Chapter 11
I Don’t Get Jealous of Beasts (2)
The deeper I walked into the garden, the wider the black walls became. At first, only one side was blocked, but soon walls appeared on both sides, and despite it being midday, it was too dark to see anything around me.
If it weren’t for the lights installed in advance, I wouldn’t have been able to take a single step forward.
Rustle.
Even the sound of leaves swaying in the breeze felt eerie. According to Annie’s story, the first Marchioness had been trapped here for a whole year.
A year… If it were me, I wouldn’t have lasted a single day. Living in a place where not even a sliver of sunlight comes in? I would’ve gone insane long ago.
Rustle.
Again, the leaves swayed with the wind.
Rustle, rustle—
‘Wait… all the doors here are practically closed. Where’s all this wind coming from?’
Turning my head with that thought, I caught sight of something faintly glowing beyond the grass.
“Is that a firefly or something—”
“Huh?”
For a brief second, everything went still as my eyes met a pair of blue ones. And right at that moment, Annie’s voice echoed in my head:
‘Maybe that’s why… They say a ghost with blue eyes just like the Marchioness appears there!’
The word ‘ghost’ and the flickering blue eyes before me triggered an automatic reaction—I swung my arm instinctively.
“Kyaaa! Ghost!!”
“Ahhh!!”
With a loud smack, a sharp pain shot through my palm. I had definitely hit something hard… but I couldn’t clearly recall what.
And whatever it was, it let out a very human-like scream of pain… but again, my memory was fuzzy.
But wait… why would a ghost…?
“…It’s something you can hit—Oh no!”
“Ow…”
Seeing the glimmering gold threads of hair under the dim light, I quickly clamped my hand over my mouth.
“Your Highness?!”
“You have quite the swing.”
Ian, rubbing his reddened cheek, furrowed his brow.
So… the ‘ghost’ I smacked was Ian. Seriously, how did he even follow me in here and end up getting hit?
But still, since I was the one at fault right now, I cautiously reached out my hand. I had swung with all my strength, so I nervously glanced at his face, worried I might have seriously injured him. Ian caught my glance and gave a small, crooked smile.
“Are you worried?”
“Well… I was afraid I might’ve dislocated something. I didn’t slap you… I punched you.”
“…Yeah, you did.”
Still wincing, Ian rubbed his cheek.
“You really shouldn’t have followed me. That’s how you ended up getting hit.”
“Followed you?”
“You knew I was coming here, didn’t you? And followed me?”
I stood up, dusting off my dress, then cupped Ian’s cheeks in both hands and asked.
Assuming, like every typical tragic romance male lead, that he’d been stalking me.
But Ian’s face was full of question marks, as if he had no idea what I was talking about.
“Your Highness, do you even know where you are right now?”
“Well… I heard it was a garden while I was passing by, so I came in.”
He hesitated a bit before answering, then turned his head away to avoid further questions. His slightly trembling pupils were suspicious, so I grabbed his face again and turned it toward me.
“…Be honest.”
“…They said… this was that famous ‘garden’…”
Ian squeezed his eyes shut as he answered, referring to someone else’s house like it was a tourist attraction. Honestly, this was beyond being straightforward—he was just stupid.
You’d think a prince could at least lie better under pressure.
Letting go of his face, I took Ian’s hand and helped him up. Ian, who looked surprised at first, cautiously took my hand and stood.
“Thank you.”
“No big deal. I just felt sorry for you sitting there like that.”
I said it like it was nothing, but Ian’s brows furrowed like he was genuinely upset.
“By the way, is this place really that famous?”
“If you mean the ‘garden,’ then yes.”
Ian dusted the dirt off his pants.
“It’s the setting for the empire’s most romantic love story!”
“…Oh, for God’s sake.”
Seeing him clench his fist with excitement, I couldn’t help but curse out loud. Of course he’d view such a deranged story as a love story… typical tragic romance male lead.
Leaving Ian and his foolish grin behind, I quickened my steps.
“Please, don’t go around telling people our ancestors’ story is some grand romance.”
“Why not?”
“Because—let me put it this way—kidnapping someone, throwing a tantrum because they won’t marry you, and locking them up for a year… that’s what we usually call a criminal.”
I rattled off without pause, seeing Ian’s confused face as if he genuinely didn’t get why.
“Romanticist—”
“Criminal. Say it with me. Criminal.”
“But the first Marquess and Marchioness were known as the most loving couple in history.”
“Are your ears just for decoration? Can’t you hear what I’m saying? Romantic or not, open your eyes and look around.”
Ian bit his lip as he looked at the dark garden around us. The deeper we went, the fewer lights there were. At this point, I wasn’t sure if we were in an indoor garden or wandering through a midnight forest.
“The first Marchioness was locked up here. For a whole year.”
“I know that. But it was all… for her—”
Is he living in a dream world? How could someone this dumb be the Crown Prince?
