~Chapter 12~
“Mm…”
When I opened my eyes, I saw an unfamiliar ceiling.
‘Where am I?’
This didn’t look like my room.
“You’re awake?”
Hearing that voice by my ear snapped me to my senses.
I shot up like a spring, and there was Damien, looking slightly surprised.
“You shouldn’t move so suddenly. It’s dangerous.”
He seemed even more cautious than usual.
As I wondered why, my memories before fainting finally returned.
‘Ah, from Damien’s perspective, I must be a patient now.’
A seriously ill patient who collapsed coughing up blood, no less.
“Ah, um, you must’ve been shocked. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“I was surprised, yes, but there’s no need for you to apologize.”
“But… didn’t you take care of me while I was unconscious?”
This wasn’t the place where I had collapsed. My clothes and face, which must’ve been stained with blood, were clean.
Next to the bed was a chair—one Damien had probably sat in the whole time.
On the cabinet lay a stack of documents he had been working on while staying by my side.
‘How long was I out?’
It had to have been more than a day. Was it two?
Damien, being the Grand Duke, surely had endless work to do.
If he spent time caring for me instead—
‘That must’ve been such a bother.’
I understood.
I didn’t resent him. My heart just felt a little heavy.
‘He really didn’t expect my illness to be this bad.’
Before marriage, I had told him I was sick.
But until he saw it with his own eyes, it probably hadn’t felt real.
Now he’d constantly have to worry about his wife’s illness. How troublesome that must be.
‘I had just started getting used to this house…’
Echoes of voices from the Aristea estate rang in my ears—my father, Cecilia, and the few servants gossiping about my illness.
‘She just wastes food every day. Useless and flawed—she’ll never help this family.’
Even though my body rested on a soft bed, my heart felt like it was sinking into a deep swamp.
Damien’s voice pulled me back.
“It’s only natural for one to stay by their spouse’s side when they collapse.”
“True, but still…”
“When I lost control, you worried about me and helped me, Ruby… I’m just doing the same for you.”
He remembered my request to call me Ruby.
It still felt a bit awkward, but I lifted my head to meet his gaze.
His violet eyes glowed faintly as he looked at me.
For some reason, they seemed filled with an odd energy.
“And watching you sleep… was quite a satisfying experience.”
Huh?
‘Satisfying?’
What was that supposed to mean?
Before I could ask, Damien spoke again.
“Ruby, have you worried a lot because of your illness?”
I blinked.
In my previous life, and this one, I was always sick.
But more than worry, I had mostly felt resignation toward an unchangeable fate. I struggled to find the words to answer.
“Um… rather than worry, I think I felt something else more often.”
“And what was that?”
“Helplessness.”
I never liked showing my illness. People only gossiped or mocked me for it.
I had never admitted how I truly felt about it to anyone.
“…I see.”
It was a simple reply.
But the twitch of his brow, the subtle movement of his facial muscles, and the veins popping on his right hand revealed Damien’s sincerity beyond words.
“Here, you will no longer feel helpless. And perhaps…”
He hesitated, then met my eyes.
“You won’t have to fear your illness worsening.”
His amethyst eyes, glowing softly like gems, looked straight at me.
For some reason, his honest gaze comforted me.
My tension melted away, and I managed a smile.
“Haha, just hearing you say that makes me thankful.”
After all, this was an incurable illness.
Yet no one had ever told me they would try to cure it.
That alone felt precious and comforting.
But then—
Scrape—
Startled, I looked up at the sound of a chair dragging closer. Damien had moved right next to the bed.
“This isn’t just empty words.”
“…Sorry?”
“As you know, this place is filled with countless mysterious, illogical occurrences—curses, ghosts, and supernatural beings.”
Whoosh.
A cold breeze blew through the room, snuffing out the candles.
The windows and door were closed tight—no wind could have entered.
“What’s impossible outside may be possible here. Even our physician is used to dealing with the supernatural.”
Ahhh—
With a faint echo, the candles lit up again.
