"Estelle, Estelle Belonsa…"
Lennox, who had been staring at her for a long while, muttered in a low voice.
Estelle—she was still a strange woman.
Every time he looked at her, a single word coiled around in his mind like a snake.
Why.
Why had she become the only anomaly compared to his past life?
Why had she treated the servants who once opposed him with kindness?
Why had she risked her body to protect the child from monsters?
Even as she wore herself down, shattered, and broke apart—why…
Lennox quietly gazed down at Estelle's face and reached out his hand toward her.
It was to wipe away the beads of sweat gathered on her forehead.
But just before his hand touched, he froze in place.
Even though he had washed thoroughly as soon as they returned to the estate and was wearing gloves, he could not be certain it was all right to touch another person.
Whenever he came into contact with others, this unease always consumed him.
As Lennox lingered awkwardly, unable to withdraw his hand, a neat knock sounded.
Knock, knock—
"Your Grace."
It was Pippin.
"What is it?"
"Forgive my impertinence, but the Magic Tower has sent word that the mandrake potion has been completed."
Mandrake.
The medicine made from it was finally finished.
When no reply came from Lennox, Pippin hesitated before speaking again.
"Shall I deliver it to Lady Glesia as scheduled?"
Normally, it was such an obvious course of action that he wouldn't even have asked.
But with the Madam lying ill, he couldn't bring himself to hand it over so quickly.
"How much of the potion is there?"
Pippin's eyes widened.
He had been prepared for a scolding for asking something so needless, yet Lennox's response was entirely unexpected.
It seemed Pippin was not the only one concerned about the collapsed Estelle.
"Just enough for a single person to take."
"Didn't we gather three roots?"
"They say since it was concentrated, all that was harvested was used, and that's all the potion yielded."
At that level of concentration, its power would be enough to bring even the dead back to life.
"As you know, those three roots were all the naturally grown mandrake we had. Unless another is discovered, it will take several years for them to grow again."
"Several years…"
To him, it would pass in the blink of an eye, yet the physician had warned that she would not survive that long.
His deliberation was brief.
After a short silence, Lennox gave his order.
"Bring me the potion. Now."
"Yes, understood."
Pippin's lips itched to ask whether His Grace meant to use the potion on the Madam, but he quietly carried out the command instead. He had no authority to question.
Soon, a transparent vial, smaller than a palm, was placed in Lennox's hand.
A potion so priceless that some would trade their entire fortune for it shimmered like a diamond in myriad colors.
Lennox rolled it in his palm.
In truth, with the knowledge he carried from his past life, this was a potion he could have obtained even without Estelle's help.
There was no real need to share it with her.
And yet, the reason he hesitated to deliver it to his sister immediately was because the question—why—still lingered unanswered.
Why…
Why do I keep paying attention to you?
Even if she were to die before her time, a wife could always be found again.
She was nothing more than a replaceable part.
And yet, the reason his gaze kept drifting back to her was likely because of her actions—actions that made it seem as though she would never betray him.
"Even if one is doomed to die, people can't easily abandon their own lives.
And they cling to wealth as desperately as they cling to life."
But before matters concerning Duren, Estelle abandoned both life and wealth without hesitation.
What was a fatal weakness to others seemed to mean nothing to her.
Lennox had to admit it.
This woman was not like Vera Belonsa.
Until now, he had equated them simply because they both belonged to the Belonsa family.
But Estelle and Vera were fundamentally different.
Vera—that woman was nothing but a bundle of self-obsession. Enough to make one sick.
Lennox furrowed his brow.
"Uugh…"
At that moment, Estelle stirred slightly.
Thinking she had regained consciousness, Lennox froze—but soon realized it was merely a pained murmur uttered in her sleep.
"She must be having a bad dream."
The frown that had appeared when he thought of Vera faded as he looked at Estelle.
Though he didn't smile, his gaze toward her softened, becoming far more favorable.
"You don't even realize your life is in my hands…"
He had a strong intuition that even if she were to wake, she would never beg him for the potion.
If she were the type, she would have monopolized the mandrake from the very beginning—hoarding the knowledge instead of handing it over.
"Truly strange."
Why had she given him such a precious ingredient when she herself was the one who was sick?
