"Mom. My beloved mom."
"Quiet, don't talk anymore. You're in so much pain, aren't you? How could this be... my baby. Don't be afraid. Mama will heal you. I *will*."
Ryder absorbed the overwhelming love and care with his entire being. It was as if the whole world had been concentrated into a single person—this woman who held him, who refused to let go. But time was short, and instead of being capricious, he needed to convey his words while he still could.
"If this is the end of me, let me at least have the last word."
"No, no! Ryder!" Kinder's voice cracked, shattering into sobs. "Why are you talking about death? *Why?*"
Unlike the unusually calm child, she wept openly, her cries so raw and desperate that they seemed to tear from somewhere deep in her chest. The relentless drumming of rain against the windows swallowed her sounds, making them feel even more futile—a mother's anguish lost to the storm.
The scene seemed inverted, roles cruelly reversed: the adult woman refusing to accept death while the child had already resigned himself to it.
"Mom. Listen to me."
*Last will.*
Perhaps it was the weight of those unspoken words that lent his voice such clarity. Even through the fever, he spoke distinctly, without the rattling coughs that usually plagued him—like an old man burning through the final spark of life before the darkness claimed him.
Kinder didn't want to believe it. But somewhere in the marrow of her bones, she sensed these truly were her last moments with him. She swallowed back the sob clawing at her throat and leaned closer, so close that his fevered breath brushed hot against her ear.
"Even if I am gone, Mother... please protect the Marquis's house."
"Ryder?"
"Even though I may never inherit the title, *you* must retain it."
He spoke of what would happen after his death. His last will concerned not his own wishes, but his mother—who, after his passing, would be left utterly alone. Perhaps with nothing at all.
After the death of both her father and Ryder himself, she would have nothing left but the Marquis's house. And she mustn't lose that either.
"Don't trust the butler." His small hand found hers, squeezing with what little strength remained. "And the nanny too."
Kinder nodded, her jaw tight, indicating she was listening. Ryder watched her with something like satisfaction—then suddenly convulsed, a violent coughing fit seizing his thin frame.
When it passed, his voice emerged smaller. Younger.
"Forgive me for leaving you alone."
He had done what he had to do, as befitted a young heir. First the right words, the necessary words. Only then did he allow himself to be a child.
Tears spilled freely down his pale cheeks. Ryder began to cry—truly cry—clinging to his mother the way children cling when they are genuinely, desperately afraid.
"I... I really wanted to be like Father."
"Ryder..."
The boy had dreamed of becoming like the man he barely remembered. The man so loved and so bitterly mourned throughout the Marquis's house.
"I wanted to become a worthy leader."
"No, Ryder." Kinder's voice broke, but she pressed on, fierce and tender all at once. "You did better than anyone. There's no other child in the world as wonderful as you. *None.*"
Ryder was a smart boy. He knew well that only one person in the world could think of him like that.
"I hate this too... this *curse*. I didn't ask for this."
"It's not a curse! Not at all!" Fire blazed through her grief. "Who dared say such a thing? Tell me, and Mama will deal with them!"
"Mom..." His voice had grown so faint. "You love me, don't you?"
"Of course!" The words tore from her like a prayer. "More than anything in the world!"
_I love you. My boy. My beloved Ryder._
Kinder continued speaking—endearments, promises, desperate reassurances—until at some point, there was no answer.
Not even a sob.
Perhaps the crying had been drowned out by the rain?
"Ryder? My boy?"
His breathing, so recently uneven and ragged, had finally calmed. Quieted. *Stilled.*
Kinder stood motionless, staring down at her son. The light in her eyes dimmed, flickering like a candle in a draft. The boy had fallen into a deep sleep—his body limp, his pupils wide and unseeing beneath half-closed lids.
Gently, she ran her fingers over his eyelids, closing them fully. The skin beneath her touch was cool. The fever seemed to have completely subsided.
She carefully brushed away the traces of his tears, then wrapped him tightly in his blanket to keep him warm.
"He just fell asleep...?"
Her fingers trembled. The sight of the motionless child made her head spin, the room tilting dangerously. Kinder wanted to scream, to collapse into weeping right then and there, but her sense of reality had abandoned her entirely. She couldn't even cry.
_No. What reality? It's just a nightmare. A disgusting nightmare._
**_Slap._**
Kinder struck herself across the cheek. So hard that copper bloomed on her tongue.
"Why does it hurt?"
It was strange. The dream was so vivid. Ryder was simply sleeping and would soon wake up. He *would*.
Beyond the frozen woman, the thunderstorm raged on—rain lashing the windows like fists demanding entry, lightning splitting the black sky.
Finally, the end had come to her very door.
Ryder breathed his last in the midst of the rains, when the sun had vanished from the sky.
---
"God... didn't my child deserve pity?"
Her whisper was swallowed by thunder.
_Isn't that why you hid behind the rain clouds until the day of his death? Until the very end of Ryder's life, the Sun God turned his back on him._
Kinder alternated between stroking the child—refusing, *refusing* to accept what was happening—and bursting into tears as she gazed upon his lifeless body. Then, without warning, empty, meaningless laughter would spill from her lips, hollow and terrible.
_Yes._
Instead of calling upon a God who didn't hear, she needed to find someone else. Since the divine had rejected her, she would seek another being entirely.
And she knew exactly who to turn to.
"I need to find Lady Rohanson."
