Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: Feigning Illness
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"What is this woman?"
"The late Marquis Guinness's second wife. They say she was his eighth wife."
Though she was called a wife, she was no different from a slave.
In her previous life, Baron Gaspar had sold her off countless times, and her fifth marriage was nothing short of living hell.
Her fifth husband, Marquis Guinness, had confined her to a tiny room that was too small even to lie down in comfortably.
Chained up, all she could do was pray each day for a quick death—a hellish existence.
Then one day, that hell came to an end.
Marquis Guinness had been defeated and killed in a political struggle with the Northern Duke.
Juliet would never forget the moment the castle fell and the firmly shut door swung open.
It was truly the first time she had ever seen someone so radiant.
Even the red eyes unique to House Carlyle, which people called eerie, were a symbol of salvation to her.
"Your Highness, she's an ill-omened woman. Best to keep your distance."
The duke's retainers regarded her with suspicion.
It was understandable. After long years of imprisonment and abuse, her appearance was far from beautiful—it was utterly wretched.
Yet the duke, gazing down at her with an inscrutable look for a moment, gave the order.
"Take her to the castle."
With those words, she was sent to the Northern Duke's castle. There, she stayed as the duke's guest.
No one in the duke's castle beat her. She was treated like a human being.
So perhaps that was why she came to like him—it was akin to imprinting.
Like a baby dragon hatching from its egg and unconditionally adoring and following the first thing it sees, Juliet.
Even in her second life, falling for this face—was it because the imprint from that time lingered in her memories, or was etched into her soul?
In both her first and second lives, Juliet loved gazing at this sleeping man.
His mouth spat cold winds when he spoke, but at least the sleeping man didn't hurl sharp words or treat her cruelly.
The wee hours when everyone was asleep were Juliet's favorite time of day. During that time, he belonged entirely to her alone.
In those brief dawn hours, Juliet dreamed without sleeping.
Dreams she could have with her eyes open.
'Still, he hasn't cast me out yet, so maybe he likes me a little.'
'The maids who brushed my hair said so. You're the first lady the duke has kept by his side even after the seasons changed.'
Such words filled Juliet with excitement.
They gave her a thread of hope. She desperately tried not to fall out of his favor.
There had been a time when she believed that if she kept this up, one day he would show her a sliver of genuine affection.
It was fine if he never smiled at her, fine if he wasn't kind. After all, he was born cold and indifferent to others by nature.
But dawn was short, and Juliet's dreams were short too. Soon enough, Juliet learned the truth.
In truth, he wasn't indifferently impartial to everyone. His affection and attention were reserved solely for one special person.
The look in his eyes toward Dahlia was worlds apart from the one he gave her, who was little better than a freeloader.
*
Lost in those thoughts, Juliet snapped out of her brief reverie.
The man with his smooth forehead and arrogantly high nose bridge was still a sight worth admiring.
His firm chest and abdomen peeked through the open front of his robe, every glimpse like a sculptor's masterpiece.
With his eyes closed, Lennox looked his age.
Juliet cautiously reached out a hand.
'Not even thirty yet, and he's always frowning like that....'
She wanted to press her fingertips into the furrow between his brows.
"......!"
But she was stopped before she could fully extend her hand. Her wrist was seized by the man without even opening his eyes.
In a tone no different from usual, as if he hadn't been asleep at all, he asked leisurely,
"Enjoyed the view?"
"......Lennox."
The man rose with a light sigh. Without even looking at her, he pulled Juliet over to the bed opposite and sat her down.
Even in that short moment being led to the bed, Juliet checked for any sign of discomfort in his movements.
Yet contrary to the rumors, his gait was smooth, like that of a sleek predatory beast.
Feeling a twinge of doubt, she perched on one side of the bed.
"I heard you were very ill...."
"What, did you think I'd take to my bed over something like that?"
Lennox, lounging in the armchair opposite with his arms crossed, smirked indifferently.
His eyes were half-lidded, as if too lazy to open them fully or still groggy from sleep.
It was just like his usual speech and demeanor.
Juliet scanned him suspiciously but found nothing different from the norm.
"Then why...."
The guards standing watch outside the door, the duke's servants all on edge—what about the rumors he was on death's door?
He grinned.
"I had something I wanted to test."
"What?"
"Who rushes over the moment they hear I'm sick."
"......?"
In an instant, Lennox rose and approached abruptly.
Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her down onto the soft bed in a flash.
Her hair, pinned up with hairpins, came loose from the impact. The pearl-adorned hairpin fell somewhere onto the bed.
The whole sequence happened fluidly in a heartbeat.
Straddling the fallen Juliet, he whispered,
"You played doctor with the wolf cub just fine."
Juliet, meeting his half-open red eyes, was momentarily dumbfounded.
Played doctor?
With Juliet looking baffled before him, Lennox took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips.
"Where should we start? Ah, should I hurt my eye first?"
Only then did Juliet realize what he meant by "testing." He was referring to the incident at the Lucerne banquet hall when Roy was injured.
"Your Highness."
Juliet sighed, pushed him away, and rose from the bed.
"I've confirmed you're fine, so I'll be going."
"Weren't you here to nurse me because I'm sick? Is this how you treat a patient in pain?"
"That only counts if you're actually sick."
Juliet passed him coldly.
Bang.
The sound of Juliet leaving the bedroom and walking down the hall echoed through the mansion.
He kept his eyes closed in that dark room, holding the same position until the sound of carriage wheels outside faded away.
"Ha."
"Yes."
His loyal subordinate, waiting right outside the door, responded.
"I told you not to let her in."
"......My apologies."
Only then did Lennox sweep back his hair with a longer sigh.
In that short time, his forehead was slick with cold sweat.
"Did Juliet notice?"
"No."
Hearing that, Lennox finally slumped into the armchair, sinking deep into it.
"......Damn it."
Hardin watched impassively as the duke's hand trembled faintly while picking up the glass on the side table.
"Can't do that twice, that's for sure."
Lennox spat through gritted teeth.
He looked fine on the outside, but his internal organs were rarely in good shape.
Just like when Juliet had suddenly vomited blood and collapsed on the bridge in Lucerne.
It was only to be expected. The sacred barrier inflicted a reflexive curse on anyone who forcibly broke it.
And he had shattered all ninety-seven remaining barriers. In other words, ninety-seven reflexive curses had rebounded onto him.
The sacred magic dealt fatal blows to his internal organs. The fact that the damage wasn't visible made it all the more insidious.
The pain was at least bearable.
'This much is nothing.'
As a boy of thirteen or so rolling in the battlefield, he had survived even with a hole in his gut.
But the loss of his once-perfect vision was harder to endure.
The ninety-seven curses varied in duration and type, so he had no idea how long the blindness would last.
In that short time, cold sweat dripped down his chin.
Compared to Juliet's curse—which knocked her out for a week and then let her wake—it was lucky.
"You know what happens if Juliet finds out?"
"Yes."
She would surely blame herself.
"Make sure not even a whisper reaches her ears."
"......Understood."