Chapter 93

Odelliana had once wondered if curses truly existed. The thought had crossed her mind long ago, though when she first learned the full truth—that she had been destined to die as a sacrifice to the heart—she had been too stunned to truly grasp its weight. But she was no stranger to miracles or the unexplainable. After all, she had defied death itself and been sent back into the past. If such a thing were possible, then surely a curse of beasts could exist somewhere in this world as well.

The Duke, she recalled, had chosen Odette with decisive practicality when told that while limbs could not be exchanged, internal organs could. A flaw hidden beneath the surface was always preferable to one that drew the eye. It had been, in every sense, a logical decision.

Rosan, however, continued his tale without pause, even as pity flickered in his gaze toward Blair.

“If Lady Odette lives, Lady Odelliana must die. And if Lady Odelliana lives, then Lady Odette dies. In the end, the Gypsy shaman’s prophecy proved true. Two irreconcilable existences, born on the same day, from the same womb.”

To think that she and Lady Odette were bound by an even crueler fate than in her previous life—it was almost laughable. Not mere irony, but a cosmic jest, that two sisters would be born together, destined for tragedy from the first breath.

Even so, their fates, though intertwined, had never been equal. They lived as light and shadow, distinct and opposed. One life glittered in brilliance and delight; the other festered in blindness and sorrow.

“I was originally assigned to watch over Lady Odelliana,” Rosan confessed quietly.

“My wife became her nursemaid. But… to raise a child knowing she was doomed to misery—it was unbearable. The guilt grew heavier each day. Once, I even considered ending it myself, before she could suffer further. That’s how terrible those days were.”

Blair could not move. Shock anchored him to the floor, his tears falling soundlessly as though his heart were unraveling.

Rosan, on the other hand, seemed lighter than he had in decades. After so long, he had finally unburdened the secret that had rotted in his chest. The man who had borne that weight for years had now passed it on—whether she wished it or not—to Blair.

Unable to bear his anguish, Odelliana turned away. Watching him tremble, drained of all vitality, tore her apart inside.

“You… knew all along, didn’t you?” Rosan asked gently. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s why I’m here. I ran away—from the Duke, from all of it. I came here to fight this damnable fate somehow.”

Though this second life had begun without her consent and carried an even deeper misery than the first, she struggled on—because she had returned from death itself. The fact that she lived and breathed, even in another’s borrowed body, was proof enough that she must not waste it.

Perhaps, she thought, it’s precisely because this isn’t my body that I’m so desperate to live.

Odelliana, burdened with a fate far crueller than Lelusha’s, had endured too much. She pitied the woman she had been, and for that very reason, she longed to grant her happiness now. It was, at the very least, a tribute to the life that had ended in despair. Having already failed once, she was determined that this second chance—however inexplicable—would be different.

How long she could remain in this vessel, where her true soul might wander—those were questions without answers. All she could do was endure this life as it was given.

“I will live,” she declared.

Rosan blinked. 

“I’ll live well. I’ll thrive, brilliantly, so that I may reclaim everything that should have been mine. I’ll fight tooth and nail to prove I’m no failure—to take back the joys I was denied, to repay the misery of my past with triumph.”

Rosan stared at her, as though entranced. The calm steadiness of her tone, the unwavering gleam in her eyes, the composure in her expression—they all burned with an inner fire. Small, frail, and seemingly insignificant, she nevertheless shone like a sun too fierce to behold.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked softly. “Your opponent… is a great northern lord, and your own family.”

“I am afraid,” she answered.

He looked at her sharply.

“But I still want to live, even if I’m afraid.”

She limped toward Blair, whose tear-streaked face lifted weakly to meet hers.

“A life that’s thrown away once is enough,” she said. “So… I’ll fight with everything I have.”

“Even if it means standing against my family,” she whispered.

Her words were quiet but final, and Blair’s eyes widened. Odelliana helped him to his feet and straightened the mess of his clothes with careful hands.

“I’ll be going now.”

That was all.

No comfort, no complaint—just a simple farewell. Then she left.

Rosan watched Blair stare blankly at the door before murmuring, “She’s grown into a strong, courageous woman, hasn’t she?”

Blair did not answer.

“I don’t know what decision you’ll make, my lord,” Rosan continued, “but I hope you’ll stand by her. For Lady Odelliana… you may be the only ally she has left. And to have no one—not even one—would be too cruel.”

With that, Rosan rose to his feet. Blair still sat motionless, hollow.

