TMWDS Chapter 5

Ionna turned onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. Her limbs lay slack against the sheets as she called back the death that had, until recently, been so vivid.

'Why did he do it?'

Why had the Duke come to save her.

A shallow sense of duty, maybe—that he couldn't let even a wife in name only die.

Had that gentle man died, in exchange for showing her a kindness she didn't deserve?

Ionna was seized by the irrational urge to go to him this instant and confirm he was safe.

But she'd come back ten years into the past—there was no older version of him to answer her questions, and besides, he was almost certainly at his estate right now.

Traveling to see him wasn't difficult in itself. The trouble was that they were already scheduled to meet soon regardless.

Chasing after him now would likely mean passing each other on the road.

'If we meet... what am I supposed to do. Is there even anything I can do for him?'

This match had begun, from the start, as a humiliating arrangement forced on them by the Imperial family.

However generously she interpreted it, she couldn't rate their connection as anything better than an ill-fated one.

Honestly, it would probably be the biggest relief to him if she were the one to call it off.

But whether her superiors would simply accept a refusal was its own question—and even if they did honor her wishes, they'd likely just find some other woman to fill the same spot.

And, above all else...

"There's no reason I have to become a stranger to the husband who threw himself into a killing field to save me, is there?"

Ionna murmured quietly, as if trying to convince herself.

She had no intention of spending this stretch of time the way she had the first time—but that didn't mean she wanted to change husbands, either.

That was one of the rare things she'd carried over from her last life that she was actually glad about.

Ionna pressed her fingertips to her lips and slowly closed her eyes. A tepid warmth rose off her calloused fingers. She still remembered a touch that felt similar to this, yet different.

She would repay the debt she owed her husband. She had simply decided the manner of repayment would be hers to choose.

After two more nights' sleep without waking from what had proven to be a stubbornly realistic dream, Ionna decided it was time to accept that what had happened to her was real.

That was, at least, far easier on the mind than accepting the miserable alternative—that she had to report to work even inside a dream.

The rest days that had luckily happened to fall in a row during this stretch had passed unusually quietly.

Her dedicated maids hadn't returned since going to report to the Count, and her family hadn't come round to scold her over what happened, either.

Hayden had tried once to request a conversation, but he'd backed off easily enough when Ionna refused.

Whatever the reason, one thing was certain—the Count had started treating Ionna as someone he had to watch his step around.

'It's always good when people can't afford to treat you carelessly.'

The moment she arrived at work, Ionna stopped by knight headquarters to put in for indoor duty. A bruised face had no business attending the Imperial family.

Whatever grief she'd taken out on Nils, she hadn't come out of it unmarked either.

"Come in."

A voice of permission came back through the door the moment she knocked.

Ionna said nothing and opened the door.

Saschia, the knight commander, was busy at work amid a mountain of paperwork.

Saschia glanced up just long enough to take in Ionna's face, then asked in an offhand tone, as if it barely mattered:

"Hit again?"

"As you can see."

Ionna answered just as flatly and got straight to the point.

"For that reason, I'll need to switch to indoor duty for the time being. It looks like you could use the extra hands, as it happens."

"Desperately. Tremendously. Unbelievably. But no. The instant you're back on duty, you're summoned to the Crown Prince's palace."

"By Rihardt himself?"

"Who else would it be."

Ionna hesitated for a moment, hands still clasped behind her back. Where Nils had hit her had come up a deep, dark bruise.

She'd done a rough job powdering over it as a stopgap, but it wasn't the kind of thing that could be hidden entirely.

More to the point, Ionna only ever bothered with cosmetics when she had a wound to conceal.

Which meant anyone who saw her could easily work out that something had happened during her days off.

"Do I really have to go?"

"If you're asking me to talk you into it, then fine, I'll answer. Yes. You have to go."

Saschia flipped through her papers with breezy indifference.

Ionna swallowed a sigh and turned to leave.

"...I'll be off, then."

"Ionna."

The clipped voice stopped Ionna just as she reached the door.

Ionna turned back to find Saschia holding up an index finger, as if reminding her of something she should already know.