“If he cared so much, he should’ve built her a beautiful glass garden instead. One where she could bask in the sunlight on good days, hear the sound of rain on bad days… A bright and lovely place. Or at the very least, a fortress so strong no threat could reach her.”
Thinking of someone else who had withered away in the dark, I pressed my fingers hard against my temples. The sensation rising from deep in my chest was definitely disgust.
“His actions were closer to a threat, saying ‘If you won’t choose me, you’ll spend forever locked in this darkness.’”
Recalling how someone once treated Odelia, I bit my lip and muttered. Ian let out a small gasp.
Looks like he finally understood. At least a little.
“It’s dark here… and silent. Without even this little bit of light—”
At that moment, the path ahead became pitch black, as though even the last bit of light had given up. Only a single torch burned far ahead.
“Just imagine… a lonely woman left alone in this darkness.”
“…”
“Can you really call this a beautiful love story? I can’t.”
Scoffing, I grabbed the torch and kept walking. This garden was so large, I’d been walking straight for several minutes now.
It felt like at least ten minutes had passed. Finally, a faint light appeared ahead—a tiny sliver pouring in from a small window high up on the ceiling.
And beneath that light sat a small house. Barely the size of a studio apartment.
“…So this is—”
“Some ‘garden.’ More like a prison.”
I tore up the weeds around the building and sneered.
The reason I’d come here was simple: to see for myself the person who might have suffered like Odelia… and find out how she survived it.
I hadn’t expected an actual prison cell, but clearly, the first Marquess hadn’t been sane either.
“Aren’t you going in?”
Opening the door, just a little taller than me, I asked Ian. He hesitated, then slowly stepped forward.
“Is it okay to just walk in—?”
“Who’s going to stop me? It’s my garden, inside my house.”
Ignoring Ian’s protests, I stepped inside. The rusty hinge squealed as if to announce no one had opened this door in ages.
And immediately, I could see the entire room at a glance.
A small bed barely big enough for two people. An empty bookshelf without a single book. A tiny desk, just like the one Odelia had.
A small window, showing nothing but the dark garden outside. A dining table in the center. A wardrobe.
That was it. Except for the door that likely led to a bathroom, there was literally nothing else.
Behind me, Ian let out a stunned gasp. Ignoring him, I began to inspect the room more thoroughly.
Bookshelf? Empty. Except for a layer of dust, it looked brand new. Dining table? Pretty much the same.
Desk? Small, with faded brown stains and scratch marks—probably for the same reasons as Odelia’s.
No matter how I looked, there wasn’t a single trace of the first Marchioness. Well, it had been centuries, after all.
Giving up, I sat on the edge of the bed. That’s when I noticed Ian standing by the window.
“Done looking?”
Ian snapped out of his daze and clenched his fists tightly.
“Not exactly… a fun place.”
“Not really a place for sightseeing, is it?”
I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but even I was surprised at how bitter and mocking my voice came out.
Staring blankly out the window, Ian shook his head.
“…If it were me… I would never have done this.”
“Excuse me?”
“I would never leave someone I love in a prison like this. I’d give her the most beautiful palace in the Imperial Palace… the highest, most noble place where she could be happy—”
“Wow. That’s some next-level bullshit.”
I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the nonsense coming out of his mouth.
In the original story, Odelia was kept in the Binka Palace—a place usually reserved for royal concubines. She ate breakfasts Ian personally brought her every morning, was dressed by tight-lipped maids, and slept under luxury bedding made from northern bear fur.
But was she happy?
Absolutely not.
Every place the male leads gave her was nothing but a prison.
Odelia ran from one prison to another… until her grave became her final cell.
Letting out a deep sigh, I looked at Ian’s stiffened face.
“Even if it’s the most beautiful and precious place in the world… if you’re forced to stay somewhere you don’t want to be, it’s still just a prison.”
“If you want… I’ll let you be free, as much as you want—”
“Your Highness… being by your side is already a prison for me.”
Ian fell silent at my words.
Freedom really is sweet and cruel at the same time. Even birds, free to fly wherever they wish, will eventually die if there’s no branch where they can rest their tired wings.
Balance—that’s what’s needed between shelter and freedom.
Being trapped in a beautiful room forever? No thanks. But wandering endlessly with nowhere to stay? I’ll pass on that too.
Odelia needed a home. A place she could always come back to. But this world was too cruel for her.
Always offering her gilded cages, calling them love.
Maybe the first Marchioness felt the same. Locked in this garden-like prison, known as ‘the Flower,’ living out her days until her death. Did she feel like this too?
Wouldn’t she have rather chosen to die of exhaustion than live like this?
The thought chilled me.
But Ian, oblivious to my thoughts, started speaking again, as if trying to defend himself.
“I don’t want to take away all your freedom. It’s just… the world is dangerous—”
“And who exactly decides what counts as dangerous?”
“That’s…”
Ian started to reply, but then shut his mouth.
“I’ll decide for myself what’s dangerous in my world. Don’t go making that decision for me, Your Highness.”
