Spiraling

I had been in remarkably good spirits until the afternoon.

I'd boasted to Callius about my daring theft of Kavala's treasures and felt genuinely confident that everything would work out well for me.

But by the time the sun had set, my mood had transformed completely.

The sun sets with alarming swiftness in Ronheim.

It was early evening—in Arrental, the nobility's parties wouldn't have even begun yet—but here in Ronheim, people were already preparing for bed.

I looked down at the Ronheim estate where darkness had fallen like a heavy blanket.

With that darkness came a sudden, overwhelming fatigue that settled over both body and mind.

It was physical exhaustion from continued insomnia, compounded by mental weariness from adjusting to an entirely new place.

'I don't feel well.'

As my body and mind became depleted, ghostly, gloomy thoughts began creeping up from the tips of my toes, tormenting me relentlessly.

During daylight hours, I was constantly surrounded by people—greeting and chatting briefly with those I encountered, always accompanied by several maids.

At those times, I'd wanted nothing more than to be alone and rest.

But once I was actually left alone in my room, loneliness welled up inside me like dark water rising.

In the quiet room, I stared blankly out the dark window, gripped by creeping anxiety.

'What if nothing goes according to plan?'

'What if Kavala eventually discovers that I stole her treasures and fled?'

'What if I fail to win the hearts of the people here and they drive me out?'

'What if these sleepless nights continue forever?'

Rationally, I knew such outcomes were unlikely. But once negative thoughts took root, they dragged me endlessly into the abyss.

'I'll end up alone again.'

'What is the meaning of my life?'

'If only I hadn't been brought back to life, I could have rested in peace.'

'Andrea and Kavala must be laughing right now.'

'Perhaps I'm still trapped in their clutches, being manipulated like a puppet.'

My breathing became increasingly labored.

I curled into myself, gasping shallowly as though something were chasing me.

'It's hard. I'm frightened. I'm so anxious.'

As I sat hugging my knees and shivering in the chair, I suddenly remembered something Callius had said a few days ago.

"If you want to be like me, why not try exercising?"

"Exercise?"

"Muscles grow stronger and larger when they're repeatedly moved and stimulated. As muscle mass increases, the body becomes much healthier overall."

"Would someone like me really change from that? I'm not certain..."

"Try it. Don't you want to become stronger?"

"I do, but... I don't know if I can..."

"Well, how about this? There might not be immediate visible changes, but even a little movement will make you feel considerably better. Think of it as exercising to improve your mood."

"Exercise makes you feel better?"

"Absolutely. With more muscle, you'll feel less cold as well. Trust me."

Callius had then taught me some exercises appropriate for my current condition.

Initially, he'd suggested I try holding a wooden pole and lifting it up and down repeatedly. But I couldn't even raise the pole he'd offered from the ground, let alone lift and lower it properly.

Callius had presented several other implements—items he could easily lift with a single finger—but I'd had to grit my teeth and strain just to barely raise them off the floor.

It was the first time I'd ever seen Callius look so thoroughly bewildered.

After considerable thought, he'd finally arrived at a solution.

"Then... let's start with something simpler. Try standing up from a chair and sitting back down."

So I began slowly rising from the chair and sitting back down repeatedly, just as he'd instructed.

'One, two, three, four...'

I grew breathless quickly, but continued the exercise, breathing in and out slowly with each repetition.

"I want to feel less cold. I want to be healthy. I want to become stronger and feel better."

With that thought firmly in mind, I sat and stood repeatedly, enduring the burning ache in my thighs.

"What are you doing?"

It was Karl's voice.

I stopped my exercise and turned toward the direction from which the voice had come.

I felt genuinely happy when Karl appeared as if by magic, thinking I'd been so lonely. I greeted him with an enormous smile.

"Karl! You came!"

"Of course. Who else would it be?"

Karl approached with his characteristic brisk stride.

"But what exactly were you doing? Why were you fidgeting so much, sitting up and down like that?"

"Oh, this is exercise."

"Exercise?"

"Yes. Callius says that if I do this, I'll build muscle and become healthier. I might even develop muscles like his!"

"...What?"

Karl's expression shifted to something unmistakably displeased.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Karl pulled up a chair and sat down beside me with perhaps more force than necessary.

