TMSB Ch#03

“Head maid, didn’t I clearly tell you to send them back?”

“…My apologies. I was only thinking of Lady Psyche.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Send them back immediately.”

Baron Clement closed his eyes and began rubbing the back of his neck. It was his habit to calm the fury rising to the top of his head.

Psyche felt dazed as she saw her father, who had reportedly skipped meals and fallen asleep from exhaustion.

“Was all this the head maid’s doing? I’ve said many times I have no intention of marrying Psyche off!”

His slowly simmering anger grew larger and larger.

Baron Clement unleashed his fury, forgetting that a guest was present.

“Father.”

A calm voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

As Baron Clement’s gaze shifted to her, Psyche took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

“I’m all right.”

A faint sigh was hidden at the end of her quiet voice. Worried it might show, she put on an even brighter smile.

“This gentleman is here on behalf of the Grand Duke. We must not be negligent in our hospitality, Father.”

She meant: don’t make any more of a scene.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Baron Clement understood the hidden message and closed his mouth.

Though his deeply furrowed brow showed no signs of relaxing.

Psyche quietly swallowed her sigh. The entire situation felt like part of a dreadful farce.

“…Thank you for making the journey. But as you’ve seen, I am not suited to be the Grand Duchess.”

The Grand Duchy of Hayer was once part of the Sigur Empire but was now an independent nation. The Grand Duke had people to lead.

Psyche wasn’t fit for such a role.

Her noble title was in name only, her family was in poor circumstances, and she had not lived the kind of life other noble ladies had.

The position of Grand Duchess was far beyond her reach.

“I apologize for the offense. On behalf of the House of Clement, I offer you my sincerest apologies.”

Psyche looked at the Grand Duke’s envoy and slowly bowed her head.

His icy blue eyes, cold like winter, followed her movement with a soft, subtle stir.

She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid reading into what his gaze might mean.

Mockery. Contempt.

If she were to name the emotions, those would be the ones reflected in his eyes.

But Psyche thought it was just as well. This commotion would likely reach the Grand Duke’s ears.

It would be enough to kill his curiosity. He would see her as a woman utterly unfit to be his bride.

“I apologize to our guest. My father is unwell, so I’ll excuse myself now.”

She bowed slowly and rose to her feet.

The envoy gave no reply—just a faint, sneering curve at the corner of his lips.

To Psyche, that was answer enough.

“Father, let me help you to your room.”

As she let go of the dress she had unknowingly clenched, she noticed it was terribly wrinkled.

Brushing off her skirt with her palms, she stood slowly.

In the still silence, only the sound of her steady footsteps echoed.

She smiled widely, a smile that didn’t suit the situation—but precisely because it didn’t, she smiled even more.

To keep from crying, she had to smile.

To not let it show, she had to smile. And to be a good daughter, she had to smile.

Because Psyche Clement had to be a dignified daughter.

As she turned her back on the Grand Duke’s envoy to help her father, a chilly voice cut through the air.

“The Grand Duchy has excellent medicinal herbs, distributed widely and at a lower price than in the Sigur Empire.”

“…”

“Lady, I hope to hear good news. My lord surely hopes for the same.”

“…Yes. Very well.”

Psyche turned to him and gave a slight bow.

There would be no good news. She had no intention of being entangled with that man any further.

When their eyes briefly met—his as deep as the sea—she quickly turned away.

Her long hair swayed like a dancing veil, blocking her view in black.

—

—

“Father, are you all right?”

Psyche stood from the small chair beside the bed and asked gently.

“What’s there not to be all right about?”

His answer was curt. Clearly, the earlier talk of marriage had angered him.

She looked at her father, who had turned away from her and kept sighing.

Once a golden crown shining in the sunlight, his hair had dulled, losing its radiance.

Strands of white scattered throughout told the tale of the years he had endured.

When had he grown so frail? She hadn’t even noticed how weak he had become. Life was hard enough just to get by each day—she hadn’t had the luxury to pay attention to others.

If I had noticed earlier, maybe I wouldn’t feel so regretful about the Grand Duke’s proposal.

Psyche smiled faintly. Her father was still with her. They still had time left together.

“Father.”

She pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and walked over to the window.

At her voice, Baron Clement’s body flinched. She wiped the smile from her lips as she shut the window.

“Mother told me everything. You’re unwell, aren’t you? Was that why you went to the capital last time?”

Baron Clement had visited Viscaya, the capital of the Sigur Empire, just five days ago.

He had said he would stay for two weeks to handle some affairs. She had found it strange.

But she never imagined it was to hide something like this.

Psyche leaned on the window frame, chewing on her disappointment.

The sky outside was dark, as if dusk had already fallen. It looked like it might rain.

“You should have told me. And here I was…”

“There was no need to worry you, Psyche.”

“How can it not concern me? Your health is my concern—as your daughter and as the heir to the House of Clement.”

Her firm voice reached him through his hunched back, and she made a distressed face—one she could only make since he wasn’t looking.

“You are no longer the heir to the House of Clement. I will not pass the family on to you.”

“…Father.”

Psyche froze, as though she had forgotten how to breathe.

It was a thunderbolt from a clear sky.

She couldn’t breathe, yet her heart pounded so hard she felt her blood rush to her face.

“What… what are you talking about?”

She couldn’t even hide the tremor in her voice.

She didn’t know what expression she wore, how she was breathing, or what her voice sounded like.

She had always believed that one day she would inherit the title of Baron Clement.

That was her vision of the future—to succeed her father and become the rightful head of the family.

“Give up the inheritance. And find your own life now, Psyche.”

“No, Father.”

“…”

“From the moment I learned to read and write, I believed I would lead this family. And you always told me the same—that I was your only heir, and that I must always stand proud.”

Psyche’s voice trembled with despair, but she enunciated each word clearly.

That was her natural speaking style, but now more than ever, she needed her words to be understood despite the tears threatening to fall.

The shock rushed in so quickly her limbs went numb.

She clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to swallow the dryness in her throat.

“It’s not because you’re lacking.”

“….”

“It’s because I am. I, your father, am the one who’s lacking, Psyche.”

Baron Clement, who had only shown his back, slowly rose to sit upright.

He hesitated, lips parting and closing before finally speaking.

“When I went to the capital, the doctor told me… it’s an incurable disease.”