Ophelia carried a basket full in her arms, her steps light. Her neatly braided red hair swayed with each movement. Sunlight shone bright and clear over the quiet country road. Even the little birds darting through the branches seemed to be rejoicing.

The peacefulness that welled up made a smile bloom deeper across Ophelia’s lips.

Her home came into view not far ahead, and she quickened her steps. A familiar sight—her neighbor Jack was out in his garden.

“Hello! Uncle Jack!”

Ophelia waved energetically toward him.

“Ophelia.”

Jack’s face clouded the moment he noticed her. Glancing toward her house, he took a couple of uneasy steps closer.

“Someone came to see you.”

Jack lowered his voice into a whisper.

“Visitors?”

Tilting her head, Ophelia turned toward her house. Now that she looked closely, a carriage and several unfamiliar horses stood at the back. Her clear face carried no hint of caution, which only deepened Jack’s worry.

“They came with armed men. Something must be wrong, don’t you think?”

“Really? Hmm. I can’t think of anyone who’d come see me…”

Ophelia rolled her clear green eyes, head tilted in curiosity. No matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t imagine a visitor coming for her—much less one accompanied by armed men.

“Maybe they’re just mistaken?”

She smiled brightly, oblivious to Jack’s unease.

“I’ll go ask what business they have!”

And with that, she breezed past him, steps still light, heading toward her small cottage.

“Be careful, child!”

Jack shouted after her retreating figure, powerless to stop her. She turned back, waving her hand cheerfully, like a little bird in flight.

Jack swallowed a sigh that threatened to burst out.

‘You heard the stories, right? About the Grand Duke’s wife who ran away a few years back.’

‘The Grand Duchess? The one who went missing?’

It was hardly a new tale. The Grand Duke had been scattering posters across the land for years in search of his missing wife—everyone knew of it.

‘Someone happened to bring one of those posters back from the city, so I had a look…’

The villager’s voice had dropped even lower.

‘And guess what. That Grand Duchess looks exactly like Ophelia!’

‘Huh? What are you talking about? Ophelia looked like the Grand Duchess?’

‘You thought so too, didn’t you? I nearly dropped it when I saw it. Can’t believe I never noticed before!’

‘So, what—you’re saying Ophelia is the Grand Duchess?’

‘Oh, no, not at all! I just mean she looks a whole lot like her, that’s all.’

Jack clutched his rough hands to his head as the memory of that conversation came back to him. His mind knew Ophelia, the sweet and lovely Ophelia, couldn’t possibly be the missing Grand Duchess. But something in his gut told him that something very bad was about to happen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her small figure as she hurried home.

Ophelia herself felt no such worries as she approached her humble dwelling. The fact that her visitors were armed didn’t trouble her in the least.

She had never done anything bad enough to earn someone’s hatred. So why should she fear? Her only feeling was curiosity.

At her front door, however, she stopped. The door had been ripped off its hinges. Only then did Jack’s earlier worries make sudden sense.

‘Why break down a door that isn’t even locked?’

Her guests clearly had no manners. She pursed her lips, setting the crooked door back upright. But the damage didn’t end there.

The small cabinet by the door was overturned, the little trinkets she’d lovingly collected smashed across the floor. Other signs of a rough intrusion scarred her little home.

Ophelia’s lips tightened as she set a fallen ornament back in place. Whoever these people were, they were going to pay for the repairs, she resolved firmly. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped inside.

At the table in the small kitchen sat a broad-shouldered man. He ran a fingertip across the surface with a faint frown. The armed men Jack mentioned were nowhere to be seen.

“Who are you?”

Her clear voice rang out. The man lifted his head, his face expressionless. Pale gray eyes fixed on Ophelia, studying her features intently. Pride flickered across his gaze.

‘A noble…?’

A strange tension prickled her senses. She wanted to run. But this was her precious home. She couldn’t possibly abandon it. Digging her heels into the floor, she forced herself to stand tall.

“Ophelia.”

The low voice startled her, shoulders jerking up. The man rose at leisure, and his towering frame seemed to fill the tiny cottage.

“…Ophelia.”

He spoke her name again, as if savoring it. Alarmed, she stepped back, but he closed the distance in great strides, not tolerating even that space.

“I never thought you’d be here.”

The coldness of his gray eyes revealed no emotion, yet something unreadable stirred beneath.

“Who are you? Why are you here…”

His strange expression rattled her, but she straightened her back and asked firmly. Fear screamed at her to flee, but stubbornness rooted her feet.

“Are you pretending not to know me? Or have you truly forgotten my face in these years?”

“What are you talking about…!”

“Madam. Enough games. It’s time to come home.”

Madam? Madam…?

The man extended his hand as though to escort her. That large hand looked more threatening than polite. She dared not resist further. Her eyes darted around the room, and in the next instant, she spun and bolted.

But she hadn’t even reached the doorway when armed men, appearing from nowhere, seized her.

‘I have to scream…!’

She opened her mouth, hoping Jack might hear and come running. But a man clamped a hand over her lips.

“Forgive us, Grand Duchess.”

That was the last thing she heard before her world went dark.

When Ophelia woke again, she was in an unfamiliar place.

The first thing she saw was an absurdly ornate ceiling. The golden glow of the canopy and the bedposts shone so brightly she wondered if it was real gold. The drapes above rippled gently in the breeze.

Her body sank deep into a mattress far too soft, wrapped in bedding that smelled of sun and fresh laundry.

‘Gasp!’

For a moment, she thought it might be a dream. But as memories of her capture resurfaced, she shot upright, green eyes darting around the room.

“I… I was kidnapped?”

Even her ragged old dress was gone, replaced by a nightgown of soft, fine cloth.

The window was open just a bit, moonlight streaming in. She rushed over and looked down, then her legs went weak.

It was the fourth floor. Jumping would be suicide.

Her lips pressed tight. She turned back, intent on forcing her way out the door. But her steps faltered, and she froze.

The man from before was sitting on the sofa, watching her.

Ophelia swallowed her scream, checking to see if her heart was still in place.

“You could have at least made some noise,” she whispered reproachfully.

He rose and came toward her.

“Were you planning to throw yourself from the window?”

“From this height, I’d die.”

Though she was the one abducted, his composure made her feel small. She lowered her gaze, but forced her voice out as he studied her with that relentless stare, pinning her in place.

“Do you… know me?”

“How could I not?”

The closer he came, the heavier his presence grew. She backed away step by step until her back hit the window.

“How could I not recognize my own wife, Madam?”

His words were gentle, but his eyes were cold.

“S-sorry, but… I am Ophelia, yes, but I’ve never been married… I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else…”

Her cautious protest made him frown as he closed the distance.

“You think I’m too much of a fool to not know my own wife’s face?”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“Even if we were only husband and wife in name, we still shared a bed.”

His large hand traced down the back of her neck. Heat and chill seared her skin, leaving goosebumps in their trace.

Her eyes widened. His face was so close she could hardly breathe. Dazed, she found herself staring at his striking features.

Could it be that what he said was true…?

‘Have I ever… shared a bed with a man like this?’

Impossible!

Snapping out of it, she twisted in his grasp.

“I’m not her! Truly I’m not! You’ve mistaken me! Whoever you’re looking for, it isn’t me!”

She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let some kidnapper steal her innocence. Her fierce resistance created just enough distance, and she seized the chance to kick him hard.

“……!”

The towering man staggered, collapsing slowly.

Ophelia shoved him off and bolted. She tore open the massive door, ignoring the groan behind her, and dashed out.

She could escape!

Hope soared in her chest, not until a familiar force dragged her back once again.

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