'Come to think of it, there are so many things I've been wanting to ask Karl.'

There were several questions I'd been planning to pose when Karl appeared again.

Where he came from. Who had given him the Platus bracelet he always wore on his wrist. How he'd come to Ronheim alone. How he managed to sneak into Ronheim Castle undetected.

These were things I absolutely needed to ask when Karl next visited.

But now that I actually had Karl sitting before me, I found myself reluctant to voice those questions.

Somehow, I had a strong feeling that I shouldn't know the answers.

So I abandoned all the questions I'd planned to ask and ended up posing something random instead.

"Karl, can I introduce you to Callius?"

"What?"

Karl's frown deepened with surprise.

I hesitated, then whispered in a small voice:

"If we did that, you wouldn't have to come here secretly anymore... If I said you were my friend, wouldn't he welcome you?"

I watched his frown grow more and more pronounced and added urgently:

"This place is different from the palace. Callius is definitely—!"

"Chloe."

Karl fixed me with a sharp glare.

I flinched—it was the first time he'd looked at me with such intensity.

"What's the difference? Is there anyone here who genuinely welcomes you? Do you think I don't notice that everyone suspects you?"

"That's..."

"Last time I was here, and now again—every time you open your mouth, it's 'Callius, Callius.' Do you truly believe he's a good person?"

"Karl, he is a good person. He really is."

Karl narrowed his eyes and spoke with harsh precision.

"If he were truly good, why would he still allow his subordinates to suspect you? Either he's incompetent, or he's got something dirty to hide."

"It's definitely not—"

"Chloe!"

He sighed deeply, his expression filled with pity, as though he were dying of frustration.

"You said the exact same thing when Andrea pressured you about marrying Viscount Pelsus. You kept insisting there must be extenuating circumstances. What circumstances could possibly justify that?"

I couldn't respond when confronted with his upset expression.

He spoke earnestly, as though begging me to please come to my senses.

"Don't trust someone you've only just met. I'm telling you to be careful. Please, don't blindly trust anyone. Aren't you simply having trouble standing on your own, so you're desperate for someone to lean on?"

The words stung.

Was that true? Perhaps Karl was right.

Maybe it was because dealing with Kavala and Andrea alone felt overwhelming, so I wanted to trust and rely on just anyone who showed me kindness.

I pouted and retorted softly, unwilling to admit that I might trust too easily.

"But Callius is... different from Andrea."

"How exactly?"

"He's gentle and kind. He's a good person. That's why everyone here loves him."

"Andrea was also kind and gentle to you at first."

"No! I told you, he's different from Andrea!"

Karl looked at me as though he were genuinely worried I'd lost my senses.

"You're being far too passive. What if he betrays you?"

"Betrayal..."

That word brought memories of my past life flooding back—the betrayal I'd suffered from Andrea and Kavala, the only people I'd trusted and followed. The memories tore at my heart viciously.

Karl spoke firmly, and my shoulders slumped with the weight of his words.

"If you want to trust Marquis Rodrian, trust yourself first. I don't trust him. Don't tell him about me."

"...Yes. I understand."

Callius entered the bedroom earlier than usual that evening.

Contrary to his expectations, the bed was empty.

'Where is she? What could she be doing?'

It was painful to watch Chloe suffer from the curse every night, but it had become a genuine pleasure to talk with her before sleep claimed them both.

These days, Callius found himself looking forward to the evenings because he enjoyed spending that quiet time alone with Chloe.

After those conversations, Callius would wake early in the morning and begin his day by searching for traces of his mother.

After his mother's murder, he'd closed himself off from the places where she'd lived, deliberately ignoring anywhere that held remnants of her presence for over a decade.

Encountering such reminders made it devastatingly real that his mother was truly gone, and the pain had been unbearable.

But despite that psychological torment, Callius had been forcing himself to revisit those places and examine his mother's records again.

Because he wanted—needed—to save Chloe.

Tonight, as on previous evenings, Callius had been lingering in the bedroom, anticipating his time with Chloe.

That was when he heard it.

Chloe's voice, drifting from her adjacent room—speaking to someone.

She wasn't alone.

Someone was with her—someone she was hiding from him.

In the darkness, Karl warned her not to trust.In the adjoining room, Callius discoveredshe was keeping dangerous secrets.

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