Second Month (6)

The Duchess’s room was shrouded in white cloth.

Henrik and Connie wore awed expressions as they opened the door—said to only be opened once a month for cleaning.

As they moved to bow respectfully, Alicia quickly stopped them.

She instructed Daisy to bring her immediate necessities and to tidy the room.

She declared that she would be staying here for a while to care for the Grand Duke.

Both statements—staying for a while and tending to the Grand Duke—moved Henrik and Connie once again.

Smiles spread across Annie and Lise’s faces.

Alicia added that it was purely for nursing and held no deeper meaning.

Everyone in the room pretended not to hear her as they basked in admiration.

Alicia requested that Connie assign rooms to Daisy, Annie, and Lise.

She also asked that trays with warm water, clean cloths, and cloths of proper size be delivered to the bedroom door every hour.

Meals, too, were to be served in proper timing.

Preferably, the meals should be easy to eat with one hand.

After issuing these instructions, Alicia simply said, “I’m counting on you,” and returned to the Grand Duke’s chambers.

She had just over ten minutes.

The distance from the Duchess’s room to the Grand Duke’s was significant.

When Alicia returned and pulled back the curtains, Reichardt’s elbow twitched involuntarily.

“Why is this house so damn big?”

Panting, Alicia grumbled between sharp breaths.

Reichardt gave a sigh of relief at the comfort enveloping his arm and hand and smiled faintly.

That gentle smile gave way to a calmer voice.

“There’s a secret passage between the Duchess’s room and the Duke’s chamber.”

Catching her breath with heaving shoulders, Alicia grimaced.

No wonder.

When she said she needed to return to Reichardt, Henrik had hesitated as if he wanted to say something.

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?”

Alicia grumbled, and Reichardt replied lazily and sluggishly.

“You can’t access the room unless the lock on the Duke’s side is released. Same goes the other way.”

“Then keep it unlocked.”

Alicia demanded firmly.

She was still dizzy from running within the time limit.

Her head spun.

Her face, flushed from the effort of slowing her racing heart, remained pink.

“Alright.”

Reichardt replied meekly, burying his cheek deeper into the pillow.

Alicia kept her activity to a minimum as she stayed by Reichardt’s side.

Meals, changing clothes, bathing—she did all of it quickly.

Meals were the easiest.

Henrik and Connie fulfilled every request faithfully.

Beyond mealtimes, they also brought trays with tea or easy-to-eat snacks.

Her clothing became increasingly simple.

Instead of elaborate dresses, Alicia brought her jewelry box to the Grand Duke’s room and adorned herself with accessories.

Rings, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, hairpieces, brooches.

Without them, she felt she would vanish between the luxurious bed and his striking presence.

Bathing was the most troublesome.

No matter how quickly she washed, Reichardt’s breath would be ragged with pain by the time she returned.

When she worried aloud, he said something ridiculous:

“I’ll be fine for a short while.”

And then told her to go.

It was indeed ridiculous.

But Alicia couldn’t abandon basic human dignity, so she stood up and left.

Reichardt, on the other hand, didn’t eat or wash.

And yet he was fine.

He could go a full day without even sipping water.

Apparently, he rarely slept either—only dozing off when the pain lessened momentarily.

Observing his state gave Alicia déjà vu.

Back in hell, she’d been the same.

Unless overcome by tension or collapsing into unconscious sleep, she almost never slept.

She could go without food or bathing and be fine.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Alicia was in the middle of eating a cookie.

Connie’s special cookies had big chunks of chocolate embedded in them.

Crispy outside, moist inside.

“What?”

Her lips, mid-bite into a cookie the size of her face, stared blankly at Reichardt.

“It’s been four days now, so we have six or seven left.”

Reichardt spoke and lowered his gaze.

The cookie crumb stuck to the corner of her plump lips distracted him immensely.

“You’re saying this lasts ten whole days?”

Thankfully, Alicia licked her lips and removed the crumb.

But her expression as she spoke made her dismay obvious.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

Reichardt apologized, but Alicia shook her head.

“I didn’t say that to get an apology.”

Ten days—ten whole days? She muttered variations of the same disbelief as she devoured the crispy cookie.

After the butter cookie, she sipped a delicately scented tea.

Whenever she fell deep into thought, she would pause her tea drinking entirely—only to suddenly gulp it down like water.

Their eyes met in the silence.

Setting down her teacup, Alicia spoke casually.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I’m not.”

Alicia and Reichardt had grown closer over the course of three days.

When Reichardt fell asleep, exhausted from the pain, Alicia cared for him.

When Alicia, worn out from staying by his side, dozed off, Reichardt watched over her.

