Chapter 26

It was a narrative Elena encountered for the first time, or perhaps one she struggled to recollect.

“Yes. Even without being imprinted, you can experience emotions for someone. However, marrying such a person and later becoming imprinted by someone else is said to be incredibly agonizing,” Cura explained.

“Is it not permissible to form a bond with an imprinted partner again?”

“It’s not that it’s forbidden, but rather challenging. To dissolve a marriage, one needs the High Priest’s approval, a daunting prospect for commoners. Some choose to abandon their original partners and elope with their imprinted ones, but if apprehended, severe consequences await. Pursuit squads are even dedicated to chasing such individuals. Nevertheless, nobles often opt to marry someone deemed suitable for the family rather than an imprinted partner.”

Elena directed her body toward Cura. Pain surged through her, and her expression involuntarily contorted.

Cura approached, assisting Elena to lie on her side and carefully covering her with sheets and fur up to her shoulders.

“What exactly is this imprinting?” Elena inquired as Cura settled by the bedside, leaning towards her.

“Are you curious?” Cura asked with a smile, causing the freckles on her nose to wrinkle, and she continued speaking. “I haven’t been imprinted yet, so I don’t know the details. I’ve only heard that when you meet your destined partner, it feels like your soul is being sucked into their eyes.”

“Soul sucked in?” Elena repeated.

“Yes. It’s a sensation that only those who have experienced it can comprehend.”

“How fascinating.”

“Yes. One more thing to tell you…” Cura paused, looking down at Elena, who tilted her head in curiosity. “As far as I know, you probably haven’t been imprinted yet.”

Elena, meeting Cura’s gaze, found herself unable to respond. Not a single word surfaced, and even a forced smile eluded her. Slowly, with a thought that occurred to her, she opened her mouth.

“You can know your destined partner as soon as you meet them, right?”

“I think so. Oh, but they say imprinting can also happen when you’re a baby. In those cases, it’s too early to remember, but later in adulthood, if you meet the person again, the moment of imprinting comes back to you.”

“Really.” As Elena responded, she felt her heart sink. Every time she looked at Kennard, thoughts of fluctuating emotions and the sensation of being drawn into his eyes overwhelmed her.

Could it be that it happened because we were imprinted? At that moment, Elena realized she was facing a presence she couldn’t dare to confront or scrutinize.

***

“Are you certain you’re up for moving around?” Cura hesitated, intertwining her fingers nervously.

“It’s fine, really. Look! I’m walking just fine.” Elena shifted her steps slowly, accompanied by a gentle smile. Despite the chill in the air, she wore a thick cloak over her velvet dress.

Suppressing the pain throbbing through her wounds, Elena made a conscious effort not to display any discomfort. She knew that acknowledging the pain would likely result in Cura or Leto insisting on her staying in bed for the day.

She understood their concern for her well-being, but the thought of remaining still, doing nothing, felt stifling – almost suffocating, as if she couldn’t catch her breath.

Even with Cura clapping her hands and Leto shaking his head, recommending a walk, Elena insisted on venturing out. 

“Then just take a leisurely stroll along the corridor,” suggested Cura.

“I want to go to the greenhouse.”

“No, you can’t. It’s already cold, and it’ll get even colder outside. Your wounds haven’t fully healed yet. It’s not advisable to wander around in the cold.”

“Alright.” Elena chuckled and nodded. If she pushed any further, she knew Cura might just pick her up and carry her back.

Walking through the corridor, a profound stillness enveloped them, with only the rhythmic echo of their footsteps breaking the silence. Torches lining both sides of the passage cast flickering shadows, illuminating tables adorned with vases of vibrant flowers and suspended paintings placed at regular intervals.

Elena meticulously examined each flower and painting as she moved at a measured pace. Even in her careful exploration, a sense of vitality coursed through her. It became apparent that a life of idleness and mere relaxation didn’t suit her temperament.

Despite the ache in my body, moving feels more comforting, Elena mused silently, reflecting on a recent conversation with Cura. I wonder who I will be imprinted on. Cura mentioned I haven’t been imprinted by anyone yet. Could it be that I’ve already met my destined partner?

The weight of her own thoughts caused Elena to sigh involuntarily. Cura, who had silently accompanied her, expressed concern as she reached out to support Elena.

“Are you feeling unwell? Should we go back?” 

“No, I’m not in pain. I just sighed,” Elena reassured her. 

“Is there something on your mind, then?” Cura pressed, sensing an unspoken burden.

“No,” Elena replied tersely, deflecting the inquiry with a dismissive shake of her head.

