Chapter 1

In the 321st year of the Svergen Empire, during the seventh year of the reign of Bolstak II, in the spring, a bright drop of blood fell onto the leaves of the newly sprouted dark opal basil seedling.

"Ah!"

Before Frida, who was startled, could even touch her nose, the people around her gathered and began to make a commotion.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

"Oh, what do we do? You're bleeding, you're bleeding."

Ricardo Molli, who had been planting the basil seedling, threw it to the ground and hurriedly knelt before her. The hands of the man, who had spent over fifty years wielding a sword, were dirty and lost their way, hovering in the air. The servants who had been planting herbs around her stood up and stomped their feet. Dominic, Ricardo's son, who had approached unnoticed, quickly untied the cloth around his neck and handed it to her.

"Use this to stop the bleeding for now. You, go and fetch some water!"

"Yes, I'll be right back."

The servants, following his instructions, hurriedly left the field.

"Father, what are you doing? You're not calling a doctor?"

At his son's urging, Ricardo turned to run into the castle. But he was stopped in his tracks by Frida, who held onto the fluttering end of his clothes. When Frida shook her head, the long veil above her forehead elegantly swayed.

"It's fine, Mr. Ricardo. It's just a nosebleed. It's nothing, really. Just stay here."

Ricardo looked as if he had heard that the sun sets in the evening and rises in the morning, and shouted.

"Our precious duchess has a nosebleed, and you say it's nothing? This is a big deal, a huge deal. Wait a moment. I'll fetch a doctor right away."

Even as he moved urgently, his hand gently removed Frida's hand from his clothes, as if handling a child. After reassuring her to wait a moment, he disappeared into the castle in a flash.

"Madam, please stay still. If you move, you might faint again. Sit down here. Quickly."

Dominic, who had taken off his shirt and laid it on the ground, urged her to sit down.

"That was a long time ago..."

Frida sighed deeply and stretched out her legs, sitting on his shirt. If she didn't, someone would probably carry her into the castle. In fact, it had happened only once. In the past three years, she had fainted in front of them only once. It was because the northern-born Frida couldn't adapt to the intense southern sun. But since that day, the Molli family treated her as if she fainted every day. After all, they were from the rugged southern Milabo, known for its fierce mercenaries. To them, the much smaller Frida walking around might seem miraculous. Frida, pressing her nose with the cloth Dominic had given her, slightly lifted her cumbersome veil.

"Is the bleeding not stopping?"

Dominic alternated his gaze between the cloth, which was turning red with blood, and Frida, pacing back and forth like his father. How much blood could there be in such a frail body to flow so much, really? Seeing her small face, smaller than his palm, turn completely red, he felt a pang of sympathy and his hands twitched. Realizing that this wouldn't do, Dominic quickly turned his back to Frida.

"It won't do. Get on my back. It's faster than waiting for the doctor. Quickly."

Instead of getting on Dominic's back, Frida, with her pale violet eyes sparkling, gave him a warning.

" Dominic, it's a secret from Muriel. If she finds out, she'll lock me in my room for days."

"If you wanted to keep it a secret, you shouldn't have sent a noisy person like Captain Molli into the castle."

A voice, too somber and heavy to belong to a woman, came from behind Frida's shoulder. Dominic, who had already known Muriel had arrived, whispered a warning in Frida's ear.

"Promise to stay in the castle for four days. It's better than being locked up for a week like last time."

As Dominic stepped back with a wink, Frida, with her shoulders hunched, turned around slightly. Muriel Rossivalt, the bodyguard who had followed Frida from her hometown, was staring at her with eyes as cold as her voice.

"I clearly said you shouldn't go out more than two days a week..."

"Move aside. Why are you blocking the way in an emergency?"

Ricardo, who had arrived unnoticed, pushed the knight, known for his cold and merciless nature, to the side. Throwing the doctor he had carried on his shoulder onto the muddy field, he shouted so loudly that the entire castle could hear.

"Quickly examine the duchess! If anything happens to our lady, I'll wring your neck first."

A warm spring breeze, filled with the scent of flowers, gently blew through the noisy commotion.

***

Thanks to the quick stop of the bleeding, the duchess's nosebleed incident ended with a short restriction on outings.

"You'll stay quietly in the castle for four days."

"I know. I know."

Frida, filling a basket with colorful flowers, nodded absentmindedly, half-listening to Muriel's nagging.

"How can there be so many different flowers here? I've never seen these flowers in the north. Muriel, have you seen these before?"

"No, I've seen them many times."

"Really? I don't believe it. I'm seeing them for the first time."

"You've only stayed inside the mansion."

"Oh..."

Right. That's true. Frida, muttering to herself, lifted the basket full of flowers and smiled.

"Isn't it beautiful, Muriel? The duke will like it too, won't he?"

