TMSB Ch#05

“I will repay this kindness. It’s not a small sum, so I’ll make sure it’s fully compensated.”

As the man followed her outside, Psyche hastily opened her mouth, glancing nervously at the closed door behind her.

She pulled out the emergency savings she had slowly accumulated over a long time.

It was money she had kept hidden to use only when she could no longer endure everything.

“Please accept this. It’s a token of my gratitude.”

The man didn’t respond, even as he looked at the envelope Psyche held out. He merely gazed at her with endlessly deep eyes.

Eyes as clear and transparent as ice. Jet-black hair contrasted starkly with his snow-white skin, reminiscent of a snowy field.

Even his straight nose gave off an elegant impression.

His features were sharp, but instead of harshness, they made him appear mysteriously cold.

Looking at him, Psyche recalled a memory from long ago, when she had followed her father to Vizcaya.

There, she had once seen a portrait of an extraordinarily beautiful woman. The painting was dazzlingly beautiful—so much so that it felt blinding—and even awe-inspiring.

Later, she learned it was a portrait of the Empress, who was once called the “Rose of the Cigar Empire.”

To Psyche, it was the first embodiment of “beauty” she had ever encountered since birth.

The man before her was just like that portrait—a beautiful figure of stunning grace.

“…Thank you for your help.”

Lost in various thoughts, Psyche belatedly realized the man was also watching her.

A suppressed voice slowly escaped between his lips, a few beats late.

As Psyche’s voice dissolved into the silence, the man slowly closed and then opened his eyes.

The deep blue gaze that had momentarily entranced her vanished briefly. That’s when she pushed away her pointless, wandering thoughts.

She hadn’t intended to receive his help. It was just a coincidence—nothing more than useless distractions.

This strange connection would surely end today.

“I plan to depart right before the Feast of St. Peter. That would be a month and a half from now.”

“…”

“I hope that by then, Lady Clement’s heart will have changed.”

His blue eyes looked directly into hers. Psyche also looked into the messenger’s eyes and gave a slight nod in greeting.

When she straightened back up, his gaze had already shifted away.

After exchanging farewells with Lady Clement, the man moved away from Psyche.

He didn’t take it after all.

As he turned, the tail of his cloak fluttered, and the glasses tucked into his inner pocket caught her eye.

Glasses?

In that moment, a rumor related to the Grand Duke flashed through her mind.

An item said to see through a person’s true heart.

Psyche clenched the envelope still in her hand tightly.

…No, that can’t be. He’s just a messenger sent to deliver the Grand Duke’s intentions. What am I thinking?

She stood dazedly, staring at the spot where the man had disappeared. He hadn’t taken the envelope after all.

A sudden chill, like the cold winter wind that resembled the man, swept through her.

—

—

Tap, tap.

Thick raindrops knocked against the window glass.

Without warning, the rain poured so hard it drowned out all the sounds of the world.

After returning to her room following the brief chaos, Psyche let out a deep sigh, her chest heaving, and rubbed her temples.

> “This illness is hard to cure. Even if there is a way to treat it, it will require a large sum. And if treatment doesn’t begin soon, there may be no way to save him.”

When the doctor had said those words, Psyche had felt her heart drop like a stone.

What she later heard from Lady Clement was even crueler.

> “…Psyche, we may need more money than the 500 francs I mentioned.”

Even 500 francs was not a small amount. If frugally used, it could last through three seasons.

Anything beyond that, Psyche simply couldn’t afford.

They might even have to sell the house—this home filled with memories of the Clement family—and move somewhere smaller.

But for Psyche, that was unacceptable.

She, more than anyone, understood the importance of adapting to time and circumstance and had always chosen reason over emotion.

But leaving the Clement estate—that, she could not accept.

The family’s lands had long since passed into other hands.

If they were to lose this house as well, which had witnessed the lineage of the Clement family, then her dream of reviving their name would vanish like a mirage.

“…Ha.”

Psyche let out a bitter laugh.

The more she thought, the more her head throbbed. She couldn’t see any way out of this hardship.

The rain tapping against the window had grown heavier.

She quickly stood up and rushed out the door. This wasn’t a time to be admiring the rain.

Soon, Psyche stood still under the violent downpour, speechless with dismay.

> “Bring buckets! Anything that can hold rainwater!”

Shouts rang out. Among them, she heard the voice of Lord Clement.