In their flickering light, Damien’s violet eyes shone more seriously than ever.
“So that helplessness—you will be freed from it.”
Why was it?
My heart, which had always been beating, now thudded louder.
Warmth spread through my frozen body, and a ticklish feeling bloomed in my chest.
‘What’s impossible outside… might be possible here…’
If that was true… then maybe, someone like me—just a contract wife who belonged nowhere—could finally belong here.
After a short conversation with Damien and an examination by the physician, I returned to my room.
I had vomited blood all over the blanket before fainting, so I expected the room to be a mess, but the servants must have cleaned it while I was unconscious. Not a single drop of blood remained.
“The room was cleaned while you were unconscious. I told them not to move anything unless necessary.”
“Thank you.”
“And please try not to move too much today.”
Damien personally lifted the blanket and made space for me.
I nodded slightly in thanks and was about to lie down when I noticed the desk.
“Huh?”
The papers that had been scattered everywhere were neatly organized.
Seeing me freeze, Damien followed my gaze and sighed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look, but I saw some of your drawings.”
Thump.
My heart started pounding.
‘How much did he see?’
Among the papers I had flipped over were grotesque curse drawings that would make any ordinary person flee in terror.
Anyone seeing them would scold me, asking if I was trying to curse someone with such ominous drawings.
‘What should I do?’
No normal person would want a wife who drew such things.
Even if Damien was kind, I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t be disgusted.
‘Should I say someone else drew them?’
As I frantically searched for an excuse, Damien apologized again.
“I’m sorry if it upset you. I only glanced, but your skill was so impressive it caught my attention.”
Praise. Completely unexpected praise for my drawings.
“My… skill is impressive…?”
No one had ever said that before. Everyone always asked why I drew such things, telling me to throw them away because they were creepy.
‘Maybe he didn’t see the curse drawings yet?’
As confusion swirled inside me, Damien asked,
“What do you usually draw?”
I hadn’t expected that question, but the answer was obvious.
Because my drawings always had the same theme.
“I draw… things I like.”
I barely managed to spit it out. Damien nodded.
“Then… curses must be among the things you like.”
Silence.
I clenched my trembling hands. He had definitely seen everything.
“Did you see the curse drawings?”
“Yes.”
“Even the captions?”
“Yes.”
He had seen all my impressions and little notes about how adorable I found them.
I let out a hollow laugh.
“…Ruby?”
I slumped down onto the bed, a powerless smile on my lips.
“Creepy, right? Drawing such strange things…”
That was what my first fiancé had said when he saw them.
He had screamed and fled, and later forced me to promise never to draw them again.
When I refused, he tore them all to pieces.
“That’s why I had no confidence in this contract marriage.”
Once people learned what I liked, they always recoiled and pushed me away.
Damien would be the same.
Especially since he suffered so much because of curses.
“Still, since I hid it from you, if you want to divorce me now, I understand.”
Belonging here… what a joke.
I’m not welcome anywhere.
Even as I spoke calmly, it felt like my body was sinking into a deeper abyss.
“Just give me some time to pack my things—”
At that moment, long, pale fingers grabbed my hand firmly.
“No.”
Startled, I looked up to see Damien’s face staring straight at me.
But there was something strange in his eyes.
“Ruby, have you really been comfortable staying in this mansion so far?”
“Huh? Well… yes, actually…”
“Was it comfortable?”
I nodded cautiously.
“Yes…”
I liked it here, where no one pointed fingers at me.
I even secretly hoped I could keep living here.
“And if you like curses…”
A cold sensation spread across my fingers.
Damien’s hand, which had been resting lightly, now covered half of mine.
“Then seeing me possessed by curses didn’t disgust you either, did it?”
“Of course not…!”
His long, white fingers crept under my sleeve.
When he gripped my entire hand tightly, I looked up—and froze.
“Then I can’t let you go.”
His eyes were filled with a glimmer of satisfaction and possessiveness I had never seen before.
