Chapter 27
027
When she opened her eyes, it was a bright, sunny morning.
Henesstia shot up instinctively, only to clutch her head in pain as a sharp ache surged through it. Just then, a voice came from above.
“Oh! Are you alright?”
She reacted quickly to the unfamiliar woman’s voice.
As she sat up and lifted her head, she saw a woman carrying a basin of water.
It was immediately clear—just like the last time they stayed in a town, this woman was here to assist her.
“I’m Atisha, a maid working here at the inn. I was just bringing water for your morning wash. Would you like to wash now?”
Why does my head hurt so much? Henesstia pressed on her temples and nodded.
The woman who introduced herself as Atisha efficiently set the washbasin before her and brought over a towel that seemed to have been dried perfectly under the sun.
When she finished washing her face, Atisha gently wiped the remaining water for her.
“We get noble guests often in our village. Since this is the nicest inn in town, my skills keep improving. I may not look it, but I’m quite good at this.”
She said it with a smile, and the confidence seemed well-earned. Every motion was smooth and unobtrusive, making the whole process feel natural.
Apart from her introduction, Atisha said nothing, letting a peaceful silence settle over the room.
Since today was the day they’d return to the count’s territory, her clothes were even more extravagant than the ones she’d worn over the past few days.
Fingering the fabric, Henesstia quietly peeked out the window, where the streets were still bustling with activity.
Then, an obvious question surfaced in her mind.
‘…How did I get back last night?’
She remembered dining at the restaurant, remembered sipping some wine… but everything after that was blank.
She’d heard people could lose memories if they drank too much, but she hadn’t expected it to happen from just three glasses of wine.
‘…Was it really that strong? Or am I just that bad with alcohol?’
Though she was troubled by the missing memory, the only person who could fill in the blanks was Riad—and she didn’t have the courage to go ask him.
So instead, she quietly closed her lips.
Still, just in case, she cautiously asked the woman in front of her.
“You said your name was Atisha, right? Can you tell me how I got back to the inn yesterday?”
Atisha, who was setting up a delicious-looking breakfast of toast, bacon, and other morning foods on the table, wiped her hands on her apron and replied.
“It wasn’t very late, so I remember. If I recall, you returned in your husband’s arms.”
That didn’t make her feel any better.
At the unexpected words, Henesstia stiffened.
“…What?”
“The festival’s still going on, so we’ve had lots of guests come back drunk. It’s not so unusual.”
In his arms? Henesstia’s face turned pale.
Did she really pass out drunk at the restaurant, and Riad had to carry her all the way back? He could’ve ordered the knights to do it—but he carried her himself?
“I… I see. Thank you for telling me.”
“It was nothing, really. Will you have breakfast now?”
The food was heavier than what she usually ate in the mornings, but it was all soft enough to chew and swallow—yet every bite felt like a stone going down.
She had no idea how she even got through the meal.
Did she make a mistake last night? Say something she shouldn’t have?
If it involved Heron—if she’d let something slip—there’d be no taking it back.
With those thoughts circling her head, she couldn’t bear to stay in the room any longer.
“It’s a shame you’re leaving already. If you ever return, please come visit our inn again.”
When Henesstia said she’d be going out and asked for help preparing, Atisha helped fasten her outerwear and spoke cheerfully.
Henesstia doubted she’d ever return to this town, or this inn—but still, she forced a gentle reply at the soft-spoken voice that eased the atmosphere.
“Of course. I hope we do meet again someday.”
Her mind was already in complete disarray.
Even as she walked, her thoughts were tangled.
Should she go see Riad? If he looked upset, then… it meant she really did make a mistake, right?
If she said something she absolutely shouldn’t have—what was she supposed to do now?
‘Fix it… I have to fix it…’
Henesstia flinched and froze as she swung open the door.
She’d expected to see Bron, but standing there instead was Igni Theon.
As if he knew she would come out, he simply looked down at her in silence, then turned.
“Let’s go.”
“…Where to?”
“Weren’t you heading to see the Count?”
He started walking without another word.
Henesstia rubbed her eyes, which kept pricking with the threat of tears, and followed behind. His steps were too quick for her to keep up easily.
It was a cold dismissal.
She told herself it was because he had never liked her—but the situation made her even more anxious.
To deceive someone means you can’t be sincere in front of them.