"People who can't afford to treat you carelessly are always—"

"Always a good thing. Of course."

Ionna finished the line for her, right on cue, and Saschia's eyebrows rose. She hadn't quite managed to accept the agreement at face value.

Saschia stared straight at the bruised side of Ionna's face.

"I know you've got some kind of complex about your little sister outshining you, or whatever it is—but that Nils bastard's gone too far. Nobody's telling you to just sit there and eat his shit forever."

Was there any figure in noble society more shameful than a bastard child?

As if he had any shame in him, Count Modrov had gotten Ionna registered as a distant relative's child, falsifying her birth records.

Because of that, most people believed Ionna was Count Modrov's adopted daughter.

Since Hayden wasn't, officially, her biological father, their distant family relationship was taken as a matter of course.

Of course, there were people like Saschia who took the side of someone fenced out of the family by blood alone.

"One more bruise and I'm challenging that Nils bastard to a duel myself, as your commanding officer. I'm not just talking."

"He probably won't accept it. Mine wasn't, at least."

"How could he possibly not accept your duel challenge—something's bound to end up permanently broken—wait, what?"

Saschia, mid-sentence, cut herself off. Then, with a look that said this isn't the pushover I thought I knew, she asked again, fast: "You issued a challenge? You?"

Saschia's eyes went wide at the unbelievable statement.

It wasn't the first time Ionna had come to work sporting a rainbow of bruises, nor was it the first time Saschia had lectured her over it.

But Ionna had, until now, met the Modrov family's unfair treatment with a consistently lukewarm response.

Saschia had raised her voice a few times before, unable to stand by, but it had never done any good.

If the person involved had no will to resolve it, how could the situation improve? The same problem simply looped back around, over and over.

So what wind had blown in, exactly, to make that milksop pull off something this satisfying?

Even scrutinizing Ionna with a suspicious eye, Saschia found nothing that looked like a lie.

Saschia let out an impressed "Huh," rubbing her chin.

"Live long enough and you see everything."

"If there's nothing else you need, may I go?"

She'd have loved to hear more of her subordinate's fascinating family drama, but there was simply too much work still waiting.

Torn between the paperwork and the temptation, Saschia finally gave in with a "Go on, then," waving her off.

Ionna gave the commander a light bow and left the room.

Just then, as if she'd crossed paths with someone else in the corridor, faint voices drifted through the door.

"Knight Ionna, back on duty? I hope you had a restful break. Wait, no—I really don't—your face, why does it—"

"Theobald Meyer! Stop wasting your breath and get in here and report."

Saschia's booming voice cut Theobald off mid-sentence.

She was saving her subordinate, who was about to spend the entire day fielding the same question.

Theobald exchanged a hurried goodbye with Ionna and bolted into the office.

Saschia clicked her tongue and said,

"What, standing there acting like you've got no idea what's going on? It's obvious who did it."

"I got startled, is all! A coworker's cheek is puffed up like a loaf of bread and I'm not supposed to react, Commander?"

Saschia, who hadn't exactly held her tongue herself a moment ago, wasn't in much of a position to lecture.

When Saschia fell silent, Theobald leaned toward her and asked in a whisper,

"But is that Nils bastard really allowed to keep this up? She's the adopted daughter and all, but she's about to become a Duchess."

"That's just how people are—when some bastard who thought he was better than you goes and succeeds, you can't stomach it. That's exactly when they go and do something stupid."

The fact that Nils harbored an inferiority complex toward his successful adopted sister was already common knowledge.

Unlike Nils, who'd inherited everything he had from his parents, Ionna had earned her place at the Crown Prince's side entirely on her own merit.

And with the Imperial family itself arranging for her to become a Duchess on top of that, it was only natural a rival would find it infuriating.

Yvonne, for her part, was already making the rounds of every party, openly running her mouth about her sister's presumptuous greed.

Saschia normally wouldn't sit at the same table as someone as ill-bred as Yvonne, but she did agree, to some extent, that Ionna and the Duke made an odd match.

Clasping both hands behind her head, Saschia looked up at the ceiling and asked,

"So why do you think the Crown Prince is so set on marrying her off, anyway?"