The light had waned by the time we returned to the estate.

Goodness! I need an occlasia tree fruit.

Clearly, I had no intention of dying anytime soon. As soon as we set foot in the house, I snuck away from the others and secretly wolfed down a fruit.

I’ll be cured if I regularly eat them, right?

There was only a single line detailing the treatment in the original story. The medical knowledge came from the far-off east lands. Well, one thing was certain, I was becoming healthier after I began eating the fruit—at a scary pace.

But I’ll probably end up as a beggar on the street if I run away in this condition. I’m not completely healed by any means. At least my surroundings were more than ideal for an orphan like me. Thanks to the duke’s great wealth, there was an abundance of high-quality goods and food. Call me a freeloader for all I care. I should and will mooch off this house as long as I can.

It was still hard to believe a grove of occlasia trees was in the garden, and my room had the easiest access to them. It was the best place to rest while I was sick, the cure within my reach.

Yup, yup. I’ll heal myself in secret, then flee before anyone has a chance to figure out what happened.

And by “anyone,” I meant my father-in-law and husband, who will either eventually kill me or lose interest in me. I had to keep my plan a secret from those two. Naturally, I also needed to be cautious around the various servants at the estate who were Klaudin’s extended eyes and ears. Even Lisa, my maid, had to be kept at a distance for I couldn’t be sure of her true allegiance.

No problem. I’m confident in my acting skills.

Determined to live, I began to detail my escape plan.

Plan A: survive by any means necessary and escape with the large sum of coins I can secretly accumulate. After all, a poorly funded getaway would just be pitiful. Plan A was clear-cut and low-risk, but it would take a long time to prepare.

Then there was plan B: burrow in like a tick here, win over the duke’s love—a father-daughter kind—and have him pronounce, “I would rather enjoy the delightful company of my Laria than continue with my quest for domination of the royal family!”

Is it too far-fetched to imagine they’ll love me back if I act good? I’m willing to do whatever it takes…

Well, the duke wanted the royal family under his thumb. The question was why. If I knew the answer to that, I would definitely succeed with plan B. I wish I knew Klaudin’s true desires. But there’s no way for me to find out.

Yes, I was certainly going to escape, but I couldn’t deny I felt a modest yearning to have a good relationship with the duke and Evan, even if they were effectively my jailers.

To be honest, the duke seemed a lot like a white knight when he offered to pay off my debts at the funeral. Yet I couldn’t deny the distinct possibility of being sent to the grave early if I couldn’t earn the duke’s love. One wrong move and it’s game over. All perils must be treaded with measured steps. Plan A for now.

It occurred to me then that plan B was best left as a distant pipe dream, buried deep, deep within my heart. I was dealt a difficult hand, but regardless of the frustration it entailed, it was my reality. I was more likely to win the lottery than succeed with plan B. I decided it would be a good idea to first focus on plan A.

Fortunately, in The Grand Deal of the Empire, Seymour, the male protagonist, was a fanatical capitalist and eventually accumulated huge sums of wealth for himself. I thought maybe I could become as rich as him if I used my knowledge of his fiscal success. That was my hope, at least.

Now, I mustn’t forget that the plan must be carried out without anyone in the house knowing.

* * *

I shuffled my way up to my quarters. Upon arriving, I noticed there were stacks of unfamiliar books scattered about the room. I had not kept a single book in my room prior to this discovery.

What are these for? Is this some sort of a message, a hint... Are you telling me that I should devote my time to my studies now that my husband has returned?

Admittedly, I was spending most of my days loafing around to my heart’s content. Duke Klaudin never forced any studies on me, especially not ones that taught how to be a good wife to a duke’s heir. I was also not part of high society. It would have been mad to expect a celebration when my marriage had been discreet. The duke had pretty much left me to my own devices. It was as if he were letting me know I was just a tool meant to serve his plans—a sacrifice that would die quietly.

Hmm. Maybe people got the wrong idea and think I’m irresponsible and have been enjoying myself too much.

Suddenly self-conscious, I opened the topmost book.

Huh?

I bit my lip, totally baffled by what I saw. What I opened wasn’t a book.

