TMSB Ch#12

“Psyche, you are a child loved by the gods.”

As Psyche slowly drifted down a long, seemingly endless corridor, a memory of her mother flashed through her mind, making her stop in her tracks.

“You were named after a beautiful heroine from a myth.”

The faint hope of pushing away thoughts related to the Grand Duke faded like a weak flame.

The moment she had desperately hoped would never come charged toward her with the force of something ready to choke her.

“Lady Psyche.”

Just because her name was Psyche didn’t mean she had to live out a tale from mythology.

Recalling the myth of the mortal woman who married a beautiful god, Psyche straightened her back with a nervous, almost foolish thought.

“You must never see His Grace’s face.”

That was how the myth went too.

The god of love, often called the ‘God of Love’, received a command one day from his mother, the ‘Goddess of Beauty’.

The command was to make a mortal woman named Psyche—praised as more beautiful than the goddess herself—fall in love with a hideous man.

But upon seeing Psyche’s beauty, the god himself fell in love with her and eventually took her as his wife.

Because he couldn’t reveal that he was a god, he would visit Psyche only at night, hiding his identity.

“Please remember. His Grace will only visit you after the sun has set.”

The head maid who had been leading the way down the long hallway came to a sudden stop.

She slowly turned back to look at Psyche, who remained silent.

The lantern in the maid’s hand flickered unsteadily in front of Psyche’s eyes.

“Until the wedding is held, you must not see his face, and you must not try to discover it either.”

Instead of replying, Psyche lowered her gaze and looked at herself reflected in the lantern light.

Draped in a pure white nightgown, walking to meet the night on her first day at the Grand Duke’s castle—she looked like a sacrificial offering walking into a monster’s jaws.

“I understand. But… I am a child baptized in the name of the gods. As such, I believe it is only right that I maintain my purity until the wedding.”

The maid said nothing, silently listening to Psyche’s soft voice.

It meant it was not something she dared answer.

Which in turn meant—what the Grand Duke wanted from her was the night.

They soon arrived before a large door. Psyche was slowly consumed by the creaking of its hinges.

“…This morning, His Grace sent the dowry to the House of Viscount Clement. He has said that if all goes well, he will continue sending the agreed-upon amount each month.”

Psyche knew better than anyone how dark and cruel the world could be.

Pure, love-at-first-sight feelings didn’t exist—and everything came at a price. Just as she had traded herself for money.

Stepping into a reality she had reminded herself of once again, Psyche entered the pitch-black night.

Thud.

The door closed behind her, and Psyche was plunged into total darkness.

As the darkness enveloped her, she reached out to touch the wall.

One would think she should have gotten used to the dark by now, but the suffocating blackness threatened to swallow her whole.

Is the Grand Duke somewhere in here?

A chilling thought crept into her mind.

Psyche glanced around, though there was nothing to see. Only pitch-black darkness.

Her eyes burned. Had she ever feared the dark before?

Darkness was necessary to make the light shine brighter. Psyche had never feared the dark.

But this darkness—with no end in sight—scared her.

It felt like she was trapped in a monster’s mouth, left to slowly rot.

Father, Mother… please grant me the strength to make it through this darkness.

A prayer that could never reach her late parents.

Now, the only one who might hear her plea was the Grand Duke, whose presence she couldn’t even confirm.

Still, she kept praying. Again and again. The ritual calmed her breath—only then did she stop.

“…Your Grace.”

Her voice trembled, the fear evident in every syllable.

There was no answer. No hand reaching out from the darkness. Only the silence of the bedroom.

Perhaps the Grand Duke wasn’t here at all.

Perhaps this darkness was a trick, carefully crafted to deceive her from the beginning.

Psyche slowly moved through the darkness, feeling her way along the walls.

She sat down in the furthest corner, as far from the presumed bed as she could manage, collapsing weakly.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Only the ticking of the clock echoed through the silence.

—

“Didn’t you sign the engagement contract?”

“Lady Psyche, this is His Grace’s order.”

Recalling the head maid’s voice, Psyche looked around the dark room.

Her eyes had finally adjusted enough to faintly make out the shapes around her.

“…He’s not here.”

The Grand Duke was nowhere to be found in this enormous bedroom.

She might not be able to make out his appearance, but surely she would have sensed someone’s presence.

But there was nothing—no trace of warmth a living body would give off. Only cold, stifling stillness.

Psyche stared at the bedroom door, then pulled her knees up and buried her face in them.

She noticed the floor was bare, without even a rug—far too cold and stark for the first night of an engagement.

Though her vision adjusted to the darkness, her heart never did.

—

From that night on, sleepless nights came in waves.

Every evening, Psyche held her breath under a blanket of darkness.

With her sight shut off, her hearing became sharper. She passed the nights listening to the faintest noises from beyond the door.

Living with fear that the Grand Duke might appear—and curiosity about what kind of person he truly was.

That morning was no different.

Time flew by, and the Grand Duchy of Hayer was preparing for a heavy snowfall. They called this time their “hibernation season.”

During this time, a grand festival was held in preparation for the snow.

Just before the blue dawn broke, Psyche finally fell asleep. She awoke to the sounds of morning.

“Lady Psyche, I’ve brought your wash water and the dress candidates for today.”

The maid politely bowed, holding a silver basin that steamed with warm water.

She was the same maid who had introduced the Grand Duke’s castle to Psyche on the first day.

Behind her, other maids filed in carrying bundles of dresses.

The Grand Duke’s attendants were mostly businesslike. Though they kept a certain distance from her, Psyche found it oddly comfortable.

As always, only the maid with the basin spoke.

“Today, I recommend a dress in blue tones. The weather is expected to be mild, so a cool-looking dress might suit you.”

“Yes, I’ll take that one.”

“Then I’ll place the chosen dress in your bedroom.”

At night, she slept in the bedroom shared by the ducal couple. Come morning, she returned to her own room.

Why hasn’t His Grace shown himself?

Not once in the past month had the Grand Duke come to see her.

Yet every morning, he sent her vibrant dresses and dazzling jewelry.

The maid delivering them would always say they were all Psyche’s possessions.

There were also the luxurious meals and attentive service—things Psyche never could’ve imagined in the past.

She didn’t fully understand the Grand Duke’s intentions, but as time passed, her fear of the faceless fiancé began to fade.

And in its place… curiosity grew.

Gazing at the basin of water, Psyche quietly opened her mouth.

“…I’ve heard the Grand Duchy holds a festival for the snowfall.”

“Yes, that’s right. Even the servants here

at the castle are busy preparing for it.”

“…Would it be possible for me to go watch the preparations for the festival?”