"...Are you sleeping properly?"
The courtyard became silent.
Completely silent.
Not because Noah had said something shocking.
Not because he had raised his voice.
Not because he had accused me of anything.
No.
The problem was that he sounded genuinely worried.
About me.
Not himself.
Me.
The man had returned from a battlefield.
Poisoned.
Injured.
Half-dead.
And somehow the first thing he noticed was the fact that I looked tired.
What was wrong with him?
No.
What was wrong with me?
Because suddenly my eyes started burning.
Dangerously.
Very dangerously.
I immediately looked away.
Bad.
This was bad.
Very bad.
Because I wanted to cry.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Not in a way that would attract attention.
Just a little.
Just enough to release the fear that had been squeezing my chest for days.
But I couldn't.
Absolutely couldn't.
Because crying would be suspicious.
The original Alice would never cry because Noah was injured.
Never.
Not even if the Empire collapsed.
Certainly not in front of dozens of servants.
So I swallowed.
Hard.
Then swallowed again.
And forced a smile.
A terrible smile.
A truly awful smile.
"I'm fine."
Noah stared.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Why wasn't he saying anything?
Please stop staring.
The longer he stared, the harder it became to keep my expression under control.
The corners of his brows slowly drew together.
"You don't look fine."
My heart immediately betrayed me.
Because hearing that somehow made everything worse.
I quickly turned my face.
Unfortunately,
That only made it more obvious.
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
The head maid suddenly looked away.
The butler looked away too.
Several servants stared at the ground.
Why were they all acting weird?
Then realization hit.
Oh no.
They noticed.
They all noticed.
Noticed what?
I didn't know.
But they noticed something.
And that was enough to make me panic.
---
Meanwhile,
Noah was becoming increasingly confused.
From his perspective, this situation made no sense.
His wife had been waiting near the gates.
His wife looked exhausted.
His wife looked worried.
And now his wife appeared to be desperately trying not to cry.
None of those things matched the Alice he knew.
Not even slightly.
He glanced toward the Marquis.
The Marquis sighed.
Long.
Very long.
The sigh of a man who had completely given up understanding his daughter.
Noah understood that feeling.
Surprisingly well.
---
"Alice."
I froze.
My father rarely used that tone.
The dangerous tone.
The father tone.
The one that somehow made adults feel like guilty children.
"...Yes?"
"You should allow Sir Noah to rest."
I immediately nodded.
Too quickly.
Far too quickly.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Very good."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Why was everyone still staring?
Leave.
Please leave.
All of you.
Immediately.
Before I accidentally started crying and ruined everything.
---
The problem was that Noah didn't leave.
Instead,
He remained standing there.
Looking at me.
Again.
Why did everyone in this novel stare so much?
Was eye contact a national sport?
Finally Noah spoke.
"...I brought something."
"Huh?"
He reached into his coat.
Then pulled out a small pouch.
A leather pouch.
Worn.
Simple.
Ordinary.
I stared at it.
Then stared at him.
Then back at the pouch.
"...What is it?"
Noah hesitated.
Actually hesitated.
Then,
"Dried fruit."
"..."
"..."
"..."
What?
The great Sir Noah Alden.
Hero of the Northern Border.
Monster Slayer.
Knight Commander.
Had brought me dried fruit?
Why?
How?
When?
The entire courtyard became awkward.
Even the servants looked confused.
Noah looked mildly uncomfortable.
Which somehow made the situation ten times stranger.
"I remembered that you liked sweets."
My brain stopped.
The original Alice liked sweets?
Was that true?
I honestly didn't know.
The problem was that everyone else apparently did.
Because several servants immediately nodded.
One maid even whispered:
"That's true."
Traitor.
How did she know that?
Had she been keeping records?
---
Noah held out the pouch.
I stared.
My vision blurred again.
No.
No.
Not now.
Not here.
Please.
Not because of dried fruit.
Imagine explaining that.
Why are you crying?
Because a fictional man brought me snacks.
Ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous.
And yet...
The burning behind my eyes became worse.
Because the Noah in the novel always gave.
Always cared.
Always remembered.
And nobody ever returned the same kindness.
Not once.
Not until he died.
I hated that.
I had always hated that.
Maybe that was why this hurt so much.
Because for the first time,
He wasn't words on a page.
He was real.
Standing in front of me.
Looking tired.
Looking injured.
Holding a pouch of dried fruit.
And somehow worrying about me.
Instead of himself.
