar Castle."

"That's right. Ansgar Castle."

To treat that massive fortress as nothing more than a rabbit burrow. She felt dazed, uncertain where to even begin correcting him.

It wasn't her castle to begin with, but 'Ansgar's' castle and territory, wasn't it? And though old and ancient, it was hardly small or burrow-like, was it?

Of course, from 'Valentin's' perspective, since it was human territory, there was little point in such distinctions.

Even a castle with a scale that might make one faint could feel like a rabbit hole to a non-human, perhaps.

"I wanted to see you enjoy life."

Having threaded his fingers snugly between hers, he suddenly spoke with a smile.

"I found myself curious. What exactly was this life you wanted so badly you'd abandon everything else? What could possibly be good about living 'like this'?"

Again.

Each time he spoke in that way—his face wandering through the past rather than the present—her heart clenched tight.

But no matter how much Adel might wish for Valentin's affection, she was not 'that woman.' She had no intention of becoming her, nor could she.

'Perhaps in the past he speaks of, there exists a version of me I don't remember. A previous life, or a soul...'

In truth, even that was optimistic thinking. Even if her vague suppositions approached the truth, her life belonged solely to 'Adelheid of Reichenau.'

Adel barely swallowed down the nameless emotion rising in her throat. Then she opened her mouth with resolve.

"I am, Valentin, not that kind of person—"

"Adelheid."

But when he called her name, the defiance she'd barely gathered dissolved in an instant.

Adele. Adelheid. This name he always called with such deep affection was, at the very least, wholly hers.

"You have no idea how much I practiced to call that name with a human voice."

Valentin smiled with eyes that seemed almost tearful.

He was occasionally this desperate. Longing for her even while looking at her, as if her warmth wasn't enough even while holding her. When he was like this, even the resentment she'd felt vanished without a trace.

When Adel cautiously reached out her hand, Valentin caught her fingertips and brought them to his lips.

"...You practiced my name?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to call you by your name properly when we met."

'Adelheid.'

That day, the memory of when he'd walked out of the coffin and that voice remained vivid even now.

Could she forget it even at the moment of death? Yet strangely, the terror of that day was beginning to feel different now.

It felt tender somehow. That while he'd been clumsy with every other word, he'd never once gotten her name wrong—it seemed proof of tremendous affection.

"Adele. I have been waiting for you for a very long time."

Therefore, it was ultimately meaningless. Whoever he mistook her for, the one receiving all his affection at Valentin's side right now was her.

Adele. Adelheid. The name he called again and again belonged to her alone.

'For now, this is enough.'

The moment she thought that, Adel felt deeply relieved. It meant her feelings for Valentin weren't yet that deep.

Though perhaps, someday, they would be.

"Valentin. By the way, your hands are cold."

Valentin's fingertips holding her had remained cold all this time. Adel pulled his hand and drew it under the blanket.

"If you're going to stay, come under the covers. You'll catch a cold."

"Are you worried about me right now?"

"If you catch a cold and fall ill, all sorts of rumors will spread. Those who pretend to care about Your Grace's health while coveting Ansgar will see this as a golden opportunity."

Valentin laughed as if amused, but when she lifted the edge of the blanket slightly, his smile gradually faded.

Soon he was looking down at her with a completely expressionless face, all trace of laughter gone.

"......"

Under that intense gaze, Adel realized she'd behaved too presumptuously.

"Y-you can pretend you didn't hear that. I really only requested it for temperature preservation, I truly had no other meaning whatsoever..."

"Why are you making excuses?"

Looking relaxed now, Valentin raised the corner of his mouth and slowly leaned forward, bracing himself against the bed.

Adel pulled her upper body back as much as he drew closer. His eyes curved wickedly.

"What exactly did you imagine? Hmm?"

"...I, I—"

"You should be more careful, Adele. It's just the two of us here. What will you do if you provoke me like this and then can't handle it?"

"Th-this is the imperial palace."

"You had no problem wanting to be held at the inn."

"Th-that... wasn't really like that..."

When she fell silent and looked on the verge of tears, Valentin's lips curved smoothly into a beautiful smile.

"I didn't actually misunderstand even without all those excuses. No matter how much I might desire you at all times, I'm not shameless enough to bother someone who's exhausted."

