In the square, an old woman knelt facing the castle gates—held captive by the knights.
The old woman's family wept and clung to the knights' arms, begging for mercy.
"She's my mother! Please spare her! If someone must be punished, let it be me! Please...!"
The old woman's son fell to his knees before the knights, while his wife burst into tears beside him.
"I should have watched her more carefully! It's my fault—she's sick, that's why she's like this!"
Even a small child cried and tugged at the knights' cloaks.
"Please let go of my grandmother...! Please...!"
The knights felt sorry for the family, but they had no choice except to turn away. They were waiting for orders from the castle.
Meanwhile, the people who had come to receive grain didn't return home. They gathered in the square, watching the scene unfold.
They pointed fingers at the castle, accusing Chloe of forcing the poor old woman to kneel on the cold stone.
"The Princess of Arrental is truly merciless!"
"Is she trying to kill that old woman? Making her kneel in this cold!"
"Oh my, what will become of that poor family?"
Although the old woman had been stopped before she could do real harm, it was she who had attacked first.
But Chloe—who was already hated by the people—was protecting an old woman they pitied. So they were quick to curse Chloe instead.
Then the castle gates opened.
Two knights rode out.
The crowd held its breath, wondering what orders the knights had received.
"If it were our Prince, he would have shown mercy..."
"Didn't the Prince stop her?"
Everyone hoped that Callius had intervened to prevent Chloe from being too harsh.
The knight called out to his fellows.
"Release the old woman!"
Everyone in the square who heard those words assumed the Prince—who cared for his people—had resolved the situation.
But instead of saying, "By the lord's order!" the knights who had ridden from the castle said something unexpected.
"By the Marchioness's order!"
Then, without being asked, the knights added loudly for the benefit of the gathered crowd:
"As soon as the Marchioness regained consciousness, she ordered us not to punish the old woman and to release her immediately."
In an instant, the square fell silent.
The accusations that had filled the air moments before vanished completely—replaced by stunned quiet.
The knights dismounted, lifted the old woman gently to her feet, and returned her to her family.
The family bowed deeply toward the castle, their voices breaking with gratitude.
"Thank you! Thank you so much, Marchioness!"
They cried out for a long time, tears of relief streaming down their faces—even though they knew Chloe couldn't hear them from so far away.
Meanwhile, the old woman—still not in her right mind—struggled to shake off the arms trying to steady her.
"You witch! Where have you been?! You took my youngest son's life, and now you dare come here?! You've come to die, haven't you, you witch!"
The old woman raged on, not even realizing who she was cursing or what mercy she had just received.
The square filled with two sounds: the old woman's furious condemnation of Chloe, and her family's grateful sobs.
"..."
"..."
The crowd stood speechless.
In their hands and on their shoulders, they carried sacks full of grain—grain that Chloe had arranged to be distributed.
Food to survive the winter.
This grain would help many people avoid starvation and endure the harsh season ahead.
The people felt the weight of the sacks of wheat and barley they carried.
It was the weight of grace.
Chloe had shown mercy to people who didn't welcome her. She had forgiven an old woman who tried to harm her.
"...Incredible."
"Ahem..."
Here and there, people coughed—unable to overcome their embarrassment.
Many in the crowd realized something as they watched the old woman's continued ranting.
We're no different from that old woman with dementia.
Hadn't they, like her, only suspected and criticized the wrong person while ignoring the one who actually hurt them?
Like the old woman, they hadn't realized they'd received a favor. Instead, they had looked at Chloe—who was trying to care for them—with cold, suspicious glares.
Still, some in the crowd couldn't read the room and continued to criticize.
"Tsk, tsk. She should have released the old woman much sooner. Why drag it out like this? What has the Princess been doing all this time?"
A wife elbowed her husband sharply in the ribs.
"Stop it, you. You saw her lose consciousness and get carried away!"
"So what?! I watched the whole thing from the beginning—the old woman didn't even touch a single hair on the Princess's head! It was all an act, I tell you!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Everything's been resolved, so why are you still complaining? Let's just go home."
"Why are you so angry?"
"Ugh, come ON!"
The wife dragged her oblivious husband away.
Following their lead, the people gathered in the square began to disperse one by one.
Even though they returned home with full loads of grain, somehow they couldn't quite feel happy about it.
I smiled faintly when I heard the report that the old woman had been safely returned to her family.
"Thank goodness."
But my expression quickly darkened again.
Callius asked worriedly.
"Is there still something troubling you?"
My expression must have looked terribly sad.
I looked up at the ceiling as I spoke.
"You said it was difficult for southerners to endure Ronheim's cold..."
"Yes. You're not the only one struggling."
"But Lamia, who came from the south with me... and the other maids Kavala sent... none of them have had it as hard as I have."
I blinked rapidly several times, trying to hold back tears.
"It's only me who's like this."
"..."
"Will I ever... be able to adapt to Ronheim's cold?"
I tried to hold them back, but tears welled up in my eyes anyway.
"I don't want to leave Ronheim. I don't want to go back."
I pulled my arm out from beneath the blankets and reached for Callius's hand.
My grip was so weak.
My hand, resting on his, looked like some kind of withered plant root.
"Will I be able to adapt to Ronheim?"
My eyes were filled with fear.
Callius hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure what to say.
I made my expression as stubborn and determined as I could.
"If... if by any chance I can't adapt... if anything happens to me... just let me stay here anyway."
Callius looked at me with pity in his eyes.
"You will be able to adapt."
He took my hand carefully—so gently, as if it might break with the slightest pressure.
"I'll definitely find a way. Don't worry too much."
"Really? Is that... possible?"
"Yes."
Only then did I feel relieved. My expression softened.
"Thank you... thank you for saying that."
I smiled through my tears.
After that, I couldn't get out of bed for quite some time.
I was so weak that I could barely stand for even a moment. So I had no choice but to lie still in my room.
Callius set everything else aside and searched desperately for a way to stop the curse.
He reexamined Ilya's records—which he'd already studied carefully—and read through documents from even further back in history.
Meanwhile, time continued to pass without mercy.
Chef Latina, determined to keep me eating properly, prepared a new dish every single day—sparing no expense on the finest ingredients. Everything was made to be easy to digest.
Even when it wasn't mealtime, she would bring food she'd made herself and feed it to me every hour.
"Just one more bite. One more bite, my lady."
Even when I said I had no appetite, Latina would persist until I finished.
"This isn't just food—it's love. So you can eat it."
But despite all her efforts, my strength continued to decline day by day.
It was disappointing to everyone who wished for my recovery.
I struggled for several days with the cold that felt like it was freezing my very heart.
Although my body was exhausted, mentally I was happier than I had ever been.
Because so many people worried about me and took such good care of me.
I was living the most love-filled days of my entire life.
"I feel bad for worrying everyone around me... but being sick isn't always a bad thing."
I said something like that without thinking, and Lamia scolded me for it.
But I meant it.
I liked the affection and attention given to me. The outpouring of love was so sweet that I thought it would be all right to die right now—if I had to die like this, surrounded by such tenderness.
Time passed quickly in many ways.
All the while, my mind kept returning to thoughts of the blonde woman I'd seen in the square.
She was clearly one of Kavala's close maids. Could it be that Kavala herself has come to Ronheim?
When I finally had enough energy, I called Alex and asked him about her.
"Sir Alex, I saw a blonde woman in the square the day I collapsed. She was talking to one of the knights. Do you happen to know who she was?"
I asked Alex—who had been beside me that day—wondering if he'd seen her.
Surprisingly, Alex answered very easily.
"Oh, are you talking about Andrew's sister, Hillen?"
To be continued...
---