Like always.
---
"Alice?"
I snapped back to reality.
The entire courtyard was waiting.
Again.
Why was everyone always waiting?
I accepted the pouch.
Quickly.
Before anyone noticed my hands trembling.
"Thank you."
Noah nodded.
Then,
To everyone's surprise,
He looked relieved.
Actually relieved.
As though he had been worried I might reject it.
Wait.
Had he seriously been worried about that?
My chest hurt.
Again.
Everything hurt.
Why was existing so difficult?
---
That evening the mansion became unusually quiet.
Noah had been forced into bed rest.
Forced.
Because apparently the physicians threatened mutiny otherwise.
Good.
Someone needed to stop him.
The problem was—
I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Which was terrible.
Because every time I thought about him—
I wanted to cry again.
And every time I wanted to cry,
I remembered that the original Alice wouldn't.
Which meant I had to stop.
Immediately.
So naturally,
I failed.
Spectacularly.
---
At dinner, Noah wasn't present.
The physician had forbidden it.
My father sat at the head of the table.
Ace sat nearby.
Unfortunately.
The Duke observed me for several minutes.
Then...
"You seem troubled."
I nearly stabbed a potato.
"No."
"You do."
"No."
"You looked at the empty chair fourteen times."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Who counted that?
Who counts that?
What kind of person counts that?
Ace de Rubius.
That's who.
Psychopath.
---
The Marquis slowly rubbed his temples.
"You counted?"
"I was curious."
"Why?"
"You were also counting."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The Marquis looked offended.
"I was not."
"You counted eleven."
The Marquis immediately became silent.
Good heavens.
Both of them were terrifying.
No wonder Noah suffered.
He was surrounded by lunatics.
---
Several hours later,
I finally escaped.
Or attempted to.
The mansion was dark.
Most servants had gone to sleep.
The hallways were quiet.
Perfect.
Because I had a mission.
A completely reasonable mission.
A perfectly normal mission.
I wanted to check whether Noah was alive.
That's all.
Just checking.
Nothing suspicious.
Nothing emotional.
Nothing wife-like.
Absolutely nothing.
---
Five minutes later,
I stood outside Noah's room.
Like a criminal.
Wonderful.
I stared at the door.
The door stared back.
This was ridiculous.
Why was I nervous?
He was my husband.
Technically.
Legally.
Officially.
Yet somehow entering his room felt more terrifying than facing monsters.
---
Before I could decide what to do,
The door opened.
Immediately.
Without warning.
And Noah appeared.
Face to face.
At extremely close range.
I nearly died.
Again.
"AH!"
Noah blinked.
"..."
I blinked.
"..."
Neither of us moved.
Finally,
He spoke.
"...Why are you hiding outside my room?"
Caught.
Immediately caught.
Wonderful.
Fantastic.
Perfect.
I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
Unfortunately it refused.
So I forced another smile.
The worst one yet.
"I was walking."
"...Outside my room?"
"Yes."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Even Noah didn't believe that.
To be fair,
Neither did I.
---
For several seconds he simply looked at me.
Then unexpectedly,
His expression softened.
Only a little.
"You were worried."
Not a question.
A statement.
A terrifying statement.
Because he was right.
Very right.
And suddenly,
The tears I'd been holding back all day threatened to escape.
Again.
No.
No.
No.
Hold it together.
Hold it together.
For the love of everything,
Hold it together.
Because if I cried now,
Everything would become suspicious.
Everything.
And yet
The more I tried not to cry,
The harder it became.
My vision blurred.
My throat tightened.
And Noah's expression immediately changed.
Concern.
Pure concern.
The kind that made everything worse.
"Alice?"
I looked away.
Immediately.
"Don't."
"...What?"
"Don't look at me."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Poor choice of words.
Very poor choice of words.
Because now he looked even more worried.
---
Then...
For the first time since arriving in this world,
A terrifying realization struck me.
I wasn't trying to save Noah anymore because he was my favorite character.
I wasn't doing it because I knew the story.
I wasn't doing it because I felt guilty.
No.
Somewhere along the way,
Without noticing,
I had started caring about Noah himself.
And that frightened me far more than any poisoned arrow.
Because feelings were dangerous.
Especially in a story that was supposed to end in tragedy.
And standing there outside his room,
With tears threatening to fall,
And Noah quietly watching me,
I suddenly realized that the story was already changing.
Whether I wanted it to or not.
And I had no idea what would happen next.