RAMHM Chapter 11

If I Should Lose My Wife

I stood frozen until the third dance ended. The large hands binding me—though they must have been gloved—transmitted heat immediately, searing through fabric. If this chaotic situation settled, if the third dance ended as well, I would be noticed. Certainly.

'No.'

Until I met Novian, I couldn't be noticed by anyone—!

"How is Lady Marge...?"

"!"

Lady Marge. The man who called me by that unfamiliar title was Neil, the knight who'd come to the Acacia estate to investigate me. Neil's eyes went round as he looked me up and down, his face flushing red as if he'd been slapped. I came to my senses with a jolt and struggled to free my captured arm. When the grip of that burning hand—which had seemed it would never release me—loosened slightly, I turned my head to look behind me. The moment I met those gleaming red eyes, my heart plummeted. Thud. Simultaneously, the pupils of the man facing me contracted sharply.

He's the one who sent Neil.

As I observed him, he observed me. Slowly, tenaciously, his gaze tore through the spaces between my flustered expressions. I hurriedly averted my eyes, turning my head forward again. Then the loosened grip tightened once more with renewed strength, and gleaming golden hair drew close enough to brush my temple. He remained behind me as he spoke.

"You seem to require assistance."

"!"

The Empire's rake. The Imperial family's problem child. The demon of the battlefield. The red wolf who calls blood. The epithets I'd seen in gossip sheets about him—they were clearly no lies. He was the one making things difficult for me now, the one who'd seized a lady's arm from behind and wouldn't release it—! If it weren't for his knights surrounding us, even with the dance music flowing, everyone would have noticed my face caught in his grip.

"You appear troubled, lacking a partner."

The situation where I should have followed that partner to care for him, yet this voice speaking with such honeyed ease—as if he'd never seen my partner moved aside by his own men from the start—felt so discordant, too sweet for the circumstances.

"...Do you require assistance?"

"No!"

To the swelling dance music, I called out quietly. Neil, who'd been glancing at us while still shielding us, shook his head with a pitying expression as if to say that wasn't the right answer. Rhodness pulled me slightly more toward him. Close enough that I could feel his every exhaled breath from the crown of my head to the nape of my neck. Goosebumps rose. Shiver.

"...Do you require assistance?"

At the voice that had grown more ominous, I tensed and stubbornly shook my head. What I needed was for this man to disappear. For this man to vanish so I could find Novian. Soon after, I heard the dance music approaching its end. And the knights who'd been shielding us began moving away, one by one, as if it had all been a lie.

"W-wait! This! Let go of this first!"

"...Do you require assistance?"

The ominous yet courteous voice kept echoing in my ears. Like a sweet demon's whisper forcibly raising every hair on my body, seizing my entire form in its grip. As the dance music ended, I nodded as if in desperation.

"Yes, I need help. So please let me go."

Clenched. The moment I spoke through gritted teeth, the hands binding me released as if they'd never held me at all. Immediately, the sounds I'd been hearing in a daze became clear as if emerging from underwater, and the murmuring of people reached me from close by.

"...!"

Rhodness—wearing that same arrogant, cool expression as before—stood before me now. The knights who'd been shielding us had scattered completely. His hand extended abruptly toward me. A large hand wearing white gloves. With trembling eyes, I looked up along that long arm and neck to a face too beautiful. He was so tall that to meet his eyes, I had to crane my head back dizzily far.

I felt the eyes of people who'd been waiting for the fifth dance turning toward him with his outstretched hand and toward me.

"Will you permit me your first dance?"

I don't think he'd said such things to the first girl he'd danced with. The red-eyed predator spoke to me with an attitude so courteous it felt almost arrogant. Refusing would draw even more attention. I hurriedly grasped the hand extended to me. The hand that gripped mine firmly led me to the center of the hall as smoothly as flowing water.

The fifth dance began slowly, as if it had been waiting for him and me to take our positions. His hand immediately came to rest on my bare back. At the sensation that made every hair stand on end to my scalp, I stumbled slightly, but when Rhodness led me naturally, no one noticed.

While feeling countless gazes pouring over me, I tried to focus on the medals filling my vision. Even in movements where we faced each other, I couldn't bring myself to meet that face, so I only stared at his sleekly sculpted neck. His hand on my back burned as hotly as when he'd grasped my arm. And tension consumed me—the possibility that Novian might be watching this scene.

Prince Rhodness, the Second Prince.

How did this prince know who I originally was, to have been at the cemetery? If Neil reported to this prince that I was a maid named Marge, shouldn't he ask why a maid was at this gathering, or grow angry that I'd deceived people?

What on earth...

As I frantically traced through my thoughts, hot breath and an extremely low male voice poured over the crown of my head.

"Marge—I heard she's of such lowly birth she doesn't even possess a surname."

"......"

"This may be a story of no interest to you, but..."

He lifted me lightly and spun me around. Whoosh. Though I'd diligently learned to dance in childhood, I wavered slightly but quickly found my balance. From Rhodness's lips—curved in a subtle expression—that low voice flowed once more.