“I hope you find the strength to endure this, my lord.”

Rosan gave him a final, sorrowful look before leaving, his thoughts lingering as he stepped away.

Which side will he choose?

***

Blair first remembered his other sister when he was seven.

That day, another child—so like Odette, yet not the same—lay feverish and flushed in one of the private chambers of the Duke’s manor. It was then he realized she was a twin. The small girl named Odelliana was tormented by a raging fever, surrounded by physicians and attendants who fussed over her without pause.

A frail body, a permanent limp—she was said to be too weak to live in the open, so she was raised in secrecy. Blair, too young to grasp the implications, had simply been delighted to have another sibling. Yet pity shadowed that joy, for the girl seemed so terribly alone.

“Lady Odelliana’s existence must never be made known to the outside world, young master,” the servants had warned him when he tried to tell his friends about her. That evening, their father summoned all his children and delivered a sermon so cold it chilled the room.

“That girl is not one of us. Your mother and I are merely fulfilling our duty, nothing more. You are not to treat her as family. She is a stain upon this house.”

Hermann had despised her from the start, disgusted by what he called her defect and the shame it brought upon their name.

“Can’t we at least play with her?” Odette had asked innocently. “It might be fun.”

To her, having another girl her age was a simple delight, nothing more.

“She must be lonely,” Blair had murmured, unable to stop thinking of the child isolated in some hidden wing of the estate. Even then, compassion came easily to him; he had always been too kind, too softhearted. He loved animals, pitied the weak, and could not stand to see anything suffer. Naturally, his sympathy extended to this frail sister.

“Hello, Odelliana. I’m Blair—your brother.”

“…Brother?”

“Yes. You’re my sister.”

It had been that simple.

That summer, Odelliana stayed at the manor while her illness lingered. As her fever refused to break, she needed constant attention. When at last autumn came and her health steadied, she returned to the Hirschberg forest. Blair had snuck off to visit her many times, earning scoldings and punishments from his parents, yet he never stopped.

Each time she returned to the manor, frail and quiet, he took it as proof that his parents still cared for her. Despite his father’s cruel words, surely some love remained, he thought—why else summon her home for care?

But now he knew better.

“All of that,” he whispered, his voice breaking, “wasn’t love. It was management. They were tending their sacrifice.”

The realization struck like a blow. His stomach churned, and he staggered, retching violently. Nothing came up—his stomach was empty—but he kept gagging as if to expel the horror itself.

When the spasms passed, he slumped against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. His vision blurred with unshed tears as grief, fury, disgust, pity, and self-loathing tangled in his chest until he could no longer separate them.

Yet through the chaos, one truth burned clear.

He knew what he had to do.

Forcing his trembling body upright, he stumbled out of the library and made his way through the corridors until he reached Odelliana’s chamber. Without knocking, he pushed the door open.

Inside, Odelliana and Malena were packing. Both froze, startled, but Blair ignored them. He walked straight to Odelliana and pulled her into his arms. Malena hesitated only a moment before quietly slipping out, closing the door behind her.

“Odelliana,” he murmured.

“Mm?”

“I’ll protect you.”

The answer had always been waiting in his heart. He would protect her from the family’s cruelty—from the rot that infected their bloodline. It was the only decision that made sense.

He loved both his sisters, but to sacrifice one for the other—to take one’s life as offering—was madness. He could not, would not, accept it. Even the curse itself, he could not fully believe in.

“If I live, Odette dies,” Odelliana said softly. “Are you all right with that?”

“I don’t believe in curses,” he replied. “But even if that shaman’s words were true, it changes nothing. You’ve lived all your life carrying the mark of that curse on your leg. Then Odette should bear her share of it too.”

“I refuse to accept this,” he said, his voice hardening. “If it were me, I’d find a way for everyone to live. I’d fight for it. I can’t understand the choices our parents made—and I won’t support them. It’s wrong. And if something’s wrong, it must be set right.”

Her shoulders trembled at his words.

Of course, she thought, that’s just like you.

Her vision blurred. She pressed her face into his shoulder, letting the tears soak silently into his shirt. All her lingering doubts, her fears about him, melted away. What remained was only faith—warm, aching faith and the quiet joy of belonging.

My family. My brother.

In her past life, she had never known what it was to be loved without condition. She had never been protected, never been cherished. As an orphan cast adrift in a merciless world, she had never been allowed the comfort of family.

Now, at last, she was held by the only family she could ever truly claim.

And his arms were warm—warm enough to make her weep.