Chapter 26

026.

Henesstia flinched at the mention of alcohol.

“Is it a place that sells alcohol?”

“Not exactly high-end, but looks like the kind of place that can serve mid-tier or better wine.”

Riad’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if in thought.

During the festival, most shops served beer.

It wasn’t uncommon to see people so drunk they rolled on the ground, or picked fights with anyone in sight, as if they’d lost all sense of decency.

Even though more guards were deployed for security, there were still plenty of men who dragged off women found alone in blind spots.

In short, the atmosphere was rough.

Compared to that, this place in front of them wasn’t a bad option at all.

In fact, during festival season, it was harder to find a shop not serving alcohol.

“Count… Riad.”

“……”

Riad paused and looked down at her.

Henesstia actually quite liked this quiet little place. It felt like somewhere they could have a decent meal in peace.

If he was okay with it, she thought they could have dinner here.

“Do you… not like it?”

One thing in particular had caught her eye on the menu—a fruit salad, her favorite. And it even had lemon in it.

When Riad stayed silent, Henesstia spoke again.

“I… think it’s nice.”

Riad’s gaze slowly settled on her. With that deep, steady look, he gave a slow nod.

* * *

The inside of the shop was nicer than expected.

It was clean, and the staff were polite. When she had agreed to come to the festival with Riad, Henesstia had assumed they’d eat after returning, but now she was seriously studying the menu the staff had brought.

“I want to have this salad.”

She had already decided on the dish before entering, so it took mere seconds to make her choice.

As Henesstia smoothly made her selection and closed the menu with a soft thud, Riad, who was still deciding on his own, raised an eyebrow with his chin resting on his hand.

“That damned pile of leaves again.”

“It has enough nutrients.”

After choosing her main, she looked over the desserts and drinks.

It was almost as fun as the festival itself to browse the menu.

It reminded her of the days when she and other young noble ladies would go out to the capital on fine days and enjoy tea at newly opened shops.

Of course, sitting in front of her now wasn’t one of those familiar ladies, and the wine list didn’t exactly scream elegance, but Henesstia still felt happy.

“Order some meat, too.”

“I won’t be able to finish it if I do.”

“Then just leave what you can’t eat.”

“It’s not right to waste food. Count—”

Count.

She had naturally been about to address him that way, but Henesstia shut her mouth.

When she was with the knights, she didn’t have to be so cautious, but here, she needed to watch her words. Otherwise, there was no point in wearing the uncomfortable robe.

“—Riad.”

Among nobles with titles, addressing someone by their name was rare.

It was allowed only for family, close friends, or those acknowledged by knight orders or scholarly circles rather than by their houses.

Fortunately, Henesstia had the right to call him Riad. Legally speaking, they were husband and wife. Besides, hadn’t he told her last time to call him by name?

Remembering that late-night moment in the bedroom, Henesstia fidgeted with her hands beneath the table.

“……”

“…?”

“…Damn.”

Riad’s eye twitched slightly. Then, brushing his hair back, he closed the menu.

He leaned back in his chair, let out a breath, then clenched his jaw and called for the server.

Before Henesstia could even gather her thoughts, he began ordering an enormous amount of food.

Enough that they’d probably have to connect several tables just to serve it all.

“You’ll need to eat too. If you can’t finish it, I will.”

“But eating food someone else already touched isn’t proper etiquette.”

“There’s no one else here. Why bother with etiquette?”

“Etiquette isn’t about whether someone is watching or not. Things like this—”

“Stop talking and just order your drink.”

Riad cut her off.

Feeling a bit grumpy, Henesstia turned to the drink menu.

Though she didn’t particularly enjoy alcohol, she was still a noble who liked pairing wine with cheese—so she could enjoy a glass or two.

Soon enough, the food and wine they ordered began to arrive. Though, not all of it—just part of the order.

Henesstia picked up a piece of the fresh salad set before her and took a bite.

Color returned to her face. Perhaps her palate had shifted completely after days of surviving on dried jerky, vegetables, and fruits—because it tasted even better than expected.

“How many bites are you going to split that tiny thing into?”

Riad, who had demolished his meat and potato stew in just a few spoonfuls, looked down at her meal with disapproval.

Pushing the bowl aside, he pulled the next dish toward himself. A steak—just rare enough to look juicy and appetizing.

He sliced the meat and picked up a piece with his fork.

She expected it to go straight into his mouth, but the steak stopped right in front of hers.

Henesstia blinked in confusion.

“Eat.”

“……”

“I let it slide this whole trip even though you didn’t have a proper bite of meat. At least have this.”

Didn’t you promise to eat properly on the first day? With that added, Henesstia had no choice but to open her mouth.

She only realized how embarrassing it was to open her mouth for someone else to feed her after the meat was pushed in.

After chewing for a bit, Henesstia was surprised to find it didn’t upset her stomach at all.

Lately, just seeing meat made her gag from the constant smell of blood, but now she was fine.

She had always liked meat. Once she confirmed she could handle it, her appetite returned. When Riad offered her another bite, she accepted it without complaint.

Paired with the tangy salad, it tasted even better.

Before she could finish swallowing, another piece was already in front of her.

“You’re eating well. I didn’t think something from a place like this would suit your taste.”

Henesstia, who accepted the food again without resistance, finished chewing, then softly scolded him.

“…What do you even think of me?”

“A precious lady. I brought home a precious lady—shouldn’t I feed her only the best?”

Unlike Henesstia, who had loosened her robe out of discomfort, Riad still wore his. She couldn’t see his expression.

“Precious lady.”

It was far better than being treated like an expensive burden or a hostage. In that moment, she felt she glimpsed how Riad saw her.