Although she wanted to agree, Muriel didn't know how to respond to this question. Frida's husband, Duke Richard, had been unconscious since he injured his head three years ago. How could the man, who had not woken up since that day, possibly like these flowers? Reading the indifferent expression on Muriel's face, Frida pursed her lips and walked past her.

"He may not be conscious, but he's still breathing. Maybe he can smell the flowers."

"Maybe, I suppose."

"Sometimes I think he understands what I'm saying. Last night, his fingers... look. They moved like this, like this."

Muriel looked at Frida, who was wiggling her index finger, with pity. Yes. She must hold onto such hope to live. Even if her husband is in such a state, it's better to have some hope than none. Reaching the bedroom, Frida took off the hat with the veil she had been wearing. Her skin was so pale that her veins were visible, and her hair was dazzlingly white. Her mysterious violet eyes were revealed.

"Muriel, I'm really fine. I really am."

"Four days. Not a moment less. Remember that. You are different from ordinary people."

Frida, knowing that Muriel disliked the word "different," couldn't help but be hurt.

"Who doesn't know that? Tch..."

Frida grumbled as she slammed the door.

"Ah!"

Frida, who habitually looked at the bed first, was startled and dropped the basket of flowers she was holding. The flowers spilled out and scattered on the floor.

"Duke... Duke?"

***

The consciousness of Duke Daniel Rihard, who had been asleep for three years, returned suddenly and without warning.

"Ugh..."

The first sense to return was his sense of smell, which detected the faint smell of burnt wood. Next was his sense of touch. A gentle breeze, carrying a warm atmosphere, tickled his nose repeatedly. Along with these two senses, a faint voice, which had been dormant in the depths of his memory, pierced through his mind. "Stia... Hestia... sniff sniff." The whiny voice of a little girl, which he caught amidst the surrounding noise as his hearing returned, lingered for a moment before fading away. "Stop crying. Crying won't bring the dead back." The brusque voice of his younger self, which he remembered, and the voice of his mother, who had passed away suddenly, "Survive, Daniel. Being alive is what matters. No matter what happens, keep your life." However, the fragments of memories that rushed in without order soon disappeared without a trace. At the same time, Daniel's eyelids, which had not twitched for three years, slowly lifted. His blurry vision gradually began to take in the shapes around him. The familiar pattern of the ceiling, painted with birch trees, became clearer. Blink... Blink... After blinking a few times, he realized he was lying in his bedroom in the Mühaim Castle of the Utrecht Duchy.

'Huh, I'm alive again.'

At this point, he almost felt like he had reached the level of an immortal. Admiring his own tenacious life force, Daniel tried to raise his shoulders but was taken aback by an unexpected reaction from his body. What is this stiff and heavy body, like a leather boot soaked in water? This feeling was new to him, and he found it difficult to find the right words to describe it. Dull? Aching? No, it feels like my body isn't mine. Even when he had spent nearly a month camping in the notorious Atlas Mountains during the harsh winter, he hadn't felt this way. Not only did he not feel tired, but he was the first to rise and fly around, even after spending the night on the cold ground. He was so sensitive that he could detect the fluttering of a small bird's wings through the leaves. No wonder the mercenary captain, Ricardo, had joked that his lord's body had the blood of a bandit rather than a noble. Daniel, trying to move his arm, which felt like it belonged to someone else, tensed his fingertips. After wiggling his fingers a few times and making a fist, the stiffness in his hand softened, and the sensation in his arm returned. He slowly moved his ankle as well, and fortunately, the sensation returned there quickly. Daniel, using his arm to push against the bed, exerted force.

"Ugh..."

With a creak, his shoulders lifted, and then his back straightened.

"Ha, ha. Phew..."

The window must be open. A gentle breeze, carrying the scent of flowers, cooled the sweat on his neck and caressed his skin.

"Hmm..."

This time, with more effort, he managed to lift his arm. Daniel, holding his forehead with his raised hand, desperately tried to recall his memories. What was the last thing I remember? Ah, that damn Arthur Nottingen threw a spear at Dominic. Without thinking, I leaped off the horse. Then I hit my head somewhere... Bang! Bang! The sound of the door opening without a creak made Daniel reflexively reach for his waist and lift his head. The realization that he wasn't carrying a sword to deal with intruders was brief. When he recognized the person entering the room, his eyes narrowed.

A woman, so dazzlingly white that he feared he might lose his newly regained sight, appeared before him.

'What? Am I not alive but dead?'

For a moment, he thought he had seen an angel and doubted his own survival.

"Duke... Duke?"

But he had never heard of an angel speaking Svergen.

"Goodness... Could you have woken up?"

Then he remembered. Before receiving the news of the escaped son of the Nottingen Duke, he had been at his own wedding. He must have been with the woman who had entered, carrying the refreshing scent of the Altas forest. Realizing who she was, Daniel, holding his throbbing forehead, replied indifferently.

"What I want to know is..."