Chapter 1. The Question I Want to Ask (2021.07.01)
Year 321 of the Svergengen Empire. Spring, the 7th year of Emperor Bolstak II’s reign. Bright drops of blood dripped onto the young leaves of dark opal basil seedlings.
“Oh my!”
Before Frida’s hand could even reach her nose, people around her rushed over in a panic.
“L-Lady, are you all right?”
“Oh dear, what should we do? You’re bleeding, you’re bleeding!”
Ricardo Molly, who had been holding a basil seedling, threw it on the ground and hurried to kneel before her. His hands, rough from a life spent holding a sword, hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure of what to do. The other servants, who had been planting herbs nearby, jumped up and started to panic.
Ricardo’s son, Dominic, quickly took off the cloth around his neck and handed it to her.
“Please press this on your nose for now. And the rest of you, don’t just stand there—go get some water!”
“Yes, right away!”
At Dominic’s order, the servants ran out of the field.
“Father, what are you doing? Go call the doctor!”
Pushed by his son’s words, Ricardo turned to run into the manor, but he was stopped when Frida grabbed his sleeve. She shook her head, her sunshade hat swaying elegantly above her forehead.
“It’s all right, Ricardo. It’s just a nosebleed. It’s nothing serious, so please stay here.”
Ricardo looked at her as if she had told him the sun rose at night and set in the morning.
“How can it be nothing when our precious Duchess has a nosebleed? Of course it’s something! Just wait here. I’ll go get the doctor right away.”
Even as he hurried off, Ricardo carefully removed Frida’s hand from his sleeve as if handling a child. He asked her to be patient a little longer, then dashed away.
“Please, Duchess, just sit down and rest. You might faint again like last time. Here, please sit.”
Dominic took off his jacket, spread it on the ground, and urged her to sit.
“That was ages ago…”
Frida sighed and sat down on his jacket. Otherwise, she knew they’d try to carry her straight into the manor. It had only happened once—in the last three years, she had only fainted in front of them that one time, when she couldn’t handle the strong southern sun. But ever since, the Molly father and son treated her like a sickly woman who might faint every day. Well, they were mercenaries from the harsh southern region of Lapace, after all. In their eyes, it was probably strange that someone as small as Frida could walk at all.
She pressed the cloth Dominic had given her to her nose and pushed up her hat.
“Is the bleeding not stopping?”
Dominic looked from the blood-soaked cloth to Frida, not knowing what to do.
He watched her small face turn red with worry. Then, suddenly, he turned his back to her.
“No, this won’t do. Please get on my back. It’ll be faster than waiting for the doctor. Hurry.”
But instead of climbing onto his back, Frida looked at him with her pale purple eyes and said:
“Dominic, don’t tell Muriel. If she finds out, she’ll lock me in my room for days again.”
“If you wanted a secret, you shouldn’t have sent loudmouth Molly into the castle.”
A cold, heavy woman’s voice spoke up behind Frida. Dominic leaned in and whispered:
“Tell her you’ll stay inside for three days. It’s better than being locked in for a whole week like last time.”
Frida hunched her shoulders and turned around. Muriel Rosivalt, her guard knight who had come with her from her family home, stared at her with sharp gray eyes.
“I told you, you can’t go outside more than twice a week…”
“Move aside! Why are you blocking the way when it’s urgent?”
Ricardo suddenly appeared, pushing the stern knight aside. He tossed the doctor over his shoulder straight onto the dirt and yelled:
“Hurry and check the Duchess! If anything happens to her, I’ll break your neck!”
The gentle spring wind blew through the noisy commotion.
Thanks to the quick first aid, the Duchess’s nosebleed incident ended with her being banned from going out for a short while.
“You have to stay inside the manor for three days.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
Frida, who was filling a basket with colorful flowers, just nodded, not really listening to Muriel’s scolding.
“How are there so many kinds of flowers here? There are flowers I’ve never even seen before in the North. Muriel, have you seen these before?”
“No. I’ve seen plenty.”
“Really? I haven’t.”
“That’s because you always stayed inside the house.”
“Oh…”
She realized that was true. Lifting her flower-filled basket, Frida smiled.
“Aren’t they pretty, Muriel? The Duke will like them too, right?”
Muriel wanted to agree, but she didn’t know what to say. Frida’s husband, Duke Richard, had been unconscious ever since his injury three years ago. How could he possibly like the flowers? Reading Muriel’s gloomy face, Frida walked past her, lips twitching.
“He can’t move, but he can still breathe. Maybe he can smell the flowers.”
“Maybe.”
“Sometimes I think he understands me. Last night, his finger… Look, it moved like this!”
Muriel watched Frida wiggle her finger sadly. Still, even if it was just false hope, it was better than nothing. To keep vigil beside an unconscious husband, hope was all she had.
When they arrived at the bedroom, Frida took off her sunhat. Her skin was so white that her veins showed, and her hair was dazzlingly pale. Her mysterious purple eyes sparkled.
“Muriel. I’m really fine. I promise.”
“Three days. Not less. Remember, you are… different from others.”
Muriel knew Frida didn’t like hearing that, but it was the truth. She couldn’t let her be reckless.
“I know, I know.”
Frida, hurt by Muriel’s words, didn’t hide her annoyance.
“Who doesn’t know that? Hmph…”
She slammed the door shut.
“Ah!”
She had a habit of looking at the bed first, and was so startled that she dropped her basket. Flowers spilled everywhere.
“D-Duke?”
After three years, Duke Daniel Richard’s consciousness returned, suddenly and without warning.
“Ugh…”
The first thing he noticed was the faint burnt smell of wood. Next came the feeling of the gentle wind on his skin. With these two senses, a faint girl’s voice echoed in his mind:
“Hestia… Hestia… Waaa…”
It mixed with the noise around him and faded away. Then a gruff boy’s voice:
“Stop crying. No one comes back from the dead just because you cry.”
His mother’s voice suddenly rushed in:
“Survive, Daniel. What matters is staying alive. No matter what, just keep living.”
The memories came and went in a rush. For the first time in three years, Daniel’s eyelids slowly lifted. The pattern of ash wood on the ceiling slowly became clear. He blinked a few times and realized:
‘Hah, I survived again.’
He almost laughed at how tough his life was. He tried to sit up, but his body felt strange, heavy and stiff.
‘What is this? My body feels like it’s not mine.’
He tried to move his fingers. They were stiff at first, but slowly loosened up. He moved his ankles too—thankfully, there was feeling there. He pushed himself up on the bed.
“Ugh…”
With a rough noise, he managed to sit up.
“Haah… haah…”
The window must have been open, because the breeze cooled the sweat on his neck.
“Hm…”
He tried again, and this time managed to lift his hand to his forehead and search his memory. What was the last thing he remembered? Oh, right—Arthur Nottingen threw a spear at Dominic. Daniel jumped from his horse without thinking and then hit his head…
Bang! The door suddenly opened, and Daniel instinctively reached for his waist, but there was no sword. He looked up to see who had entered.
A woman with dazzlingly white hair appeared—so bright, he wondered if he had died and was seeing an angel.
‘Wait… Did I die instead of waking up?’
But he had never heard of an angel speaking Svergengen language.
“D-Duke?”
“My goodness… are you really awake?”
Then he remembered. Before the news of Nottingen’s son’s capture, he had been at his wedding—with this woman, who must have brought the fresh scent of the forest with her.
Realizing who she was, Daniel pressed his aching forehead and answered dryly:
“That’s what I want to ask you.”
