"There is one thing I would like to hear from Sir. As an apology, I want honest answers."
"Answers?"
"Yes."
"If the question is…."
Limoud was silent for a moment. What is it that makes you so upset? There was one thing to infer.
"Are you going to ask about the underground of the floodgate?"
He was tired of being asked about the floodgate's underground in the capital. Furthermore, since Limoud won the knight's duel, the capital knights clung to him in a way that was almost insane. He pretended to suffer from trauma there, but now—
"Okay. I'll be honest with you about anything."
"Okay, Sir."
Diarin nodded her head once. She asked, full of doubt,
"Why are you helping me?"
"…What?"
"It was kind of strange. You bought a cloak, and a new, expensive carriage. I'm the only one who gets cold, so you bought it for me. I tried to understand that you're taking care of my health because you're my escort…"
It was just before then that the strangeness peaked.
You didn't have to kick the back of Dermaf's head and his shin. Especially his shin.
"Why did you cover for me in front of Baron Dublen earlier?"
"...."
"Because the Baron was a thorn in my side, you brought up the story of the monster on purpose. If I had brought it up, it would have been seen as an abomination to avoid the situation, but it wouldn't have mattered if you had brought it up, right?"
"...."
Limoud didn't answer. Diarin didn't seem to want an answer, either.
"But it was only after Mount Chiralt that you suddenly started treating me so well. Did you see something there?"
Limoud was silent for a while. His lips twitched, but then he opened his mouth as if determined.
"Actually… yes, I saw something."
He said, frowning.
"The lady vomited blood behind the carriage."
"…What?"
Limoud said he had seen the scene by accident, giving an excuse.
"It's impossible to vomit blood unless something is very wrong."
That was true.
When Diarin couldn't find an answer, Limoud raised his head. In the meantime, his expression was firm, as if he had resolved his worries.
"I wanted to ask you this, my lady. How are you sick? How long have you been sick?"
"That's…"
"Looking back, the contents of the pledge were the same. My lady, are you suffering from a serious illness?"
"...It's not a serious disease or anything."
"You're vomiting blood like that."
"I have a chronic disease."
"Does the prince know that?"
"No."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"We'll be strangers in a year. Do we have to talk?"
"…Indeed, we will."
"The doctor said that if I take my medicine, I'll get better."
"Is that so…."
There was a time when the appearance of a lady suffering from a chronic disease was the standard of beauty.
To make her look paler, weaker—the occasional fainting was the norm. In severe cases, the pale and emaciated appearance of pneumonia patients was used as an indicator of beauty, even forced upon them.
Of course, that was a thing of the past. It was a bizarre custom, so it didn't last long.
There was no need to talk about chronic diseases to anyone other than family members. Not only was it rude to ask about her health, but Ezet and Diarin were ambiguous. Although it wasn't about their remaining status, it was about the engagement that would eventually break…
"You don't have to worry about it that much."
Seriously, what if you didn't really care?
Then she felt a little embarrassed. Diarin scratched her cheek slightly, awkwardly. She changed the topic.
"But it's a bit sad that you didn't tell me the castle was repaired. Did you want to see me humiliated that much?"
"No!"
Diarin was even more startled as Limoud shouted in surprise. Seeing his widened, pale purple eyes, Limoud was even more embarrassed and stretched his neck.
"Hey, at first…!"
His voice crawled in.
"At first, I didn't want to, but… I was going to tell you later. I couldn't find the right time, so I hesitated, and then we arrived."
"Even so, I didn't know you'd be like that."
Limoud felt like he was sweating profusely now. That, in fact, was a little questionable.
He lacked some training, so he couldn't control his mind, but did Ezet do that? He was a rare match for the shallow water he was treading.
"That, um. Maybe you didn't know… or didn't want to… I've never seen the castle completely repaired."
"I see."
Pretending to be convinced, but not really. Limoud wasn't an idiot, so he could tell she didn't truly understand.
"Well, okay. Half of it is a joke. It's natural that you hate Concel."
It hurt her heart to do that to Ezet, but it was unavoidable. Diarin thought so.
Limoud said nothing.
It was true that he hated Concel. He still hated him deeply.
And it was also true that he hated Diarin. She was one of the most direct ways Duke Concel had to reach out to Ezet.
'But is it still like that?'
Actually, he didn't know.
The anger against Concel was still there. But as for Diarin—he wasn't as angry as before.
Truly, Limoud was the first to ever see the lady vomiting blood. He was also the first to see her take a pledge to kill herself.
Only the Duke of Concel would benefit from this marriage.
So, isn't this woman just a tool, after all?
Tool…
Limoud refused Diarin's invitation to have dinner with her and went back to the knight's quarters.
In the room he had returned to after a long time, the basin was filled with cold water, thin ice floating on the surface. After putting his face into the ice water a few times, Limoud was able to exhale.
***
"Lady, is this all you'll need?"
"Yes, Miss Shay."
The maid named Shay had never seen her before. Perhaps she was a new maid assigned after Diarin had left. Seeing that the clothes she wore were different, she seemed to be a maid being promoted.
Diarin looked around the bedroom. It was the same bedroom she used two years ago at the North Gate Castle.
At that time, Baron Dublen had been very diligent in decorating the bedroom. After Diarin returned to Duke Concel, it must have been abandoned. They had quickly wiped off the dust, but she felt a strange sense of time lost.
Diarin looked at Shay without much thought and suddenly had a question.
'Why did you turn that on?'
Shay was turning on the magic stone heating stove. When she looked again, the leather-covered box Shay was carrying was full of sparkling magic stones.
Usually, the castles of nobles living in the north are equipped with two types of stoves.
One is a traditional wood-burning stove.
The other is a heating stove that uses magic stones.
The wood stove was inexpensive to maintain. However, many nobles disliked the soot or the burning ashes that came with using the fireplace.
Therefore, nobles much preferred the heating stove that used magic stones over wood. It was clean, had no smell, and the color was subtle—good for setting the atmosphere.
The problem was the price of the magic stone. It was quite expensive.
A magic stone that can store fire energy by compressing it with magic was sold exclusively in the Four Seasons Towers, and the price was steep because it was disposable. It couldn't even be compared to firewood.
But the aristocracy spends a lot on luxury. Although traditional wood-burning stoves were used in stables and kitchens, most of the bedrooms of direct family members used magic stone heating stoves.
There was also a magic stone heating stove installed in Diarin's bedroom in North Gate Castle. Even two years ago, it had always been filled with magic stones when Diarin was in the room.
"That was then."
Of course, she hadn't been completely hostile back then, but Diarin had still been far less hated than now.
At the time, Baron Dublen was a bit soft on Diarin. Back then, Ezet was just an ordinary prince with nothing but looks, skills, and bloodline.
In order to strengthen the Duke's power, Duke Concel had forced Ezet into the engagement, but there was no reason to do more than that. To be honest, Ezet's utility value wasn't that great.
"I didn't know you'd do this for me even now."
The magic stones in the castle were an important resource, directly managed by the butler, like silver tableware and wine. In other words, Baron Dublen had personally given it to Shay to bring.