Without much hesitation, we soon stepped into the count's office.
The office screamed "a man who doesn't work lives here."
Look at all the dust on the bookshelves! And the desk—was it a whiskey stand or a document holder?
While Tristan checked the checklist he had brought, I organized the office's documents and books according to the Dewey Decimal System.
"I'll stick the book classification system on the side of the bookshelf. Please refer to it when you're looking for something."
"Thank you, Dory. …And if you get tired, feel free to go rest anytime. I'll probably be sitting here working for hours, so don't mind me at all."
"Got it."
Just as he said, except for dinner, Tristan didn't leave the office desk for hours.
After finishing organizing even the study's books and moving some useful ones into the office, I heard a quick rundown of the mansion's situation from the maids.
They were all quite happy about the change in ownership.
"I heard about the old stories! Apparently, twenty years ago, one of the maids got thrown out while pregnant! No wonder the count always looked at young maids in such a creepy way."
"If there's ever any unpleasantness between the staff, don't hesitate to tell me. How's the new head maid adjusting?"
"She's a bit overwhelmed from the sudden promotion, but she's always been diligent. I'm sure she'll do great."
Apparently, Tristan had fired the former head maid on the same day he issued the warrant against Count Braum.
The former head maid had helped the count force Leyla out without any experience or references.
Now that the truth had spread, it would be difficult for her to find work elsewhere.
After a long chat with the maids, I stepped out into the hallway and found a servant waiting for me with a large bag.
"The courier delivered this. It's from the capital."
"Ah, thank you."
I knew who it was from the moment I opened the bag and saw the letter sitting right on top.
Without even saying goodbye, my little sister had run off in such a hurry that she couldn't even pack properly.
So, I'm sending you a change of clothes and a negotiation tool you can use with anyone, just in case.
If you're grateful, come home as soon as possible.
'Natalie, you're too much sometimes…'
It seemed the Crown Princess had tipped her off about the situation.
Below the letter were a change of clothes, a large glass jar of cookies, and a small hammer.
My sister's kindness always leaned toward the destructive side.
'I'll be home soon enough, don't worry, sis.'
After all, I had left without properly explaining anything to our parents.
Now that I'd managed to exchange the most important words with Tristan, it would be better for me to return to the capital first and leave him here to finish things.
…But one thing was still bothering me.
It wasn't something that had to be resolved.
If anything, trying to resolve it hastily might only make things worse.
And yet, I…
…Somewhere, I heard the sound of water.
A door creaked open.
Someone threw a towel aside.
Wet feet padded cautiously across the floor… and then creak, the sound of someone settling onto a bed.
The scent of soap, warm and humid, filled the room.
This could only mean—
"…Where are you going, Your Highness?"
Tristan, who had been about to leave the guestroom bed, froze in place.
Under the moonlight, his eyes trembled like a boy caught trying to sneak away after pulling a prank.
"Sorry. I just wanted to peek in on you for a second, but I woke you up."
"Ah… I must have dozed off while resting for a bit."
"Go back to sleep. If you want to wake up at a certain time, I'll wake you then."
"…Are you seriously going back to work at this hour?"
"Your Highness, be honest—am I wrong to think you're trying to run away again?"
"W-What?! No way!"
Seeing how flustered he was, I must have hit the mark.
He waved his hands desperately for a moment before slowly lowering his head under my steady gaze.
"It's not running away, not physically anyway. I mean, I would never leave my fiancée alone at the Blue Atrium."
"Of course not. If you did, I'd tell Natalie."
"Please don't! I just… I just felt like I saw too much of you today, and I was trying to avoid it."
"Huh?"
Is there a daily recommended intake for looking at your fiancée's face?!
Faced with my bewilderment, Tristan leaned in as if to reassure me, sitting at the edge of the bed.
Drops of water from his hair fell onto the back of my hand, and the faint scent of soap reached me.
"Sigh… Honestly, when I left the capital yesterday morning, I tried to prepare myself. I thought, 'What if she wants to stay in her hometown after we get married? Could we manage being apart for half the year?'"