"A person resembling you and I shared our first dance here."

Thank you for gifting me that memory again, Countess Acacia. He whispered in an even lower voice.

"!"

I was swept by shallow shock. He'd immediately called me Countess Acacia. The lie about being a maid in the Acacia household had naturally become worthless. A maid couldn't wear such clothes or dance like this. And...

The original me danced with this prince?

I'd danced here in Adrienne's body only once. At my debut as a debutante at twenty. At the masquerade ball held unfailingly each new year.

Who did I dance with that day?

I'd only danced with my brother Gregory and Novian that day. Unlike the heat where his hand and my back met, he maintained an appropriate distance—neither pressing too close nor standing too far away. Just as Novian had done at my first debut. I released my tense body and tried to continue the dance naturally to the end, recalling myself at eighteen during my debut.

The dance between Rhodness and me matched so well—as if we'd practiced together repeatedly—that it felt absurd. As the dance music approached its end, as Rhodness's hand tightened and he seemed about to say something to me again—I raised my head, following a gaze that felt oddly pointed. When I lifted my face past Rhodness's sharply carved jaw, I met precisely with Novian's blue eyes watching Rhodness and me from atop the high stairs.

"!"

I was so startled I stopped dead—but fortunately the dance music ended just then. I immediately pushed lightly against Rhodness's solid chest and slipped into the crowd returning to their places. Rude behavior.

"Madam!"

I heard Rhodness's low cry, but the moment I met Novian's gaze, my mind went blank and I couldn't think of anything.

I can't miss this chance.

I have to meet you. I have to meet you and confirm everything. Against the wave of people seeking new partners to dance to the sixth tune, I continued climbing the stairs.

Having lost Novian, I exited the party hall and ran through the garden. Though I trembled from the cold, I turned my eyes in all directions searching for Novian.

As I scanned the exterior wall of the party hall building, examining the areas where terraces clustered, among the numerous terraces I saw one where the outer curtain wasn't drawn. The moment I spotted the black hair jutting up alone there, I climbed the exterior stairs like a madwoman.

I opened the emergency door, pushed aside layers of blackout curtains, and the instant I entered the second-floor corridor I'd escaped from earlier, a cold hand seized my forearm in a flash.

"Ah!"

In an instant, I was pulled into one of the curtained terraces.

"Will you keep tormenting me like this, Bliea?"

The person who'd grabbed me was Novian. A cool, low voice. Before I could even be surprised, goosebumps rose. Shiver. From cold? Yes, of course that was part of it. But I couldn't quite believe that he—who'd pretended not to see me on the first day of the funeral—had accurately called Bliea's name. With both forearms firmly gripped, I looked up at him.

Will he recognize me?

Will he at least perceive that Bliea is slightly different than usual? Novian's face was flushed red. A sharp alcohol scent resonated. He seemed to have drunk quite a lot. Arms gripping without hesitation, his lower body pressed close. Even his heart pounding loud enough for my ears to catch. The terrace was as cold as the garden, but I felt cold sweat breaking out. Eyes sunken pitch-black. Black hair tangled and disheveled as if he hadn't bothered styling it at all. The deep-set eyes held an even more melancholic light. It truly wasn't like him. Not Novian Trovika, who'd always been perfect.

"Have you resolved not to answer?"

He twisted only one corner of his mouth, smirking as he spoke. It was definitely Novian, yet not the Novian I knew. He frowned briefly at my lack of response, then smoothed his expression as if bestowing mercy.

"Won't you keep the promise?"

Promise.

What the hell is that damned promise?

My voice almost burst out again. Choking. Novian, what am I to you? What am I that you treat me like this? Is Bliea truly your mistress? Are the dying Count Acacia's words truly your will? I bit down on the words trying to explode haphazardly from my mouth and slowly opened it.

"...What promise?"

I decided to ask first about that 'promise' that had tormented me for days. Novian's hands gripping my arms tightened sharply. Enough to cut off blood flow. His thick eyebrows twitched noticeably. At this fierce expression I'd never once seen through Adrienne's eyes, I examined that face frantically.

"You'll be like this?"

"...What, what promise?"

"The promise we made a year ago."

So what promise, Novian?

Two years married to Novian in Adrienne's body. And Bliea and Novian made some promise a year ago. What promise could they have possibly made?

"Must I speak of it—from the mouth of one who's lost his wife?"

Novian whispered sadly, erasing that fierce face from before. My two firmly gripped arms released as if by magic. Released. He turned his long body, and instead of my arms, gripped the terrace railing tightly as he lowered his head. With an expression as if about to retch. At his words about losing his wife, I felt as if all the blood in my body was draining away. He was grieving sincerely. My heart began racing.

"...Tell me."

But if not now, when would I hear it? At my insistence, his shoulders shook with laughter. Yet without looking at my face to the end, he dropped his gaze to the garden below the terrace.

"I want to confirm it, so please tell me."

I spoke once more, firmly. The hands gripping the railing trembled, and he suddenly approached me again.

"If I should lose my wife..."

And half-growling, he said to me:

"...You said you'd become my mistress entirely."