—Reading a bedtime story until I fall asleep. Gently patting my head when there’s something to commend. Sharing our favorite dishes. Going for walks together and having all sorts of conversations. Picking out my clothes for important events.

It was a diary. And there was even a title: If I Had a Mother.

Frantic, I shut the book and returned it to the exact place I found it.

Wait, wait. Why are Evan’s diary and books littered across my room?

Something was wrong. Very wrong. I darted to my bed on the opposite side of my room, then closed my eyes.

He’s going to grow up and become a cold, unfeeling man. But right now, he’s still just a boy. A neglected boy whose own father paid him little attention, who knew only of life at an academy from the age of six—that was Evan’s story.

I guess he wasn’t so... numb to begin with. It was so sad seeing him standing alone among the other happy children. He was like a puzzle piece that didn’t seem to fit with the rest. Maybe it affected me more because I, too, was an orphan in my previous life. The loneliness wasn’t so apparent on ordinary days—those days passed like a blur—but on special occasions, that’s when it reared its ugly head and brought everything down. Maturity is a cure for such feelings, but a child who knows they aren’t loved will always carry that sadness with them.

He’s older than me, bigger than me, and even looks older than his age... He certainly doesn’t look like a miserable child and thus doesn’t elicit sympathy from others.

His image was like an antithesis of mine. I required little effort to come off as a feeble, weak soul in need of pity, but he didn’t have that advantage.

But...

I took deep breaths to steady my racing heart.

Those were my exact wishes from long ago.

An uncomfortable sense of empathy and connection washed over me. Longing for someone who would love me unconditionally was something I was all too familiar with.

I—stunned and perhaps a little wounded—was lying silently on the bed when the door burst open.

“Lisa? You ought to knock before entering.”

Until then, Lisa was the only person who frequented my room, so I carried on as usual.

“And why are all these books in my roo—” I wasn’t able to finish.

“Must I announce myself before entering my room?”

I jolted, opening my eyes wide. It was Evan’s detached voice.

“And these books are all mine. I’ll have them organized, so don’t touch them.”

No way. There was absolutely no way. I slowly rose from the bed, an ominous feeling creeping through my body.

“Your... room?” I asked.

“I don’t suppose you thought this was your personal space? This was originally my room.” Evan retorted as if the thought itself annoyed him.

When I thought about it, I realized it truly was too big for just me. The bed was unnecessarily wide, the shelves were completely vacant and half of the wardrobe was empty. It bothered me that not a single person had been interested in letting me in on this important detail. But from the servants’ perspective, it might have been a gamble to first approach a girl—albeit the daughter-in-law of the duke himself—who appeared out of nowhere one day.

“As husband and wife, we ought to use a single chamber,” Evan explained.

True. We were already legally married.

I’m not ready to share a room with a man, though...

Evan’s next words interrupted my thoughts. “And before we proceed, I must discuss something important with you.”

“Sure. What is it?” Still feeling a bit sorry for accidentally reading his diary, I tried hard to cast a friendly smile. But I wasn’t prepared for the bombshell he was about to say, which left my mouth wide open.

“We can sleep in the same bed, but I don’t want to make a baby together.”

“W-what...”

“Not yet, at least.”

I prided myself in my ability to process unpredictable events or news, but this one left me at a complete loss for words.

“I think we both need to become adults before we can adequately raise a child.”

He lost it, hadn’t he? What thirteen-year-old boy says such things? My ears were burning red, and I was about to object at that very instant.

“So don’t grab my hand when we’re in bed together.”

“Huh?” I asked, blinking in surprise.

“You didn’t know? I... Well, it’s not like I’ve known the truth for long myself,” he said, elevating his chin as if he had won a small victory. “Don’t you know that if a married couple sleeps together while holding hands, they’ll give birth to a baby?”

“Oh...” My rhythmic blinks continued to substitute words, and I gazed at him, in awe at the discrepancy between his mature face and his age.

I don’t suppose looks accurately represent one’s mental age. I don’t think so at all...

“Yes, I know. It shocked me quite a bit when I learned the truth. But we cannot live as children forever, you know?”

It seemed as if he were the one attempting to reason with an unreasonable child.

“You’re fourteen this year, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes... I am.” Utterly dazed, I replied just for the sake of it.

But suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad to share the room with Evan.