WBWB | Chapter 42

Having a lover wasn’t considered a flaw, even if you were married; in fact, not having one was seen as a sign of lacking charm. Young noblemen flirted with me even when they had fiancées or wives. Of course, their fiancées and wives also had their own lovers.

It was a disillusioning sight, even if marriage was just a contract between families. I kept a tight rein on my emotions, refusing to succumb to temptation. And until now, no one had been able to loosen those tightly held reins. 

No one.

But what was this? This sudden nausea?

It was just the unexpected encounter with my grandfather’s book that had unsettled me. I tried to convince myself, taking deep breaths. 

I placed the book on the desk and opened it, trying to compose myself, my grandfather’s handwriting scattered throughout its pages. Was it coincidence or fate that the first fable I saw was titled Madness Leading Blind Love?

In the time when love was not blind, love and madness played and quarreled together.

At the end of a quarrel, madness, enraged, stabbed love’s eyes, and love became blind. Love could not take a single step without a cane, and nothing could compensate for the harm done except restoring its sight.

Love cried out, clutching its eyes, appealing to the gods for help.

The other gods, understanding the situation, ordered madness to become love’s lost eyes. From that time on, madness became love’s servant, its guide.

There, next to the fable, was a conversation I had had with my grandfather.

Grandfather, what does it mean that madness guides love?

You’ll understand when you’re older.

I was nine years old when I first read this book, and I couldn’t understand this fable, no matter how many times I read it. The love I knew back then was for my family. My love was neither blind nor anywhere near madness.

But what about now? 

A chill ran down my spine as I read the fable I had long forgotten because I felt like I finally understood its meaning. Naturally. Intuitively.

Love, regardless of its object, comes with madness. 

Could it be… that I was falling in love? 

Because of a single book he had given me?

‘That’s impossible.’

A premonition of unease washed over me, and I shook my head, closing the book. I no longer felt like reading and went to bed early.

But even after extinguishing the lamp and lying in bed with my eyes closed, sleep wouldn’t come.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

My heart continued to race.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. If only it had been just that one night. For three nights in a row, someone’s face kept appearing in my mind as soon as I closed my eyes, preventing me from sleeping, despite my exhaustion.

During those sleepless nights, I thought about his eyes. Those cold yet beautiful eyes, like jewels. Those shining eyes. Why hadn’t I noticed their beauty before?

‘If I had known, I would have been more careful.’

Even with my eyes closed, his face wouldn’t disappear. Not just his eyes, but everything about him came to mind: his hair, his face, his strong jawline, his broad shoulders, even his large hands that had covered mine. 

I had never been conscious of these things before, but now that I was, I couldn’t get them out of my head. I felt like I was going crazy. Or perhaps I already was.

‘What is wrong with me?’

Meanwhile, Friday was approaching.

I both anticipated and dreaded it, wanting to escape from a strange sense of unease. I didn’t know if I wanted to see him or not. 

During the day, I swung between anxiety and calmness, unable to control my emotions. My heart was like the weather here,sunny one moment, then a blizzard the next, just like the unpredictable sky of Skadi. I couldn’t understand or control my own feelings.

‘Me? Suddenly falling for him? That’s impossible.’

I tried to deny it.

‘Could it be… that the first man I’ve ever fallen in love with is Duke Skadi?’

If someone had told me this on the day I arrived, I wouldn’t have believed it. Back then, he had seemed like a monster from a folktale. How could I possibly fall in love with him?

And then Friday arrived. 

It was an ordinary day, like any other. The only thing that had changed was my heart.

As dinner time drew closer, I felt increasingly breathless and restless. I tried on and discarded several dresses, none of them feeling right. I styled and restyled my hair, putting it up, then taking it down again.

It was all futile, of course. Had he ever been swayed by anyone in his life?

‘No, wait… what am I even thinking? What do I hope to gain by trying to impress him?’

My heart wavered, even though he wasn’t even trying to sway me. Even though he didn’t even know I was flustered.

As I fussed, a storm raged outside. The bare branches of the trees bent and swayed, some of them breaking under the force of the wind.

In the end, I chose the first dress I had tried on. Exhausted just from getting dressed, I decided to let things be. Would he even notice or remember what I was wearing? The thought made me laugh wryly.

‘He wouldn’t.’

I must have been momentarily swayed by his kindness. I couldn’t possibly have fallen in love. I gathered my composure, determined not to waver, and entered the dining hall. But the moment I saw him, sitting there as usual, my heart lurched. 

And I realized.

‘Ah.’

I was consumed by madness.

I sat down, unable to meet his gaze.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he commented during the meal.

“Oh, yes.”

“And you’re not eating much… Doesn’t it suit your taste?”

“Not at all! The food is… as always, delicious. I just don’t feel very well today.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t my body that felt unwell, but my heart. I couldn’t taste the food that night. He noticed my strange behavior and asked, and my voice trembled as I hastily offered an excuse. He expressed concern and said he would send me some warm tea after dinner. His kindness made my heart ache.

Why was he so kind to me? 

I already knew the answer. Because I was Lady Ana’s tutor. Because I was difficult to replace, and Lady Ana liked me. The obvious conclusion pained me.

His kindness held no deeper meaning. But then what was this turbulent emotion within me? It was beyond my comprehension.

He was like a winter wind that had suddenly entered my lungs, making me ache and shiver. Like a cold.

That night, drinking the tea meant to soothe my body, I thought,

‘I have to hide it.’

Logically, there was only one thing I could do. Treat this as an illness and pray for it to pass naturally.

After realizing I was ill, I tried to distract myself. I spent more time with Brulee and avoided the library. During our dinners, I spoke as little as possible, avoiding his gaze, and whenever I thought of him, I sat at my desk, lit the lamp, and wrote letters.

But even while writing, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I would be writing about my well-being, and a groan of pain would escape my lips. I was tormented by the urge to confess my feelings in my letters to my brother.

‘What is wrong with me?’

That I had fallen in love with someone I shouldn’t have, here, of all places. That I was nurturing a hopeless, unrequited love.

But I couldn’t write about it. Like someone unable to confess their true feelings even in their diary, I kept my emotions hidden, suffering in silence, hoping for a cure.

* * *

As I wrestled with my fever, the long winter passed, and spring arrived.

A warm, gentle rain, unlike any before, fell upon the frozen land, softening it, and soon everything that had been frozen solid began to thaw. 

The wind was still chilly, but when the sun shone, it was warm enough to go outside without a coat. The lake thawed, and I could see the deer drinking water instead of eating snow.