*Evangeline Rohanson.*
Yes. That white demon had said if she asked for a wish, she could resurrect the child. True, in exchange, she would have to give up someone's life...
But would her own be enough?
"If my life is needed, I will give it without hesitation. But what if the life of *another* is required?"
There was almost no time to think. Hadn't Kinder already made a wrong choice—one she now so bitterly regretted? When the white demon first proposed, she should have accepted without hesitation.
Kinder wiped the distorted grimace from her face and donned a mask of calm.
_Yes. There's supposed to be a reception at the palace today._
Hadn't she promised to be Lady Rohanson's chaperone? So it wouldn't seem strange to visit the lady now. There was still time before the Crown Prince's reception. She should meet Lady Evangeline early and request her assistance.
Since she was the chaperone, surely the lady could spare a little—just a *little*—of her time?
---
"Is there anyone outside?"
"Yes, madam."
Her voice emerged broken, ragged. The door opened almost silently, and a maid entered carrying a basin of water and a fresh towel. She had apparently been wringing out wet compresses. The hem of her robe still bore dark traces of rain, as if she'd recently braved the torrential downpour herself.
"Ryder's fever finally went down."
The lie came with unexpected ease. After all, Ryder would surely rise again—which meant rumors of his death couldn't be allowed to spread through the house. Her name would be dragged through the mud as it was. They would treat her like a monster, just as they once treated Lady Rohanson.
"Really?" The maid's face brightened with relief. "What a blessing."
She glanced toward the young master. His face truly looked calm, just as the mistress had described, and he appeared to be in deep, peaceful sleep. Despite the frantic weather, her endless trips for fresh compresses hadn't been in vain. It seemed almost miraculous.
"Where's the nanny?" Kinder's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here? I don't believe I've seen you before."
"Ah, my name is Weather, madam. I've been in this house for four years now, but I've always worked in the laundry. It's no wonder you don't recognize me."
"I apologize. I thought you were new."
Hearing the apology, Weather waved her hands in embarrassment. How often would an aristocrat apologize to a simple laundress?
"Oh, what are you saying, madam! Please, think nothing of it. The nanny stepped out for just a moment. She said she was going to prepare the rooms for the young gentleman who would be arriving soon."
"The young master?" Kinder's voice dropped, cold and sharp as a blade. "The one who'll be arriving soon... Is that what the nanny calls him? Not by his first name—not 'Diaz'—but specifically '*young master*'?"
"Well... yes. Yes, madam."
A cold wave of anger rose inside Kinder, cutting through her exhaustion like ice through still water. Weather visibly trembled, realizing too late that she had said something she shouldn't have.
The "young master" the nanny referred to wasn't Ryder at all, but *Diaz*—the Marquis's brother. Kinder knew the nanny had looked after both brothers since childhood. If she'd raised them with her own hands, wasn't it natural that she still called them by the same titles, without distinction?
_Natural. Perhaps._
"I see." Kinder's voice was deceptively soft. "While my child lay dying of illness, she went to see to *Diaz's* comfort."
Weather finally understood her mistake.
_Oh no. I gave away the nanny's location._
"Weather."
"Y-yes, madam!"
"I need to meet with Lady Rohanson briefly. I'm her chaperone, after all. So I'll have to step out."
Kinder gripped the maid's shoulders—hard. So hard that Weather nearly cried out in pain, but she didn't dare, merely squirming beneath those iron fingers.
"While I'm gone, you will watch over him. The baby is fast asleep, so don't wake him. Don't go near him under *any* circumstances. If anyone tries to enter this room or makes noise, inform them I will return shortly—and I will deal with them *myself*. Even if the nanny or Diaz comes. Even then. Let no one in."
"M-me?"
"If you succeed, I will fulfill any wish you have. *Please.*" Something raw and desperate flickered in Kinder's eyes. "I have no one else to rely on."
"Yes! I will try my very best!"
Weather clutched the wet towel tightly in her hands, nodding with solemn resolution. She squeezed so hard that water began to drip from the fabric, pooling on the floor.
---
Kinder, entrusting her beloved son to a maid she was seeing for the first time, left the room.
Only two hours remained until the reception. Every instinct screamed at her to rush to the Rohanson mansion immediately, but to appear normal—to avoid suspicion—she summoned the maids and ordered them to prepare her for departure.
"Just put my hair up. Prime my face thoroughly so the makeup doesn't wash off in the rain." She paused, something flickering behind her eyes. "Jewelry... bring my wedding box."
The maids bustled about, carrying out her orders. Compared to how she usually spent half a day preparing, the instructions were far too sparse. Her attire would appear more modest than usual.
One of the maids, remembering the impeccable marchioness of before, ventured hesitantly:
"Madam... wouldn't this be too modest for a reception at the palace?"
"I'm exhausted from looking after Ryder, so it's best to keep things simple." Kinder's voice held an edge sharp enough to cut. "Or would you prefer I dress up elaborately while my son lies ill?"
The usually gentle Marchioness was abrupt today. The maid mentally placed the blame on poor young Master Ryder and his endless illness. The other servants, wiser and less bold, quickly composed themselves and fell silent, casting disapproving glances at the one who had dared speak.
Kinder took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was steady—a woman who had made a firm decision and would not be swayed.
"Never mind. After all..."
She met her own gaze in the mirror. The face that stared back looked hollow, haunted—but determined.
"I'm not the main character today."