Reichardt told her about the political climate around Tessen and the clans scattered across the continent.

The structure of the clans and the abilities of the clan masters.

The strengths and weaknesses of each clan.

The most effective ways to destroy them.

Why all clans had no choice but to pass through Tessen to enter the Empire.

Artifacts held by each clan and lost treasures.

The painting styles favored by the imperial family and stories behind their portraits.

What Alicia should consider when choosing a portrait artist.

Recommended painters.

The characteristics of the Emperor and the direct royal family, and how to behave around them.

Countless stories surrounding the Royal Academy.

Every story he shared delighted Alicia.

She reacted most eagerly to the duel episodes from the Royal Academy.

Her eyes sparkled at the tales of clan artifacts and lost treasures.

At the portrait stories, her gaze lingered in thoughtful silence.

And Alicia witnessed something she’d never imagined in her life—Reichardt Tessen’s full-body flattery.

Whenever she asked if he was okay or in pain, out of concern,

Reichardt would clasp her hands in both of his and pretend to pray like a devout worshiper.

But this was the same man who had rejected Alicia twice.

Even as she grew close to him, she reminded herself not to forget that.

At times, Alicia stared at him intently.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I pity you.”

Reichardt smiled at his haughty fiancée.

“Yes, I’m pitiful. So don’t let go of my hand.”

“Your Grace.”

“Go on.”

Alicia didn’t take her eyes off his face as she spoke.

“When you couldn’t hold my hand, how did you endure ten whole days? Don’t you have some kind of last-resort medicine for extreme situations?”

“I don’t.”

Alicia’s face turned grave.

Reichardt released the very hand he had sworn never to let go of and muttered,

“Just a moment.”

As soon as he let go, pain seemed to surge through him—he straightened and narrowed his eyes.

“Your hand…”

“I said it’s just a moment. I’m not attacking you.”

Reichardt said confidently and drew a dagger from his waist.

Alicia was startled to see a bedridden patient carrying a blade.

But the absurdity only escalated.

The sharp dagger spun through the air.

Reichardt rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing his left wrist.

And with his smooth, unscarred arm, he stabbed the dagger straight into it.

“…!”

Stabbing his own wrist without hesitation was grotesque.

But when the dagger was pulled free and a thin stream of blood appeared—only for the wound to instantly heal—Alicia felt a chill.

“Please don’t run away.”

Reichardt added belatedly.

“……”

Alicia watched him calmly clean and sheathe the dagger and said nothing.

She silently allowed him to reach for and hold her hand.

“I’m just using a greater pain to push out the smaller one temporarily.”

Reichardt said to her frozen expression.

Alicia’s face barely changed, yet it was still surprising that she allowed him to hold her hand.

Her purple eyes stared fixedly at his face, then drifted to his unmarked arm.

Her honest gaze was bold and unflinching.

“The wound just…”

Even as she spoke, Alicia wasn’t sure if she was forming coherent words.

“I don’t know the reason either.”

Reichardt replied lazily.

‘I don’t know either.’

Alicia bit her tongue to hold back the words that wanted to burst out.

“……”

Reichardt thought anyone who saw his condition would call him a demon or a monster.

The face in front of him seemed to be holding back a dozen questions.

He expected disgust, fear, or fascination—but instead, eyes filled with curiosity stared back.

‘Have you ever been to hell?’

Alicia struggled to keep herself from saying something foolish.

Until her thoughts settled, she shouldn’t speak.

Reichardt, watching the face that wouldn’t look away, let out a low throat sound.

He was clearly uncomfortable.

But Alicia’s curious purple gaze didn’t retreat.

“I’m not a demon. I’ve never been to hell. I don’t think it’s contagious either.”

Reichardt whispered softly, as if joking.

‘You haven’t been to hell, huh? I have.’

Alicia didn’t smile.

She glanced around with subtle eyes.

An odd sense of injustice crept in, and memories of her days of suffering triggered fresh irritation.

‘I’ve been to hell.’

A sudden urge to blurt it out and shock him surged inside her.

But Alicia held it back with all her might.

Her intense stare at Reichardt finally began to fade.

It wasn’t a good memory, but it was still an experience. That thought made her feel bitterly smug.

‘How do you know you’re not a demon? You can’t even say for sure it’s not contagious. That was me, too. What if…’

It lasted just a moment.

The seed of suspicion bloomed in her mind, then dispersed like smoke.

Something on the verge of surfacing vanished again.

Her train of thought shifted in an instant.

At this time, Reichardt was a fitting target for attack.

But with that kind of absurd healing power, there was no point.

Even if crushed by pain, he was an undefeated warrior—capable of wiping out assassins with ease.