You flinch at every little thing, always fearing your lie might be discovered, anxious and on edge…
And the more serious the secret, the heavier the price.
Deceiving others was something only those with the stomach for it could do.
Heron, who deceived the world with ease, would never understand the weight Henesstia now carried.
‘He wouldn’t have told Riad about what Heron made me do… right? Or about Father’s death… or that I resented everything I went through in the barony and ran away because I was scared…’
She almost stumbled halfway, but barely managed to stay on her feet.
And then, when Riad came into view—
Henesstia was breathing heavily, chest heaving.
Noticing the sweat pouring from her like rain, Igni stopped. He turned to look at her and sneered.
“Putting on a show, are you?”
What?
“If you’re trying to win the Count’s sympathy, forget it. Even a child wouldn’t fall for such a pathetic act.”
At his cold words, Henesstia faltered and bit down hard on her lip. Still, her breath came out in ragged gasps. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to breathe.
Igni’s eyes were filled with disdain.
It was the look of someone who thought she was only acting pitiful because he had been harsh with her.
Igni observed her.
Would she lash out? Break down crying on the floor? Or ignore him?
He waited in silence, watching.
But time passed, and Henesstia said nothing.
She only stood there, quietly, staring blankly at the sword hanging at his waist.
For the first time, something flickered in Igni’s usually expressionless eyes.
“No one in the count’s estate welcomes you.”
And finally, Henesstia understood what he really wanted.
He wished she would yell at him, curse him, cry in front of everyone—put on some despicable show.
So that everyone would have a reason to truly hate her.
Knights who had survived death alongside Igni were all around. No matter how she reacted, they were ready to despise her.
Maybe even Riad.
“…You.”
If Igni were to raise his hand against her here, no one would stop him. No one would blame him.
It would all be Henesstia’s fault—for turning him into someone capable of it.
“I…”
She opened her mouth, let out a sound—but it scattered uselessly into the air.
I want to run. I’m uncomfortable. I’m scared.
A storm of emotions twisted violently in her chest.
What should she say? What words would make him step aside? What could she say to pull his attention away from her?
“……”
Henesstia’s breathing grew even more erratic.
Ah—this was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to face the knights for too long. She remembered clearly why she had tried to avoid greeting them on that first day.
It was because of this. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together.
Afraid they’d see that there really was something wrong with her.
She forced herself to hold her breath.
If nothing else, she wanted to control her breathing—something anyone could see was completely out of rhythm.
She couldn’t control a single thing, but if even her breathing was out of her grasp, that would be… that would be far too pitiful.
“Don’t concern yourself with me.”
Her throat, as if something had been blocking it, barely opened.
What she said came out harsher than she intended. She fixed her unfocused gaze somewhere—anywhere—trying not to let her trembling body betray her voice. She forced strength into her limbs and steadied her words.
“You think… I don’t know that you—that all of you—don’t welcome me?”
Was she saying this right?
What kind of expression did she have? What kind of voice was she using?
“So this is why you insisted on being my escort. Just so you could do this.”
It felt like she was being punished for the brief joy she allowed herself the night before, when she’d stepped out to enjoy the festival.
As if fate was saying, “How dare you enjoy yourself.”
Her nails dug painfully into her palms, leaving deep marks. Her hands were a mess. The palms were covered with scratches she’d made herself, and her fingertips still bore the wounds from when she’d bitten them raw.
“If your reason for volunteering to guard me was just to torment me, then you made the wrong choice.”
The wounds that had started to heal during the carriage journey had reopened like old scabs being picked again.
It felt like these wounds would never truly heal. Even if they tried to—she would just tear them open again.
Henesstia’s hair swayed gently in the breeze.
Behind the fine strands, her face twisted strangely—somewhere between a smile and a sob—as she looked up at Igni.
The pain she’d borne all this time… in this moment, it became unbearable.
She spoke without thinking.
“If you really want to hurt me, you’d be better off dragging me off late at night and beating me like a disobedient hunting dog.”
“…Do you even realize what you’re saying right now?”
“I’m just telling the truth.”
What Henesstia feared most was violence directed at her.
That was why she feared cruelty—because it might turn into physical harm.
“Drag you off and… do what?”
His voice turned sharp, edged with fury.
“What exactly are you telling me to do to you?!”
Igni shouted, but Henesstia didn’t answer.
The words she had thrown out couldn’t be taken back, so she remained silent, closing her eyes.
