Chapter 5
Every Sunday, she and her husband would sit side by side in the temple, listening to sermons that likened hell to molten brimstone.
An eternal fire that never went out, devouring sinners along with their sins.
The words—that sinners would burn forever in endless despair and agony—had always filled her with chilling terror.
But the temple had been wrong about everything.
When Ines opened her eyes, the first thing she felt was the soft bedding gently embracing her skin.
There was no acrid scent of brimstone, no scorching heat searing her flesh.
But I died… I definitely died…
Just moments ago, Ines had met a miserable end in the North Tower. She ran her hands over her body. She was drenched in cold sweat.
Then, a familiar voice drifted to her ears.
“My lady. You’re awake?”
My lady?
That was hardly a fitting term for someone who had been married for over three years.
Was she dreaming?
Ines blinked blankly, scanning her surroundings. In the next moment, she realized that this so-called “hell” looked far too familiar.
Beyond the gauzy curtains, the great tree outside the window had shed all its once-brilliant autumn leaves except for a few clinging desperately.
Its bare branches announced that a cold season had settled in.
“This is…”
Her lips parted.
It was her room—the one she had used back when she was still the Lady of the Greenwood family, long before she ever became the Duchess of Angel.
A sight that should have been impossible.
The Greenwood estate had been burned down the moment the rebellion was quashed. She had seen the ruins herself—nothing but a scorched plot of land.
Yet here was her room, whole and untouched.
And impossibilities did not end at the view outside the window.
“My lady. You slept quite late today.”
Ines instinctively turned at the approaching voice—then her eyes widened, trembling violently with shock.
“M-Marie?”
“Yes, my lady. Did you have a nice dream?”
Standing before her with a gentle smile was Marie, her personal maid. Even staring directly at the familiar face, Ines could only blink dumbly.
“Is it… really you, Marie?”
“Is there another Marie besides me?”
Marie let out a soft puff of laughter, as if she’d just heard something absurd. It was an all-too-familiar sound—Marie always laughed just like that.
It truly was Marie. The maid who had served her so faithfully.
“Marie… did you come to take revenge on me?”
Ines’s voice trembled pitifully.
Marie had been the maid she brought with her to the Angel ducal estate after her marriage.
She would sometimes carry letters back and forth between estates, until she was falsely accused of carrying military secrets—and executed.
If Marie’s spirit had appeared before her now, there could only be one reason.
“What? Revenge?” Marie’s brows knit in clear confusion.
There was something very wrong with her lady today.
“My lady, are you well?”
Marie quickly realized that Ines was anything but well.
Her nightgown clung to her skin, soaked through with sweat, and her face was pale as though she had just seen a ghost.
“My lady?”
Ines stammered in reply.
“You… you came to avenge your death… didn’t you?”
“Hell punishes sinners with many torments.”
She recalled that not all sermons had been limited to brimstone and fire. But Ines made no move to flee from Marie’s ghost.
Tears welled in her eyes.
How deeply must Marie have resented her? How bitterly must she have hated her to follow her even into hell?
If tormenting her could relieve Marie’s unjust grudge, Ines would gladly endure anything.
But Marie’s supposed spirit seemed wholly uninterested in such resolve.
“Goodness! Why are you sweating this much? And you’re saying all sorts of strange things. Did you have a nightmare? You’re absolutely soaked—if you stay like this, you’ll catch a cold.”
She rushed off to fetch a soft towel and began to gently wipe Ines’s skin. The warmth of Marie’s hands was unmistakably alive. Ines murmured in disbelief.
“You’re… alive?”
“Huh? What do you mean, my lady? Of course I’m alive.”
Marie jumped in alarm and met her gaze.
“Please, pull yourself together. Here—have some water.”
After finishing, Marie filled a glass of water and pressed it into Ines’s hands. Still stunned, Ines followed her movements with wide eyes.
Aside from her slightly younger appearance, this was clearly Marie.
Noticing Ines’s stare, Marie raised her voice playfully, deliberately lightening the mood.
“I’m alive! Really alive. So please stop looking at me like that. You’re making me feel like a ghost. You know how sturdy I am, my lady! You must still be rattled from what happened yesterday. You even had nightmares when you never do.”
Her attempt worked—Ines slowly regained a bit of composure.
“R-rattled? Why would I be?”
Ines had no idea what “yesterday” Marie referred to.
All she had was the vivid, agonizing memory of being tricked by the Empress, drinking poison, and losing her child.
A memory far too sharp and painful to be a dream.
While she was lost in thought, Marie spoke again.
“Well, it’s because of His Grace, Duke Angel, of course.”
The moment that name reached her ears, the glass slipped from Ines’s hands.
Crash.
Shards of glass exploded across the floor. Marie gasped and darted to her side.
“My lady! Are your hands alright? Did you cut yourself? Don’t get off the bed! You’ll step on the glass. I’ll clean it right away—please stay still.”
“W-wait, Marie.”
Ines seized her arm, asking urgently:
“What… what did you just say?”
Marie looked utterly baffled.
“Wh-what? What did I say?”
She genuinely had no idea what Ines was asking about.
Ines’s lips trembled. Even speaking his name felt like a sin.
“Just now… who did you mention?”
“Oh! His Grace, Duke Angel. My lady, is this because of him?”
Marie exhaled in relief when she realized the source of Ines’s panic.
“If you’re trembling this much over the engagement, what will you do at the wedding? And please stop saying strange things about dying. I’m not dying! I refuse to die until I see your wedding—at the very least!”
“E-eng… engagement?”
“Yes!”
Marie nodded enthusiastically.
“Just yesterday, the Count and His Grace agreed that your engagement will take place this spring.”
Ines’s face turned deathly pale.
“Marie?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“What… what year is it? In continental reckoning?”
Marie stared at her anxiously. Her lady was acting far from normal today.
Just last night, she had been overjoyed—near tears—because she would finally be engaged to the man she had secretly loved for so long, Cedric Angel.
But now? The moment his name was spoken, she reacted as if she’d heard a
death sentence.
“My lady… are you truly alright?”
“Marie! Tell me what year it is!”
Startled by Ines’s uncharacteristically sharp shout, Marie answered instantly:
“Y-Year 560 of the Continental Calendar!”
Year 560.
Ines asked again, voice trembling.
“Not… 565? It’s not 565?”
“Huh? 565? My lady—what kind of dream did you have?”
Ines shot to her feet.
Bare feet met scattered shards. Glass bit deep into her soft skin—of course it did.
“Kyaa! My lady!”
Marie shrieked as though she herself had stepped on the shards. But Ines couldn’t hear her—her ears rang, and even the pain in her feet didn’t register.
She stumbled toward the vanity mirror.
Each step drove more splinters into her flesh.
Marie scrambled for the medical box in panic, but Ines didn’t have the presence of mind to notice. She could only stare at the face in the mirror—consumed by shock.
“This… can’t be…”
It was truly, unmistakably impossible.
☆▪︎▪︎▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆▪︎▪︎☆
BY ANNA 💓
