Chapter 3

The scent of the forest wafted through the open window. Even while unconscious, his nose had apparently functioned, for the fragrance of his short-lived fief was quite familiar. Still, to have slept for three years. If that was the case, it must have been seven years since Leopold became emperor and granted this land to Daniel. Daniel leaned his right shoulder against the bedside and gazed out the window at the landscape, now dimming with the setting sun. Leopold Volstark II, Emperor of Sveergen. He had given the title of Duke of Rihard and this land, Utrecht, to his half-brother Daniel, who had brought him the throne. Most of the duchy was surrounded by mountains, with little arable land, and few vassals to manage the sparse territory. Even so, Leopold had defied the opposition of Empress Margret, who thought even this was too much. From Leopold's perspective, it was a significant decision. If he knew that Daniel neither particularly appreciated nor was grateful for this land and the name Rihard, he might feel quite disappointed. So be it. Who would bother with such troublesome things?

"Um..."

A hesitant voice came from quite close. Turning his head, Daniel quietly looked at the woman who had approached the bed. The woman he had mistaken for an angel, dressed in white. In the northern forest he visited with his maternal grandfather Massimo's mercenary group when he turned fourteen, he had thought he saw an angel there too. With the cool breeze that came through the window, a flood of memories rushed in, even those that had not surfaced for a very long time, unbidden.

"You, Daniel Johannes Rihard, take Frieda Cloud Harkbon as your wife..."

The wrinkled, thin priest reciting the marriage vows.

"H-Hestia... Hestia-nee... sniff..."

The voice of a little girl, sobbing with a lisp.

"Frieda, where are you? Frieda!"

Daniel swept his hair, which tickled his cheek, to the side and twisted his lips bitterly. Despite it being spring, the wind was so warm that his eyes slowly closed.

"Um... Your Grace."

He opened his eyes at the sound of his name. A pair of sparkling purple eyes were looking at him. Does this woman know how she became the nominal Duchess of Rihard? Daniel silently met her gaze, which was clear and pure, unlike the flirtatious looks often given by the noblewomen of Schendal. When he only looked at her without saying much, the woman hesitated to continue. Finally, Daniel spoke first.

"Speak."

Frieda quickly responded as if she had been waiting.

"The doctor said you can have soft soup if you're hungry. Should I bring some?"

"..."

When Daniel opened his mouth again, Frieda blinked and fidgeted with her skirt. Is it really appropriate to suggest eating right after someone has woken up from a three-year slumber? The anxious Frieda, fidgeting with her hands, suddenly noticed the curtain flapping strongly and hurried to the window. She had been so busy that she hadn't even noticed the sun setting.

"I'm sorry. I forgot to close the door. Isn't it cold with the night air?"

After firmly closing the window, Frieda reached out and pulled the blanket up to Daniel's chest without hesitation.

"The doctor said to keep you warm for a while, so I'll light the fireplace tonight. Oh, you've been sweating a lot. Wait a moment. I'll help you clean up and change into new clothes."

"You?"

"Yes, of course I will..."

Their eyes met as Frieda was arranging the flower-patterned blanket. Her white eyebrows fluttered like a sparrow's wings, trembling incessantly.

"Ah... I mean, I always do this."

Embarrassed, Frieda quickly withdrew her arm and took a step back. A rosy blush spread across her face, as pure and white as the first snow in the Atlas mountains. Daniel, who had been looking at her slender, white neck, devoid of any jewelry, lazily opened his eyes.

"I want to rest today, so don't worry about me. I'll start eating from tomorrow."

"Ah, then I'll have the fireplace lit right away."

"Are you alright?"

"Huh?"

Frieda, about to call a servant, turned her head, puzzled. For a while, their eyes met—her delicate yet strong purple eyes and his serious, strong chestnut eyes. Daniel's calm, yet gentle voice, like a spring breeze, reached Frieda.

"You have no color in your face. Are you feeling unwell?"

Frieda, looking down at her skin and hair, which were whiter than just white, shivered. She suddenly realized that the Duke had seen her face for the first time today. At the wedding, her face had been covered by a veil, and even then, the Duke had left the ceremony immediately, so it had been only a brief moment. How did this man perceive her appearance, which was so different from others? Frieda, who had moved a step further from the bed, looked at herself in the window. Her face and eyelashes were as white as her skin, and her hands seemed even whiter today. She turned her eyes away, only to be drawn to her unusual silver hair, which fell limply below her shoulders. The Harkbon family was known for its women with exceptionally white skin and hair. In the early days of the empire, such unique appearances were treated with reverence because they had produced a saint. People assumed they had divine powers and revered them as a blessed family. However, three hundred years later, the "blessing" on the Harkbon family had become a "curse." Women with such unique appearances often did not live to adulthood, like Frieda's two older sisters. The third daughter of the Harkbon family, Frieda Cloud Harkbon, was born with white skin from head to toe, just like her sisters. The only difference was her purple eyes, unlike her sisters' vivid red eyes. No family wanted to take a Harkbon daughter now, and many people avoided them, thinking they were unlucky. Even among the maids in the Harkbon mansion, there were many who did not want to be near Frieda. It was only natural for the Duke to feel repulsed. She should have been more careful, but she had let her guard down. Living among the people of the duchy who treated her like family, she had unknowingly...