What are we, Hades and Persephone?
"Does it even make sense to live separately after getting married?"
"It was one of the ideas I came up with while worrying about how you could find happiness in a marriage to a man you don't love."
"…But then you wouldn't be happy."
"That would be better than watching you be miserable."
"…"
"I ran away, trying to get used to a world without you… but it ended up doing the opposite."
Tristan leaned deeper into the bed, reaching out a hand toward my cheek.
All I could feel was the warmth of someone who had just stepped out of the bath.
He didn't touch me—he just hovered nearby, speaking quietly.
"I'm not worthy of you. If you ever left me, people would immediately assume it was my fault—and they'd be right.
I'm the kind of man who's too disgraceful even to be kept as a fiancé, let alone a husband."
"Your Highness…"
"It's only through your choice that I'm even allowed to be by your side… and I'm terrified of getting used to that kind of luck."
Even sitting beside me on the same bed, he couldn't shake his fear.
His hand hovered near me, never touching, as if afraid that the moment he did, I would vanish like a mirage.
I could tell him—over and over again.
"I'll stay by your side. I love you. We're going to get married…"
But right now, what Tristan needed wasn't that kind of comfort.
At the moment he showed me his vulnerable heart, there was only one thing I had to express.
My own fear.
I leaned forward as if collapsing, aiming shamelessly for Tristan's arms. As expected, though flustered, he caught me with his body.
"Dory, what are you—"
"I'm holding onto you so you don't run away. I have to face my fears too, now."
"Fears? What fears?"
"Your Highness, let me ask you just one thing. Do you remember when you first started to like me?"
"I'm… not exactly sure, but wait a moment."
As I looked up at Tristan, deep in thought, I turned over my fear again in my mind. The current Dory Redfield was a being born from me. Originally, she had only a simple setting—just a minor character with a family and a name. But my face, my body, my personality had been overlaid onto her, until she was almost indistinguishable from the real me.
Still, that didn't erase Dory's past—the history of her engagement to Tristan from five years ago.
'What if Tristan loved the Dory from before I possessed her…?'
Even though I knew there would be nothing I could do about it, I couldn't stop myself from asking.
After a brief silence, Tristan finally opened his mouth.
"Do you remember the spring tea party at the count's estate earlier this year?"
Of course I remembered.
It was my first tea party after cramming for a month to learn court etiquette post-possession.
Between the pressure and the corset, I thought I might pass out, but somehow I pulled through, feeling proud of myself afterward…
"That day, I saw you pick up a cookie you had dropped and eat it."
"…Excuse me?"
"You always acted like a walking etiquette manual, but seeing you desperately pick up that cookie and pretend nothing had happened was surprisingly… adorable.
After that, I couldn't stop noticing you."
"I—I didn't eat it off the floor!"
"Are you sure about that?"
"…"
I couldn't be sure.
But even so, a part of my heart eased slightly. Because I could be certain now—his feelings had started because of me.
'…But seriously, you fell for me because of that?!'
As I was silently panicking over that revelation, I heard Tristan's voice by my ear.
"Dory. Isn't it about time you got up from my arms?"
"Why?"
"From this angle, all I can see is your forehead and the bridge of your nose. I feel like I'm missing the chance to see you smiling right now."
"I'm comfortable just like this. What if I don't want you to see?"
"Then I'll have to find another way to check. Pardon me, my lady."
Tristan's hand carefully brushed over my face—tracing the shape of my eyebrows, skipping gently past my sensitive eyes, but lingering tenderly over the corners of my mouth.
Through his hand, he was learning: Dory Redfield was real, right here, able to smile because of her fiancé.
"…It seems like just touching you isn't enough."
In an instant, he lifted me into a seated position, facing him.
And soon, what touched my lips wasn't just his gaze—
It was his smile, the one he could finally wear when looking at me.
Slowly, with our bodies leaning into each other, the dawn began to fall.