He didn’t hit her, didn’t lash out with cruel words—and that alone was more than enough.

Henesstia had no intention of asking for more, no delusion of hoping for it.

‘What could I even wish for from him to begin with?’

She finished chewing and took a sip of wine.

The slightly bitter aftertaste wasn’t bad at all.

* * *

They said they would arrive at the count’s territory tomorrow.

What would change once they arrived?

It had to be different from the barony.

It would be—everything… all of it.

She really hated it… But if she didn’t go, then Heron would…

Either way, it was something she couldn’t handle.

“I thought you could drink well. Why did you have three glasses if you were going to be like this?”

Henesstia stared blankly up at the moon hanging in the sky.

The noise ringing out from all around made her ears spin, but not so much that she couldn’t recognize the voice speaking so close by. Still, for some reason, she couldn’t understand the meaning of the words and blinked.

Then, someone wrapped something around her. Henesstia let herself be moved without resistance.

“Hold on. Straighten your neck. Yeah, like that.”

She had no intention of fighting back just because someone moved her body.

“Tsk. You were eating so well earlier, too.”

Henesstia let out a faint laugh at those words.

He was probably talking about alcohol, but since she’d had such a satisfying meal for the first time in a long while, her thoughts naturally shifted to food instead. Smiling lightly, she murmured in reply.

“I’ve always eaten well. Whatever it is.”

She didn’t pick at her vegetables, loved meat so juicy it danced in her mouth, and adored sweet desserts and tart cakes alike.

“You eat well?”

“So well that when I was little, my brother used to restrict my desserts.”

She cupped her cheeks with both hands. Her skin was burning hot—so why did she feel so cold? Her body shivered.

The time she’d drunk the most in her life was probably when she forgot she’d already had a glass at a party and went for another.

Even then, she remembered halfway through and stopped, so it couldn’t have been more than one and a half glasses total.

Her head was foggy.

“Then why don’t you eat like that now?”

“…My stomach…”

“Yeah? Your stomach?”

“My stomach just feels too awful.”

It felt like anything she ate would come right back up. Like every bite would press her body down in agony. The urge to vomit what she had just chewed and swallowed kept rising and rising.

That’s why… that’s what it was.

“Does your stomach still hurt now?”

To the question, Henesstia shook her head firmly.

No, not now. In fact, she felt better than she had in months.

“Then what is it?”

The voice sounded far away, like something out of a dream.

What is it, really? Why is she like this?

Henesstia knew the answer but couldn’t say it. She probably never would—for the rest of her life.

Just then, a hand reached toward her. A large hand, casting a shadow over her head, made her flinch and squeeze her eyes shut, her shoulders trembling in sudden fear.

The person reaching out hesitated and froze midair.

“…What are you doing.”

The voice, suddenly stiff and cold, made Henesstia shrink.

“I said, what are you doing.”

“I—I was just…”

He reached out so suddenly… she thought he was going to hit her… Henesstia mumbled, her lips trembling.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest.

Had she really grown so weak just from being free of the baron’s estate for a while? She clutched her chest tightly and stole a glance at the figure in front of her. She couldn’t see his face.

She rolled her pale, frightened eyes toward him. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Did she really do something wrong, and he’d meant to hit her?

Then… then what should she do?

Panicking, trembling with anxiety, she brought her filthy hands to her lips. But instead of pain, a hand landed softly on her shoulder.

It was such a gentle touch that all her tension melted away.

“Henesstia.”

Her name was called.

“Henesstia Ingel.”

The hand lightly pressed down on her shoulder, and Henesstia slowly raised her head.

Not Ardin. Ingel.

Not the Ardin Princess—but Countess Ingel.

She should have been used to it by now, but it still didn’t feel real. Even though it was the title she’d longed to hear, it didn’t bring her joy.

And she knew exactly why.

It wasn’t because she wanted recognition that she wanted to become “Ingel.”

It was to make it easier to carry out what Heron had ordered her to do.

“Am I… really Ingel?”

The shattered pieces of emotions, so shaken they could no longer hold form, stabbed painfully at her.

The person she once loved more than anyone—Heron—was now the one she feared most.

Her peaceful life had flipped overnight, and every day since had been unstable. Even when she felt a sliver of happiness, it felt so luxurious she didn’t know what to do with it.

Maybe this is what it felt like to be a broken doll, one that had learned emotions it wasn’t supposed to.

It wouldn’t be strange at all if she suddenly collapsed, if she shattered like glass from simply existing.

And yet, she had to endure.

Because her mother was still in Heron’s hands.

All she had left now was this frail body and her ailing mother.

What if her mother suddenly passed away? If she lost her mother too, she didn’t know how she’d go on.

She was so ill, and Heron wasn’t someone who’d care for her kindly… the thought ate away at her.

“I’m not Ingel.”

“…You’re so fickle.”

The voice from her dream grew just a bit colder.

Without knowing what she was saying anymore, Henesstia pleaded.

“Please don’t call me Ingel. I beg you. Keep calling me Ardin… Let me die as Ardin.”

Would that erase this flimsy guilt? If everyone hated her, maybe it’d be easier to push them all into ruin.

“Why should I?”

The cold reply made her chest ache.

No one knew how terrifying Heron truly was.

How far he’d go, what he’d do to get what he wanted.

“The moment you called yourself Ingel, it was already over. I gave you a chance—you refused it. From now on, you have to live as Ingel, and die as Ingel.”

The chilling, dangerous voice sent a shiver down her spine. And yet, the warmth that enveloped her body did not fade.

She couldn’t bring herself to say that warmth hurt.