Expressing her thoughts to Cura seemed an impossible feat. How could she admit to harboring feelings for the Grand Duke? The mere idea of confessing such emotions felt audacious. How could she convey to Cura that the contemplation of the Grand Duke’s potential imprinting, whether it had already transpired, left her chest constricted with an indescribable tightness?

With a reassuring smile directed at Cura, who remained filled with concern, Elena redirected her focus to the next painting. However, the tranquility was disrupted by the distinct sound of approaching footsteps echoing from the end of the corridor.

Coming to a halt, Elena turned around, her attention drawn to two unfamiliar women making their way towards her. Among them, Elena particularly recognized a woman dressed in opulence—a realization that resonated with Cura’s previous mention of the young lady of the Duke of Blade.

This lady’s hair was intricately woven into various braids, adorned with a novel style of decoration and long ruby accessories. Her dress, featuring rich and voluminous lace layers covering her shoulders from just below her face, accentuated her ample chest and slender waist. Intricately embedded pearls adorned the dress from top to hem, where velvet, silk, and lace intersected. Even the seemingly simple cloak she wore on top bore a display of various jewels.

The woman accompanying her, adorned in an extravagant and costly dress, sported a more understated headpiece compared to the daughter of Duke Blade. As Elena gradually regained her mobility in this setting, memories flooded back of the luxurious dresses Kennard had sent her during her recovery.

The initial garments, as opulent as the headpiece worn by the woman beside her, exuded extravagance and radiance. However, considering her current circumstances, Elena found them impractical and refused to wear such ostentatious attire. Subsequent deliveries, resembling the attire of her present companion, were marginally less extravagant but still carried a hefty price tag. Even these, however, proved burdensome, leading to repeated refusals. It was only when she received a dress devoid of expensive jewelry or accessories, featuring a simple pattern, that she reluctantly accepted it. Even then, compliance was compelled by the unspoken ‘warning’ from Kennard, conveyed through Cura, leaving Elena with no choice but to wear the more understated attire.

The two women approached, coming to a stop nearby.

“I didn’t realize there were other noble ladies in this castle besides us.” 

Elena exchanged wary glances with Cura.

“I am Hazel, the daughter of Duke Blade. This is Carmen Menelph, the daughter of Count Menelph,” Hazel introduced herself, her soft voice abruptly cutting off at the end. When she gestured towards Carmen, the latter offered a slight nod in greeting to Elena.

“I’m Elena.”

“Your surname? Which family do you belong to?”

Surname… I don’t have one. In her present state, Kennard had only provided her with a first name, deeming a surname unnecessary. The lack of a surname had never been inconvenient.

As Elena prepared to answer Hazel’s inquiry, an uneasy feeling settled in her chest. Despite having committed no wrongdoing, her heart inexplicably sank.

Unable to conjure a non-existent surname, the response was already determined.

“What’s wrong? Is there any reason you cannot disclose your family name?” Hazel persisted, indicating that she wouldn’t relent without a clear answer.

“I am indebted to the Grand Duke due to certain circumstances, but I am not of noble birth. So, please remember my name only; I would appreciate it.” Elena swiftly bowed her head in greeting to both women.

“Not of noble birth?”

“That’s correct.”

As Hazel raised her head and scrutinized Elena, her lowered eyelids assessed Elena from top to bottom, accompanied by a peculiar twist of her gaze and the corners of her mouth. Carmen, too, tilted her chin up, openly examining Elena.

“Not a noble, yet dressed like this? Or are you a daughter of a wealthy man?” Hazel’s tone turned colder upon learning of Elena’s non-noble status. Although unspoken, it undeniably carried a condescending air, addressing Elena as someone of lower status.

Aware that her attire didn’t align with expected decorum, Elena diverted her gaze from Hazel and offered a slight bow of her head. She understood that attributing her clothing to Kennard could potentially escalate the situation.

Elena’s silence elicited a cold freeze on Hazel’s face. “Whatever the case may be, I am also a guest here, so I won’t say more,” Hazel declared, her tone holding a trace of disdain.

Once again, Elena chose not to respond. Her only resolution was to start borrowing clothes from Cura henceforth. Otherwise, every encounter with Hazel seemed poised to invite unnecessary trouble.

Carmen, sensing the tension, inclined her body towards Hazel, gently urging her. “Hazel, let’s stop here. The Grand Duke is waiting.”

For some inexplicable reason, Elena felt as if those words were directed at her. With a bitter smile, dismissing her own unfounded thoughts, she could do nothing but keep her head bowed.