"No, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Your Grace."

Her purple eyes, under her white eyebrows, trembled. After a long while, Daniel's eyes, which had been fixed on Frieda, finally moved. His voice, suddenly filled with fatigue, lowered.

"Have the servants attend to me from now on. There's no need for you to do it personally."

Frieda bit her lip. It was understandable. Anyone would be wary of someone different from ordinary people.

"Yes, I understand. I apologize for overstepping. If I made you uncomfortable..."

At her words, Daniel, who had been running his fingers through his hair, stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"Huh?"

"I don't remember saying I was uncomfortable. Did I?"

"No, but..."

Daniel felt suffocated by the situation, which seemed to be going off track. He didn't understand why the woman, whose eyes had been sparkling with curiosity, was now speaking in a dying voice and bowing her head. He had never had a conversation while sitting on a bed, which made him uncomfortable. Pushing the blanket aside, Daniel put his feet on the floor. Fortunately, his body wasn't completely stiff, and he could feel strength in his lower body. He stood on the floor for a moment to get used to the sensation, then straightened his back with effort. He had to hold onto the bedpost, but he managed to stand up without much difficulty.

"You shouldn't push yourself so suddenly..."

Frieda, startled by Daniel's sudden action, looked up at the man who had suddenly towered over her. Her clear, mysterious light purple eyes grew wider. Daniel, who had been staring at the scene, slowly spoke.

"I disappeared without properly completing the wedding and then reappeared in a coma. You took care of me for three years. If anything was inappropriate or uncomfortable, I must have caused more of that."

"No, that's not true. You were just sleeping peacefully."

Frieda waved her hands, and her white hair, loosely tied, danced on her shoulders.

"You never did anything uncomfortable. It was I who was clumsy and made mistakes. Sometimes, I even cut your chin while shaving... I'm sorry."

Her head, which had briefly lifted, dropped again. In fact, it happened often. Dominic, who had taught her how to shave, had even joked that the Duke might die from excessive bleeding. Frieda's voice, which had been quick, became smaller.

"I meant that I'm sorry for touching your body without permission and causing discomfort."

"I'm surprised, but not uncomfortable. So there's no need for you to apologize."

The scent of earth and grass came from the woman standing close. A scent not usually found on noblewomen. It made him wonder what this delicate woman had been doing while he was asleep.

"I was just concerned that this life might have been difficult for you. Your complexion is very pale."

Pale... complexion? I was born this way. A deep wrinkle appeared on Frieda's forehead as she noticed something strange in the Duke's reaction.

"Your Grace... Do you...?"

Surely not. There couldn't be anyone in the empire who didn't know about the Harkbon family's women.

"Do you know about my serious condition?"

"..."

Frieda took another step back, confirming the Duke's ignorance from his expressionless face. What? He really doesn't know? Nothing about the Harkbon women? Unlike the calm Daniel, Frieda was at a loss and paced in front of him. Her hands, covering her forehead, trembled with her voice.

"If you didn't know, this is a fraudulent marriage."

It was something she couldn't have imagined even in her dreams. Frieda tried to calm her startled heart and urgently shouted.

"If you married me without knowing my situation, this is a very serious problem!"

While she was flustered and at a loss, Duke Rihard remained unmoved, like an indifferent person. He seemed completely different from the man who had spouted fierce curses in front of the Molli father and son. Frustrated, Frieda's words sped up.

"Women from the Harkbon family, like me, don't live past twenty. So, I don't know when or how I might... like my sister Hestia."

"Do you mean like your sister Hestia?"

Frieda, forgetting that she was a well-educated daughter of a noble family with a long and distinguished history, opened her mouth wide.

"Y-You know my sister?"

"No, I don't."

Feeling weak, Daniel answered indifferently and sat back on the bed.

"I know your name is not Hestia but 'Frieda.'"

Then, looking at Frieda, who couldn't take her eyes off him, he added coldly.

"And that it is a fraudulent marriage."