Why?
He asked himself, but deep down Lennox already knew the answer.
Estelle was selfless.
She was someone who placed others above herself.
Unless it was simply her nature, there was no other explanation.
Realizing anew that she was a human being entirely opposite of himself, Lennox reached out toward her.
A moment ago, when she had stirred, a strand of hair had fallen to partly cover her face, and it bothered him.
But just before his hand touched her, he hesitated.
What am I doing?
Was he really about to touch another person?
No matter how much that strand of hair bothered him…
He had only just managed to stop himself earlier when he nearly wiped her sweat—yet here he was again?
Had he still not come to his senses?
Fixing his gaze on the innocent, sleeping Estelle, Lennox suddenly found his expression easing when she smacked her lips in her sleep like a baby.
"Honestly…"
At that moment, part of her hair slipped into her mouth as she moved.
His halted hand finally touched her soft pink hair.
As he brushed it back behind her ear, his fingertips grazed the curve of her earlobe.
In that instant, Lennox grew so tense he nearly forgot how to breathe.
Even though he wore gloves, he feared that the demonic energy clinging to him might harm her.
Haa… haa…
But even after his touch, Estelle's frail breaths continued evenly, undisturbed.
Only then did Lennox finally release the breath he had been holding.
"Estelle Winterlen."
Both the name and the surname were familiar, yet when spoken together they sounded strangely foreign.
If one asked whether it felt uncomfortable, the answer would be no.
Neither touching her, nor speaking her name aloud, felt unpleasant.
And at last, Lennox made his decision.
"Our contract must reach its proper end."
I despise wasting time.
Not a single moment of this rewound time should be squandered, which meant it had to be her—and no one else—who bore the name Winterlen safely for the next year.
Thus Lennox gave legitimacy to the act of unsealing the vial in his hand.
By all reason, he ought to have prioritized his own blood—his sister—over a woman from a hated house whom he had only recently come to know.
Yet he did not, because he already knew his sister would still be alive a year from now.
Supporting Estelle's neck with his left hand, he lifted her upper body at a slant.
Through his glove he could somehow feel her warmth—burning hot, as though scorched by fire.
Carefully, lest he let her slip, Lennox poured the potion into her mouth.
"Truly… strange."
If he allowed her to die early, he would inherit the vast fortune of House Belonsa.
That was, after all, the contract's condition.
It would bring him one step closer to the long-desired downfall of Belonsa.
And yet—he could not let her go.
The potion made from mandrake.
He thought that once she drank it, Estelle might open her eyes immediately.
But even after giving her the potion and watching for a long while, Estelle did not stir in the slightest.
It seemed the effects would not appear so dramatically at once.
"I'll have to call the physician later to confirm."
There was no way to predict when, how, or to what extent the medicine would take effect.
Rubbing the hand that had touched Estelle, Lennox rose to his feet.
It was an ingrained habit—the urge to wash himself.
Even though it had been proven that his touch carried no demonic taint, since Estelle had not died upon contact, the unease remained.
It was a kind of compulsion.
By the time Lennox returned from washing—
"Estelle?"
The bed was empty.
Estelle had vanished.
Only the faintly rumpled sheets proved that someone had been lying there.
Panic rising, Lennox bit at the end of his glove to rip it off in haste.
Then he pressed his bare hand to the spot where she had lain.
It was still warm.
Which meant she had only just left.
"What in the world…"
Where could a bedridden woman have gone?
Lennox had not been away for long.
Could it be that she had regained consciousness and simply wandered off somewhere in that short span?
No… if she had truly woken, she would have called for a servant first. She wouldn't have left so quietly.
Naturally, the likelihood leaned toward her disappearance being forced rather than by her own will.
Lennox yanked the bell cord in haste and gave his order to the servant.
"Find Estelle."
"Pardon? Do you mean the Madam? Isn't she resting here?"
The servant's confused gaze shifted to the empty bed.
His expression turned bewildered as well, clearly not understanding what had happened.
So she really had vanished without anyone knowing.
"She may have been abducted. Either way, she can't have gotten far—find her at once."
Lennox's voice carried an uncharacteristic urgency as he pressed the command.
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