Chapter 14
According to the article, the medicine about to be released on the market was developed at the Mage Tower.
Fourteen years ago, someone had discovered some abandoned herbs left behind during research. After continuous development and analysis, the cure had finally been completed—or so the story went.
“I just… got better on my own, though…?”
According to my parents, even the physician they had struggled to bring in didn’t know how to treat it. He had only given me syrup normally prescribed for influenza.
They said all they could do was follow his instructions—changing cold towels—and care for me while praying desperately.
Since I had no desire to dwell on a sickness I had already shaken off, I simply believed what they said.
“Unless… the herbs that were supposedly researched in secret—what if someone smuggled them out just for me? Otherwise, how did I survive?”
The thought was laughable. I knew it didn’t make sense.
It was better to assume the doctor at the time had misdiagnosed me, or that my parents had misunderstood.
Jane had approached me at some point and spoke up.
“Lady Daphne, what sort of article has you so deep in thought?”
“Oh, it’s about the ‘Sudrik’ disease. Have you heard of it before?”
“…I’ve heard of it.”
“I see. Well, it’s a fever with a high mortality rate. Fortunately, it isn’t very contagious. They say a cure was only developed this year.”
“Ah… that’s a relief.”
“But I had this illness when I was little—without any medicine at all. Thinking back now, it’s strange. I can’t help but feel like the doctor must have confused it with another disease.”
At that moment, Jane stiffened.
Her expression darkened unnaturally as she stared at the newspaper.
“…Then, Lady Laila doesn’t remember anything from before she fell ill? Not even the moment she collapsed?”
“No, nothing at all. I’ve never tried to remember either. I was so young, I don’t have any attachment to those lost memories. I don’t even remember the pain from being sick. I suppose that’s fortunate.”
“Yes… fortunate.”
Jane’s demeanor struck me as odd.
Her usual energy was gone; instead, she replied in a subdued tone, listening carefully to my story.
It was as if she were someone else entirely.
The coldness that leaked from her rigid tone left me uneasy.
“Did I bring up something too grim? Jane, you don’t look well.”
“No… I just… think I’m a little under the weather today.”
“What? Then don’t push yourself. Let’s stop here for today. I’ll pay you the same regardless.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll just tidy up the parlor a bit more before I go. I’ll be fine.”
She smiled again, then slipped out of the sewing room.
Ah! Maybe someone she knows suffered from this disease. Her expression looked like someone with personal knowledge of it.
It wasn’t the curious look of someone hearing about it for the first time.
Or maybe… it was just such a heavy subject she didn’t know how to respond.
It was, after all, a terrifying disease with a high death rate—not something to be discussed lightly with a smile.
I decided to think of it positively. Almost instinctively, I felt I shouldn’t dwell on it further.
The carriage carrying me toward the Leodid estate rattled along.
The sky visible through the window was dark, though it was only one in the afternoon.
After several bright, sunny days, the weather had turned sour.
As if I weren’t uncomfortable enough about this visit already.
I let out a sigh.
The gray, cloud-choked sky promised rain.
“If I could step into that garden again… maybe I’d sense something.”
The memory of easily passing through the barrier was still vivid.
Yet, the sinister intentions of the Leodid family remained a mystery. Why had they revealed the fig tree’s roots to me that day—something that might become their fatal weakness?
For now, I’ll just pretend to focus on the dressmaking.
I flipped through the booklet I had brought from the shop.
I had stayed up all night sketching several designs to review with Rachel.
Whether she would like them or not, I had to appear as the finest wedding dress designer.
“Young Lady, we’ve arrived.”
The coachman stepped down from his horse and opened the carriage door.
Taking his hand, I alighted.
The Leodid mansion loomed before me—
Why does it feel even gloomier, more chilling, more desolate than usual today?
It was the kind of place every negative word in my vocabulary could describe.
I was escorted to the drawing room by the butler, who, as always, spoke to me with utmost courtesy.