"......"

"Still, I don't let opportunities slip by."

As if he'd never hesitated, he slipped under the blanket and pulled her into his arms.

With his solid arms binding her waist without any gaps, he buried his lips against Adel's forehead.

Her skin tingled with his warm breath.

"Uncomfortable?"

"No..."

Actually, it was warm. Much better than she'd expected. Adel curled up using his broad chest as support.

Thump-thump. The sound of his heart beating close by resonated leisurely in her ear.

She secretly let out a satisfied sigh. Occasionally, she found it strange that Valentin had become someone who brought her such profound relief.

"Aren't you afraid? When I'm next, to you."

He pulled her close once more as she wriggled trying to find a comfortable position in his arms.

He gently smoothed down her wildly disheveled hair.

"There you go again. Speaking like that."

"Ah... It's become a habit now."

He smiled a bit awkwardly.

Well, sometimes she did feel that her emotions toward him were progressing at a bewilderingly rapid pace.

If at one point her sense of discomfort had disappeared, then at another point she'd begun feeling an inexplicable affection for him.

Perhaps it had been from that moment when she'd awakened her magic with his help...

'Magic?'

Her eyes, which had been blinking comfortably, suddenly opened wide. Thinking back on it, something was strange.

That even after he'd threatened her life, she could still find relief in his arms again. That she felt nothing but complete affection from him.

"......"

She sensed a faint crack that hadn't been visible until now. As if she were missing something very important.

"Sleep more. You're tired."

Had he noticed the subtle change in her mood? Valentin pressed his forehead against hers.

The moment she felt the magic flowing in through him, she felt relief once more.

Yes, it must all be her imagination. When his embrace was this peaceful. This warm.

"Soon... isn't it. Don't dream..."

At some point, even his voice became difficult to hear. Adel fell helplessly into deep sleep.

In the end, her fever began rising from dawn. Her body had always been weak, and traveling such a long distance in foul weather had cost her greatly.

The maids fretted all day, worried punishment might fall for failing to properly care for their mistress, and Margaret became frantically busy with the flood of bouquets and letters pouring in from everywhere.

"His Imperial Majesty must truly trust our Grand Duke beyond measure."

Margaret muttered as she arranged the ninth massive bouquet to arrive in a fresh vase.

Even while looking worriedly at Adelheid, her face shone with pride.

She said that the imperial family was finally recognizing Ansgar's true value.

"The fever's rising again..."

And Valentin remained gloomy throughout, convinced all of this was his fault for awakening her magic too forcefully.

With a half-dazed expression, he stayed glued to Adel's bedside, watching with wary eyes everyone who approached.

"It seems to be a psychological issue. Even healing magic won't take effect..."

The imperial physician and healer sent by the emperor shook their heads with gloomy faces.

The situation being what it was, Valentin's attendance at the evening banquets amounted to nothing more than briefly showing his face before leaving.

Valentin displayed tireless persistence and patience when it came to caring for her.

When her mouth was dry, he held a water glass to her lips; at each appointed time, he forced her to swallow medicine and porridge. He even dismissed all the maids' attendance, as if dissatisfied with their service.

"The victory ball is on the last day anyway, so don't worry and rest. You need to get better quickly."

When she barely managed to regain consciousness after losing it, Valentin was sitting at her bedside.

He leaned forward and pressed his hand, filled with magic, against her pale forehead.

The cool magic flowing in felt so good that Adel instinctively grasped his hand and rubbed her feverish cheek against it.

'So cool.'

The imperial physician had said she was ill because her emotions were unstable, but to her it felt rather the opposite.

As her body weakened, the emotions that had been stagnating restlessly began to run wild.

The feelings she'd tried so hard to ignore had swollen taut, now ready to burst at the slightest poke and overflow with a terrible stench.

He was both utterly beloved and utterly dreadful, utterly terrifying yet utterly dear.

When these ambivalent emotions rose to fill her throat, terrible self-loathing swept through her.

Yet like a madwoman, she craved his warmth.

"I hate..."

"Yes, Adele. I'm right here."

Valentin gently stroked her whimpering cheek. He slowly patted her forehead and nape, sticky with sweat.

When he did so, strangely, her fever would subside. A pure and refreshing scent emanated from him.