“Huff… huff…”
Her breath caught in her throat. The ground beneath was slick from the downpour. Her skirt had long been stained with muddy water.
Sweat or raindrops, she couldn’t tell, soaked her face. She wiped her eyes with the damp hem of her skirt. Her wet hair clung to her fingers in tangled strands.
The cold air mixed with rain cut sharply through her lungs, but she could not stop.
She hesitated for only a moment because she felt as if the Grand Duke might catch her.
‘If he catches me… I might really die.’
By now, Decar had taken on the form of a terrifying beast in Ophelia’s mind.
Her imagination ran wild, envisioning him grabbing her by the neck and yanking her away with one hand.
Perhaps that was why—
“…!”
When she met him in the pouring rain, Ophelia froze, unable to even scream.
“Ha… Ophelia.”
Decar swallowed. As if holding back deep emotions, his rigid shoulders and protruding jaw heightened the tension.
Ophelia gasped, her face pale. Whether it was from the cold rain or sheer fear, her shoulders trembled.
Decar, looking down at her, blinked slowly.
“…Let’s stop and go back.”
“N-no.”
Her voice low, and her shoulders shaking, Ophelia retreated step by step.
‘I’m going to die.’
A strong warning rang in her head. She could not be caught. She had to escape. At all costs.
Seized by this intense thought, Ophelia spun and ran again. But soon, a strange hand seized her.
“Kyaaaah!”
Her terrified scream cut through the rain.
***
Back in the same room.
Ophelia had returned to the room she had barely escaped from.
She was genuinely terrified—of Decar, of the power of a noble who could command her at will, of the fact that she could not leave here as she wished.
Decar draped a towel over Ophelia’s shoulders as she sat in despair. Her faint tremors were evident.
“Dry yourself. You’ll catch a cold.”
When Ophelia flinched yet remained still, Decar let out a low sigh. He fetched another towel and gently dried the water from her hair.
“I had warm water prepared for you.”
“…Am I going to die now?”
Clutching her damp skirt, Ophelia’s voice shook with fear. Decar narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.
“…I don’t kill someone just because they ran away.”
His blunt tone gave her little reassurance. Ophelia shivered, staring up at him, her large green eyes trembling. Watching them closely, Decar added,
“If I had intended to kill you, I wouldn’t even come to fetch you.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
Decar frowned sharply, letting out a sigh before speaking.
“Do I need a reason to bring my wife home?”
“I’m not your wife…”
A sharp note of disbelief cut through the air.
“It seems you really want to refuse me. Now I’m curious why.”
“I just wanted to go home.”
“Ha. Your home is here.”
“On what basis can you say that?”
“Basis?”
Decar’s ashen eyes glinted as he fixed his gaze on her.
“You do realize that in this mansion, only the two of us know about the secret passage you tried to use to escape. You ran off through it, and yet you still deny it?”
What…?
Ophelia blinked, staring at him blankly.
“I… I only found it due to an odd irregularity in the wall’s structure.”
A difference of only a span or two discovered by the naked eye?
No matter how much she looked at it, it was more reasonable to assume that she had used the passage she already knew. In other words, Ophelia was lying.
“…That’s ridiculous.”
Decar’s expression darkened noticeably. Startled, Ophelia lowered her eyes.
A short silence followed.
‘I can’t just stay here.’
If she let the misunderstanding deepen, who knew what might happen?
Biting her lips, Ophelia mustered up her courage and spoke.
“I’m really not her, Grand Duke.”
Her trembling voice broke the silence. Cold seeped into her wet skin, making her stutter.
“I’m just… someone who happened to have red hair and green eyes, someone who happens to look a lot like the Grand Duchess.”
As she spoke, sadness crept in. Why must such coincidences cause her such suffering?
And even her name was the same…
She understood why the confusion might arise, but it felt deeply unjust.
“It’s really a misunderstanding, Grand Duke…”
“Ophelia.”
A low voice called her. Gasping in breath, she looked up and continued.
“Let’s say the kidnapping and confinement were all a misunderstanding. You don’t need to compensate for the broken front door. I just… I just want to go home.”
The intensity of her plea made Decar hesitate, his eyes lingering on her as he silently weighed her words.
“Why go this far…”
Watching her reddening eyes, Ophelia felt an odd sensation and lowered her gaze.
“Even if you deny it, your home is here at the Grand Duke’s castle.”
The damp voice fell above her head. It sounded angry, or perhaps sorrowful. Yet, she could not bring herself to admit it.
‘Is there anything I can use to convince him?’
Chewing her lips, Ophelia’s eyes sparkled with resolve. Like a prey finding a chance to survive, her heart raced.
“You… Ah! The Grand Duchess is twenty-three this year, right? I’m only twenty-one! The ages don’t match.”
A deep crease appeared above Decar’s thick eyebrows.
“Do you have proof? Someone who knew you from birth, or a birth certificate?”
Ophelia’s expression darkened.
“…No.”
She was an orphan. She would not have filed a birth certificate, as even ordinary commoners often didn’t. And any childhood connections were long gone.
“Ah!”
Her defeated face lifted once more, eyes shining.
She hastily lifted the muddy hem of her wet dress, revealing her calves and pale thighs. Decar, who had been observing her expressionlessly, frowned slightly.
“I have a large scar on my thigh. The Grand Duchess wouldn’t have such a hideous scar.”
Ophelia confidently revealed the scar on her inner thigh.
It was deep and dark, a scar that hardly matched the life the Grand Duchess was presumed to have lived.
Decar examined it, frowning.
“When did you get that scar?”
“Uh…”
Ophelia’s words faltered as she recalled.
“It’s such an old scar that I don’t remember when it happened.”
“Well… it doesn’t seem that old. It’s been a few years since the Duchess disappeared, so it could have happened then.”
Decar’s argument wasn’t entirely wrong.
“The so-called proof you claim isn’t very credible.”
“I have plenty of proof that you are my wife.”
Slowly, his damp eyes disappeared and reappeared beneath his eyelids. The emotions that had flickered were gone, replaced by a chilling aura. He looked angry, and Ophelia sealed her lips.
Despite his cold gaze, a beautiful smile adorned his handsome face.
Decar slowly bent forward, reaching out.
The hem she had lifted slipped from his touch, covering her skin again.
The gentle gesture felt icy.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, but this is as far as I’ll go along.”
Ophelia felt wronged but could not speak. Sadly, he was right—she had no proof to convince him, at least for now.
Knock, knock—
A light knock came. Decar exhaled softly and rose.
“Looks like the warm water is ready. Wash and rest. Ah, and don’t even think about leaving through the secret passage again. I’ve already blocked it.”
As he turned to leave, Ophelia grabbed the sleeve of his coat.
His cold gaze swept over her, as if daring her to speak.
Her trembling eyes steadied.
“If evidence comes out proving I’m not the Grand Duchess, then… what will you do?”
Decar’s expression darkened, as if certain that would never happen. He held her gaze in silence, then gave a subtle smile.
“If such proof appears, I’ll do as you wish.”
“As I wish?”
“Yes. I will admit my mistake and even compensate you.”
Biting her lips, Ophelia looked up at him, green eyes sparkling with a glimmer of hope.
“You promise?”
“If evidence appears.”
Their wills stood in perfect opposition.
Decar did not like it. He seemed to fear she might escape his grasp.
“Until then, this will be your home.”
Decar’s large hand fell lightly on hers. Despite his cold gaze, his touch was warm.
“And, I suppose you’ll have to pretend to be my wife.”
Thunk.
A scrap of cloth fell from between his fingers.
“Nothing will change anyway.”
With those confident words, Decar departed.
