CHAPTER 08
“My Lady!”
Even as Meril raised her voice, Linaria didn’t flinch or avert her gaze.
She stared back proudly, with determination.
Linaria feared Meril.
She feared her father, too.
That fear came from the deep-rooted belief that, if she were a bad child, the people she cherished might abandon her.
Saying “No” or talking back was something only bad children did.
To be a good child, she always shrank back and followed others’ wishes.
But I can’t protect what’s truly important that way.
Meril was someone who disguised manipulation as love.
So Linaria had to muster the courage to stand up to her.
“Yes. Even a noble lady may stray from the right path,” Meril said. “And as a guardian, it’s my job to correct that.”
As Linaria resisted for the first time, Meril tried to mask her anxiety with a look of pity.
“And when the master errs, it’s only right that her servant take responsibility.”
Meril stepped in front of Anna.
“Watch carefully, my lady. This happened because of you.”
She suddenly raised her hand—to strike Anna.
Reading her intent, Linaria moved to shield Anna.
She reached out to grab Meril’s wrist to stop her.
At that moment—
Smack.
Someone grabbed Meril’s hand from behind.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Du-Duke…”
Dante had returned from the imperial palace.
He looked at Meril with an icy expression.
“When you say you care for Liri as your own daughter, this isn’t what you mean, is it, madam?”
“That’s not—”
“Yes or no. Those are the only answers I’ll accept right now.”
Dante coldly cut off Meril’s excuse before she could even start.
“I’ll call the physician. You, madam, will wait in my office.”
Meril left without saying another word, and Anna, whose calves were in terrible shape, received medical attention.
Cough, cough.
“Father, are you all right?”
As things calmed down, Dante suddenly started coughing.
His face paled, and blood tinged his breath.
“I’ve… run out of herbs.”
He clutched his pipe with a trembling hand, but no smoke came out.
“Let’s go to your room. I’ll help you walk.”
That once-small child was now big enough to support him.
Dante, feeling the passage of time keenly, exhaled with effort.
In the bedroom, Linaria helped her father onto the bed and searched the drawers.
She found the herbs and handed them over.
Dante lit them with practiced ease, and his breathing gradually steadied.
“Lie down, Father.”
“Liri.”
Once Dante’s breathing had settled, he spoke slowly.
“I heard… enough of what happened. What Madam Meril said to you.”
Linaria’s face darkened slightly.
If she was right, then her father had only now realized how Meril had manipulated her—and how helplessly she had endured it.
Her thoughts tangled, but Dante spoke again.
“That must’ve been…”
Been what?
Linaria braced for the words that might follow.
Maybe he’d call her foolish—for believing those lies so blindly.
“Terrifying, wasn’t it?”
But the word that came out was nothing like she expected.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, Father, you don’t have anything to be sorry for—”
She shook her head quickly in denial.
Drip. Drip.
Tears slid down Linaria’s cheeks.
“Terrifying, wasn’t it?”
That single line—spoken as if he knew the loneliness she had endured—struck her heart.
She hadn’t expected it to bring tears.
Trying to ignore the ones still welling up, Linaria quickly said:
“I’m just glad you’re alive. That’s all I need. Really.”
Dante reached out and gently wiped her tears.
His tender, weakened touch only made her cry harder.
“I realized something again—when I touch you, you don’t break or fall apart.”
He muttered through dry lips.
“When you were just born… I was afraid.”
“……”
“You’ve grown up so much, without me seeing it. It hurts how much I missed.”
His hand, brushing her cheek, looked like it might fade away at any moment.
Though Dante was the one who was sick, Linaria was the one being comforted.
That made her feel guilty.
“Please rest.”
That was why—why she left the room after lighting the herbs, almost as if fleeing.
Her eyes were still red with tears not yet dried.
But unlike the tearful look she had before, her gaze was now sharp as she turned her back on her father’s bedroom.
She knew now, more than ever, that she couldn’t afford to lose this moment where her father was alive.
To protect those she loved…
Kaath.
She needed him desperately.
He was her wild card—the one who could change the future.
***
“My name is Kaath. Kaath. Kaath.”
He had no last name.
Or maybe he did—he just didn’t remember it.
Kaath.
The only thing he could remember for sure.
And that he was in hell.
He struggled through the paralyzing pain that felt like his brain was melting—and somehow escaped.
That’s when he met her.
“Want me to help you?”
Gasping for air, a strange voice reached him.
Looking up, he saw a pale woman.
Skin untouched by sunlight.
Shimmering silver hair.
Eyes as red as blood—striking against the rest of her white appearance.
She looked so unreal, it was hard to believe she was human like him.
“Do you really think you can get out of here on your own?”
Think? He hadn’t thought anything like that.
He was just in pain—and he had tried to escape. Like an animal recoiling from fire. Instinctively.
“Look at you. You can’t even walk.”
She knelt to his eye level and examined him carefully.
It seemed like she was checking his wounds.
“If I’d known, I would’ve brought medicine,” she muttered.
When he looked at her, confused, she tore the hem of her dress without hesitation.
The sound startled him—until he realized it wasn’t to hurt him.
“I’m going to touch you. I warned you, so don’t be too surprised.”
She treated him like a wild animal.
He thought she might choke him with the cloth.
But instead, she wrapped his ankle.
She had realigned the dislocated bone.
Her touch felt strangely familiar.
Not just the touch—the entire situation.
“This is only a temporary fix, as you know.”
His head throbbed with pain.
As he furrowed his brow, her voice came clearly.
“I promise. Next time we meet, I’ll get you out of here.”
“…Why?”
“Hmm…”
Unlike how quickly she treated him, she didn’t answer right away.
“No matter what I say, you wouldn’t believe it anyway… Let’s just say I’m interested.”
He hated the word “interest.”
Interest in him always led to violence.
“Ten thousand runes. Just give me that, and I’ll sell you this child.”
From the moment his mother sold him for a mere ten thousand runes, his life became one long punishment.
He later learned he was the illegitimate son of the Emperor—the highest power in the empire.
But because his mother’s blood was “lowly,” he had to suffer.
Even feeling that it was unfair became a luxury he couldn’t afford.
There was only one thing he could do—run.
Like a frog leaping from boiling water.
“Linaria Obel.”
That name… didn’t feel unfamiliar.
“That’s my name.”
He couldn’t recall where or how he had heard it.
Suddenly, the place grew noisy.
It seemed the search had reached this area.
“Don’t forget this time.”
As she walked away, Kaath instinctively reached toward her.
Her back was wide open.
He could have killed her in an instant.
He nearly did, by reflex—but instead, clenched his fist.
There was nothing to catch.
“Filthy little worm!”
He was soon caught—he no longer had the strength to resist.
Maximilian, furious, kicked him.
“Thinking of running away again? Don’t make me laugh. You think a thing like you could survive out there?”
Maximilian’s rage was even more vicious than usual.
Worm. Worm. Worm.
In this hell, he was nothing more than a bug.
“My name is Kaath. Kaath. Kaath.”
Not “worm.”
He desperately tried not to forget.
But a life of pure pain had made his memories a chaotic mess, like paint splattered wildly across a canvas.
“Kaath. Kaath…”
Linaria.
Suddenly, he remembered her—those strong, unwavering eyes.
And the faint, sweet scent carried on the wind.
For some reason…
He didn’t want to forget that memory.
Just like he didn’t want to forget his name.
