The old man, who had been laughing so hard it seemed he might pass out, only managed to calm down long after the moment had passed. Still clutching his aching belly, he rummaged through a pile of junk until he pulled something out.
“Take this.”
“What is it?”
He handed Ione a plain ring, devoid of any gem or ornamentation.
“That’ll do.”
His words were difficult to understand.
But asking again wasn’t an option.
Before Ione could fully grasp what was happening, Penelope yanked her arm urgently.
“Quick, put it on!”
The desperation in Penelope’s voice was so intense, it felt like she might stop breathing at any moment. Startled, Ione slipped the ring onto her finger without thinking.
The ring, which looked too small, instantly resized itself to fit her perfectly—almost as if it had a will of its own.
“A resizing ring? That’s... interesting.”
A sudden gust of icy wind stung her cheek, and as she instinctively looked up, her eyes met Penelope’s.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming?”
“…Huh?”
Ione was standing outside the shop.
What just happened?
She had been inside with Penelope, marveling at shelves packed with ingredients for a witch’s cauldron. Had she been dreaming?
The place they entered now looked like a normal magic shop. Wands were neatly arranged in rows, and everything looked just like she had imagined a typical magic store would.
It all seemed
too
textbook, enough to make her suspicious—was
this
the dream instead?
But even after Penelope casually bought a bracelet, a pouch of mana stones, and a few other things, Ione still didn’t wake up.
“Um, but wasn’t the shop owner different earlier?”
She whispered the question after Penelope paid for her purchases. Penelope blinked, surprised.
“What owner?”
“The one who gave me the ring.”
“Your Highness, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There was no trace of mischief in Penelope’s wide purple eyes. Ione’s heart sank as she lifted her hand, showing the ring.
“This ring. He told me to take it.”
“Do you want me to buy you a ring?”
“What?”
“You’re holding up your hand like that—aren’t you asking me to buy you one?”
Ione’s mind went blank at Penelope’s words.
She can’t see it?
No one could see the ring.
Worse still, the first shop they’d gone into—the one with the old man—Penelope didn’t remember it. No matter how many times Ione asked, she denied it. Eventually, she even forgot Ione had ever brought it up.
It was maddening.
No one recognized the ring.
And it wouldn’t come off.
Something was wrong.
More than anything else, Ione just felt
heavy
.
It could’ve been the aftereffect of teleporting—sure. But this was different. Since receiving the ring, her whole body felt subtly weighed down.
“Ugh… even lifting my feet is hard.”
“Did you walk a lot today?”
“Huh?”
Catherine, who was helping her prepare for bed, chuckled softly.
“After a long walk, your legs can feel like they’ve got weights tied to them. You said you went out earlier.”
“I didn’t walk
that
much. Maybe an hour or two?”
“In that dress? Then it’s no wonder you’re exhausted.”
Catherine fluffed up the blanket with quick, practiced pats.
“Come on, lie down. I’ll give you a little massage.”
“No, that’s okay…”
Was it because Catherine was kind? Or because Ione had come to feel comfortable with her?
Sometimes, Ione forgot to speak like a duchess. She used to flinch at those moments—but now, even when she slipped, it didn’t feel like such a big deal. Catherine, too, seemed unfazed.
Act like a noble lady. Act like a duchess.
There were times when it all felt too much.
Times when Ione felt like her own identity had disappeared, as if she were just playing a role in a story to survive.
On those days, something would rise in her chest—tight and suffocating—like she might actually stop breathing.
But…
“Don’t I seem strange to you?”
Catherine, who had been gently massaging her swollen calves, smiled softly.
“I actually think you seem more yourself like this.”
“But that’s not how a duchess should act.”
“I wouldn’t know what a ‘duchess’ is supposed to be like. But I do know pushing yourself too hard isn’t good.”
“Pushing myself…”
The words echoed.
Since coming here, there hadn’t been a single day she hadn’t pushed herself. That made the words all the more piercing.
“But still…”
“That depends on how you see it.”
“Even if your life’s on the line? Could you still be yourself?”
“That’s… a hard question.”
Catherine’s hands froze.
She stared into space, as if weighing her answer carefully. Then, with a resigned look, she spoke.
“I think I’d still choose to live as myself.”
“Even if it meant dying?”
“Is it really living… if you’re not?”
Her blue eyes gleamed with quiet conviction.
Ione stared at her, mesmerized, and slowly nodded.
“…You’re right.”
This was her life.
Why should she live it pretending to be someone else?
Memories of the past few days rushed in.
Since arriving here, she hadn’t lived once as herself.
She hadn’t been Ione or Choi Eunyoung, only a stranger playing a part.
But now, her scattered thoughts began to settle into place.
“Go ahead and rest,”
Catherine said softly, resuming her gentle massage.
As her aching legs were soothed, overwhelming drowsiness swept over her.
She wanted to tell Catherine she could go now.
She wasn’t sure if she managed to say it.
Because the next moment, all her senses vanished like she was sinking into a dream.
Don’t you really remember the place we went earlier?
Penelope whispered to herself, over and over.
Something didn’t add up.
She’d stayed close to the duchess all day—observing, calculating, charming her at every turn. Everything had been planned.
She’d brought the duchess to the shop just outside the castle gates to buy some pointless
Ethira
leaves. They were useless now. She’d even thrown in some outdated potion vials and a couple of low-grade mana stones.
The point was to
look
like they’d gone shopping. Like a typical outing. So that the duchess—so chained by formality—would begin to crave these little escapes. Small “rebellions” disguised as errands.
And one day, maybe that craving would become a journey.
And that journey would become an escape.
And they would go—together.
Penelope’s lips twisted.
“Did you really think you’d bury me alone, Seton?”
Ah, Seton.
You fool.
You think I'd give up after seeing something that radiant?
If I can’t see her anymore, I might as well die.
She didn’t want to just be close to the duchess. She wanted to devour her—own her completely.
Snap!
Penelope slapped herself across the head with a growl.
Her wavy violet hair fell messily over her eyes.
She hit herself again. And again.
She always remembered everything she saw and heard, perfectly. So how could there be a blank space in her memory?
“Don’t you remember that place?”
Gnawing on her thumbnail, Penelope smirked.
This was getting
interesting.
A duchess who shone like sunlight—
And a vanished memory.
“Seton… I think I might end up proposing to Her Grace at this rate.”
Groaning dramatically, Penelope flicked her fingers.
She had slipped something into the duchess’s hands earlier—a “gift,” a ring with a tiny, innocent-looking gem.
But that gem was a
listening stone
, linked to her own earring. She should’ve been able to hear everything the duchess said.
“Now then… what is my lady up to?”
She tapped her earring.
Nothing.
She tapped again.
Still nothing.
Not even a breath. Not the rustle of fabric. Just silence so thick it was frightening.
“…”
“…”
The sleeping woman looked like she might die at any moment.
Her face, pale with exhaustion, looked almost fragile.
Adrian stared at her for a long time, unmoving.
When he finally reached for the nape of her neck, it wasn’t with any real intention—just to check, as always, that she was still alive.
But right before his fingers touched her skin—
Shhhk.
A long, clear sound.
His eyes widened slightly.
Breathing.
For the first time, he heard her breathe.