The sharp raindrops scratched at her cheeks, snapping her back to reality.

Suddenly, her ill father’s voice rang in her ears like a thunderclap.

> “Psyche! Get inside the house! Why are you out in this rain?”

Lord Clement, spotting his daughter standing dazed in the rain, shouted. Psyche only moved her lips, unable to speak.

Lord Clement was wracked with phlegm-filled coughs, his drenched figure looking more pitiful than ever.

> “Why are you outside, Father? You’re not well…”

So many words swirled in her mouth, but the only one that came out was a sorrowful concern.

> “It is the head of the house’s duty to protect it, Psyche. Now go in, or you’ll catch a fever.”

She had always hated rainy days.

Rainy days never failed to remind her of her tragic circumstances.

Psyche looked back and forth between the flooded estate and her father, whose face had gone pale.

If the rain continued all night, the house—which sat on low land—might flood.

With no money to hire workers, the rainwater would remain and soak into the wood.

That was why her father was out in the storm.

Perhaps if they had a roof that could shield them from the storm, her thoughts on rain would be different.

> “I’ll help you, Father.”

But that wasn’t reality. Just being alive and breathing meant poverty poured in like this storm, every single day.

> “The rain is cold. Let’s finish quickly and find shelter together.”

Psyche silently picked up a bucket.

As her father’s coughing echoed nearby, she thought she might one day close her eyes forever—strangled by poverty.

She had to endure this wretched world a little longer.

She had to survive.

Why was it all so unbearably difficult?

A single drop of rain slipped down her cheek, tracing her jawline.

—

—

> “Mother, please tell me how much Father’s treatment will cost. I’ll try to raise it.”

After the chaos settled down, Psyche spread the hand-embroidered handkerchiefs she’d made across the table.

They were all remnants of her efforts to keep the household afloat.

Lady Clement looked at her daughter’s calloused hands, then at the scattered handkerchiefs, and closed her eyes tightly.

> “No, Psyche. You don’t have to do that. In fact, just after the rain stopped, a letter came from Dr. Pascal. He said your father’s illness is rare and that he wouldn’t charge anything if he could study the treatment process. Isn’t that fortunate?”

“…”

In truth, Psyche had planned to suggest selling the house to her mother today.

Even then, it might not have covered the treatment costs.

Her father’s illness wasn’t a one-time expense. It was an incurable disease.

She knew it would be like pouring water into a bottomless jar, but she had no other options.

> “Still, it’s such a relief to have the doctor’s help.”

> “…Yes. It is fortunate.”

Yet her mother was telling her not to give up.

That someone had shown them kindness—and that they should be thankful.

But was it truly fortunate?

Psyche had doubts.

Her father, thinking his duty fulfilled after the chaos, had collapsed back into bed.

> “They said a contract would be drafted. Since your father is bedridden, they’ll begin treatment as soon as we send the family seal…”

> “Mother. Did you say the family seal?”

Family seal.

As soon as that phrase reached her ears, nausea surged in her throat.

It couldn’t be. But deep down, something felt terribly wrong.

> “Did you read the contract?”

> “No, you know I’m not good with such things. They said they’d take care of it, so I agreed.”

> “…Mother.”

Psyche called to Lady Clement, her face now pale—though it was more like a whisper to herself.

> “Good heavens, Psyche. Your face…”

> “You haven’t sent the seal yet, right? Did you at least receive the contract?”

> “The head maid probably has it somewhere… But the seal was just sent off. And—my goodness, are you alright?”

The family seal should never be given away. And they hadn’t even read the contract?

Psyche’s mouth went dry.

Lady Clement, for all her noble pride, was still like a sheltered girl who’d never stepped out of her greenhouse.

> “Head maid. Bring me the contract. Now.”

Psyche commanded calmly. The head maid bowed and left the room.

Psyche’s gaze darkened as she followed the maid’s retreating figure.

She must’ve seen everything. Perhaps even encouraged it.

And yet she hadn’t stopped her mother. That meant something had gone exactly according to the head maid’s plan.

Psyche wanted to throw her out immediately. But she was the only one her mother relied on.

So her rage ended with biting the inside of her cheek.

Soon, the head maid returned. And the paper she laid before Psyche squeezed the breath from her lungs again.

> “If no progress is made within a set period, the support will be withdrawn. Furthermore, Viscount Clement must repay ten times the amount spent on treatment to the sponsor, Count Erisichthon.”