“Lady Rachel instructed us to treat you with the greatest care today, Lady Daphne.”
“I see. Please convey my thanks to Lady Rachel.”
“I too look forward to the beautiful dress you will craft for her.”
“…Yes, I will do my best.”
The butler’s gentle smile, so full of affection for Rachel, helped ease my nerves.
In the drawing room, I laid out my bags and booklets on the table.
Today’s agenda was to examine fabric samples, take measurements, and discuss designs.
Next visit, I’ll definitely need both my manager and Jane with me. I can’t carry dresses and mannequins alone.
After sipping half a cup of tea, Rachel finally appeared.
She greeted me politely, then sat across from me.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen a bride so indifferent to her own wedding dress.
I had noticed it before as well.
Rachel seemed oddly unconcerned about the dress she would wear on her wedding day.
Even Rena had looked a little excited when she had her dress made.
Rachel glanced around the parlor—where only her personal maid and I were present—as if uncomfortable even in her own space.
“Lady Rachel, is something troubling you?”
“No, nothing. Ah, we’re taking my measurements today, aren’t we? Let’s get started.”
Her maid removed her indoor gown, and I approached with my measuring tape.
She’s so thin. Shockingly so.
Of all the women I had measured recently, none were as frail as Rachel.
To become Crown Princess, a healthy, plump figure was generally encouraged.
I would need to design a voluminous gown to conceal her frame.
Masking my concern, I smiled and spoke.
“A winter wedding calls for heavy silk—it would suit you well. It could also bear ornate embellishments to give a grand impression.”
“Ah… yes. I do like elaborate dresses. I’m looking forward to it.”
While her maid dressed her again, I jotted down her measurements.
This won’t be easy.
The trend these days leaned toward simple, clean designs.
But on Rachel, a plain silk gown with floral accents would make her look far too fragile next to the imposing Crown Prince.
“Shall we talk about the dress design now?”
“Yes, let’s.”
Rachel moved from across the table to sit beside me.
I handed her the booklet I had brought.
She was to select a design she liked, after which I would show her the fabrics I had prepared and explain how the dress would be crafted.
“Oh, Miss Daphne. Your cup is empty, and the dessert plate is clean as well…”
Had I eaten too much while waiting? Embarrassed, I lowered my gaze. Rachel called to her maid.
“Didn’t I tell the kitchen staff to prepare plenty? Go fetch more.”
“Y-yes, my lady.”
The maid hesitated, then left the parlor to gather tea and desserts.
Rachel swiftly pointed to one of the designs in the booklet.
“I like this one.”
The design she chose resembled the Empress’s attire: a classical gown.
High lace collar, jeweled bodice, a dress brimming with splendor.
Difficult for most to pull off, but perfect for disguising her frail figure.
I nodded.
“Very well. Then let me show you some lace fabrics that would complement—”
“…Sister.”
It had been a long time since I’d heard that word.
Startled, I turned to look at Rachel.
“We’re alone right now. I just… wanted to call you that again.”
“…You resemble Lord Rowan.”
“Do I? Hm. There’s something I want to ask.”
Once again, she glanced nervously around the room, as if afraid someone might be eavesdropping.
“Sister, we have a fig tree in our garden. Have you seen it?”
“Yes. Lord Rowan showed it to me.”
“…Did he tell you why it was planted?”
Rachel’s yellow eyes gleamed as she looked at me, the corner of her lips lifting faintly.
“I think that tree resembles our family. Just my own little thought.”
Her tone carried a bitter edge of self-mockery.
“Someday, with my brother… the three of us together…”
Knock, knock.
Rachel’s maid had returned, knocking on the door.
Rachel straightened her posture immediately.
“Come in. Lady Daphne, would you show us the lace fabrics?”
She bent over the fabrics, feigning concentration.
But compared to when she had casually addressed me as “sister,” she now seemed tense and uneasy.
And I realized it—
…There was no joy in this wedding preparation for her.
