* * *

Jerome, who had been silently watching me, sipped his wine and spoke in a hollow tone.

“Mass memory-erasing magic means even you would forget yourself. And as you know, I can’t erase my own memories.”

“……”

“You would forget yourself. The world would forget you. And I alone would remember everything. Forever. That’s the cruel magic you’re asking me for.”

The revelation struck me silent.

If even I forgot who I was, with no one else to remember me, Jerome would bear those memories alone.

As though resigning himself, Jerome gripped my shoulder tightly.

“Sorry, but I’ll never use such a deranged spell. As long as I’m alive, you’re staying by my side. Even if it’s a nightmare for you.”

His intense, possessive gray eyes bore into me.

It had been a long time since I’d seen Jerome wear that haunting expression.

I’d anticipated rejection, but now that I understood the consequences of memory-erasure magic, I knew I couldn’t ask for it.

Escaping my nightmare would mean condemning Jerome to his own.

I recalled the lines Jerome spoke in the original story as he lay dying:

“This memory will be your worst nightmare, Jeanne. But you can’t wake up. Live forever in the nightmare where I exist.”

Noticing my defeated expression, Jerome finally released his grip.

A chill ran through me as I imagined a lifetime of hiding my true self.

As if sensing my fear, Jerome spoke in a measured tone.

“Don’t worry. Once we’re married and move out, you won’t have to deal with my family. I’ll handle the issue of heirs.”

“That’s not the problem. I can’t live like this.”

Though I tried to sound unaffected, my fear was palpable.

The constant dread of being exposed and the despair of not living as my true self crushed me every night.

Clutching my head, I stumbled.

Jerome’s expression hardened as he watched my turmoil.

“You don’t love me anyway,” I whispered. “You’d forget about me soon enough.”

“……”

“Think it over. Seriously. You’d be better off meeting a real woman and getting married…”

“Stop.”

The sharp tone of Jerome’s voice cut through the air.

His sudden shift in mood made me clamp my mouth shut as though commanded.

When he reached out toward my face, I instinctively flinched.

‘Was… was he going to hit me?’

Instead, Jerome brushed something off my cheek with his index and middle fingers—probably a stray eyelash or something.

His tender gesture clashed completely with his stern tone, leaving me bewildered.

Just as I tried to avert my gaze out of embarrassment, he suddenly cupped my face.

“I’ll say it again: I’ll never use that magic. If you’re so determined to use it, go find another skilled sorcerer. Though even if you do, I’ll just kill them.”

“…”

“I’ll go meet your father. Wait here. I’ll take you home after the banquet.”

With that, Jerome walked past me without another glance.

It had been a long time since I’d seen him this openly angry—perhaps not since the incident with Carlisle.

Maybe this time, he’d finally had enough of me.

I leaned against the wall, my expression grim, and called over a passing servant to fill my glass.

When the servant poured only a small amount, I stopped him.

“All the way.”

“Pardon?”

“Fill it to the brim.”

The servant hesitated but eventually filled the glass to its edge.

I downed the strong wine in one gulp and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Ignoring the snickering nobles nearby, I turned my back on them and muttered under my breath.

“Nothing ever goes the way I want it to.”

The wine hit harder than usual, perhaps because of my sour mood.

Feeling the heat rush to my face, I stumbled my way to the terrace.

The cool night breeze was a relief against my flushed skin.

Leaning against the railing, I bowed my head, and a flood of despair that I’d been suppressing surged all at once.

‘If memory-erasing magic is out of the question, how much longer do I have to live like this? Forever? What about after Jeanne grows up? I won’t always look like this youthful boy…’

My stomach churned, possibly from the alcohol.

I covered my mouth, swallowing the nausea.

The fine clothes and jewelry I wore to play the role of a noblewoman suddenly felt suffocating, and I found myself looking down at the lake below.

I stared at it for a moment, then stepped up onto the railing.

My heart pounded furiously.

‘Rather than waiting for someone else to end it, maybe it’s better if I do it myself…’

In the original story, Jeanne was executed by guillotine after her secret was revealed.

She faced public humiliation and scorn before her death.

Wouldn’t it be better to quietly end things myself?

One foot hovered over the void, hesitating.

Finally, I sighed and stepped back down.

‘No… I can’t die like this. I promised to pull Jerome out of hell.’

Realizing what I’d almost done, I snapped back to my senses.

It must’ve been the alcohol clouding my judgment.

Just as I turned to climb down from the railing, a strong gust of wind blew my hair into my face.

In that instant, someone grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward.

“Ah—!”

Jerome caught me in his arms as he fell backward. His low voice rumbled close to my ear.

“So, this is what you wanted?”

The weight of his words made me flinch.

Even though it was brief, Jerome had clearly noticed my moment of surrender.

He pushed me aside and left the terrace without another word.

I watched his retreating figure, unable to call out, feeling nothing but self-loathing and shame.

✽ ✽ ✽

Crash!

The shattered glass tumbled across the floor, having hit the wall moments earlier.

Mia, trembling and breathless, stood amidst the mess, while Karen let out a weary sigh.

Ever since Jeanne had accused Revulin during the trial, strange rumors had circulated within the temple.

Witnesses claimed to have seen Revulin with Madam Quaintrell.

Given the fierce competition for the position of Saint, even minor scandals could prove fatal.

If it turned out that Revulin had indeed commissioned an assassination, his status would likely be revoked.

As a result, Revulin, who had once wielded near-absolute power within the temple, hadn’t left his office for days.

The sight of her father so diminished was a shock to Mia, and she directed all her anger at Jeanne.

Unable to watch any longer, Karen grabbed Mia’s arm, only to have her snarl in response.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Lady Mia, p-please calm down. Losing your temper won’t solve anything.”

“But that wench insulted my father first! How can I stay calm when his fall from grace will drag me down with him?”

Karen flinched at Mia’s sharp retort.

As the daughter of Archbishop Revulin, Mia had always gotten everything she wanted.

But some things couldn’t be bought—like the privileges reserved for those officially recognized as saints through miracles.

Mia bit her nails anxiously, cursing her misfortune.

Why did this have to happen just before her saintess trial?

“My father is a man of perfect integrity. The idea that he’d commission a murder is absurd. Meanwhile, Luke is doing nothing to fix this mess, and the rumors about my father just keep growing. If I fail the saintess trial because of this, it’s over for me.”

“…”

“I won’t let this slide. I’ll bury her in the social circles if I have to…”

Her muttered threats were cut short as she abruptly turned to Karen, whose eyes widened in fear.

Striding over, Mia grabbed Karen’s hand firmly.

“Come to think of it, Karen, you’re skilled with illusion magic, aren’t you? Didn’t you project an image of the sacred beast at the recent guild assembly?”

“Skilled? I-I’m not sure I’d call it that…”

“Oh, don’t be modest, Karen. Have you heard about the new member recruitment at Bellieu? I can get you in. But first, I need you to do me a favor.”

Karen, a talented illusionist born to a poor farming family, often found herself overlooked in noble circles.

Membership in an elite social club like Bellieu would change everything.

Overwhelmed by the opportunity, her face lit up.

“If you could do that for me, I’d be so grateful… but what exactly do you need me to do?”

“What else? Publicly humiliate her.”

“…”

“You just need to follow my instructions like you always do. Got it?”

Karen hesitated but eventually nodded, her movements stiff.

Mia smiled thinly and whispered to herself.

“Perfect. This time, I’ll bury her for good.”

* * *