Frey had been sickly since childhood. After Frey was born, everything in the House of Russell began to revolve around her. Even though Curtis sometimes resented his younger sister for the age gap, his heart would feel as if it were being squeezed whenever he saw her fever-flushed face.
That day was one of those days.
"Get out, Curtis."
"I just wanted to show you a seashell."
"Get out!"
Their mother, clutching her young daughter whose fever had peaked, pointed toward the door. Curtis, recoiling at the hostility in her eyes, opened the door and ran out of the villa as if fleeing.
The unfamiliar island they had come to for Frey’s recuperation was nothing but beaches no matter how far he walked. It was hard to find children his own age, and he couldn't communicate with the locals. His father would probably come looking for him after he wandered the beach for a while. He would say he was sorry and ask him to understand their mother.
Having experienced this situation time and again, Curtis could now recite his father’s words by heart.
"I’m sorry, Curtis. Your sister was born with a weak constitution. Please understand. You’re the older brother."
Frey was young. But he was already thirteen.
*Am I a useless person? Should I run away? Should I just hide somewhere? If I disappeared, would Mother regret it?*
As he walked along the beach that stretched along the island’s ridge, impulses boiled within him. Settling on this island entirely didn't seem like a bad idea. Half of it was forest, after all.
"Should I bring Greg along? If Greg were here, I wouldn't be lonely."
He was muttering to himself as he walked for a long time. Suddenly, he heard a splashing sound from far away. A young girl was drowning in the sea, frantically thrashing her arms.
Without a moment to think, his body moved first. Curtis dove straight into the sea. When he saw the girl losing consciousness amidst the dark blue waves, he felt as if his breath had stopped. With hair as red as the sun and mysterious purple eyes, she looked like a mermaid said to live in the sea.
*Could this be a trap?* The moment the thought crossed his mind, the girl reached out to Curtis. He grabbed her body and swam out with all his might. He had never acted so desperately before. Frey, his mother, his father—none of them were in his mind at that moment.
He performed CPR and chest compressions just as his father had taught him. After repeating it until he was exhausted, the girl, who had turned her head to the side, spat out seawater. Relief and ecstasy surged within him. He was not a useless person.
He had saved a life. Before the girl, who had barely survived, opened her eyes, Curtis wiped away the tears that had fallen. Then, he smiled brightly and spoke to her.
"My name is Curtis. What’s yours?"
"I am... Roxana. I am Roxana."
Roxana.
It was a fitting name. Curtis repeated the name to himself. The deeper he repeated it, the more it tickled the depths of his heart.
***
"My Lord."
As soon as he opened his eyes, the remnants of the dream vanished like waves washing over the sand. Curtis, running a hand through his disheveled hair, washed his face with the water Robert had brought.
"Where is Greg?"
"He has already finished preparing for the hunt."
"He overslept."
Curtis muttered as he rose from the plush bed.
"The... room you mentioned has been prepared as you requested."
Robert hesitated before asking cautiously.
"What should we call her now?"
"Call her Miss."
Not "Madam," nor "Lady Roxana," but "Miss." The implication was clear. He knew there was something between the two, but it seemed to have become firmly twisted. Robert’s expression darkened.
***
As Roxana’s quarters were moved from the room next to Frey’s to the inner chambers used by the Marchioness, many things changed simultaneously. The food she ate, the clothes she wore, and the treatment she received.
Even as the maids in the castle glanced at her with eyes full of jealousy and curiosity, Roxana felt no joy at all.
Alice and Kesi no longer spoke to her, and even when they crossed paths, they would only offer a stiff bow before hurrying past. Robert remained kind as always, but there was a wall between them, and only Frey welcomed the news with delight.
"What should I call you now? Roxana... sister?"
"You can just call me Roxana. Who am I to be anything else?"
"I can’t do that. You are my brother’s woman, after all. Perhaps you might even become the mistress of this castle."
Frey, shaking her head firmly, smiled brightly.
"I think I knew it would turn out like this."
"Pardon?"
"The way my brother treated you was unusual, to say the least. It was different from how he treated other women."
It seemed she mistook his contempt for interest. Roxana, shaking her head inwardly, replied quietly.
"I briefly caught the Lord’s eye, but I am a maid. Miss. The Marchioness will likely be a lady from a high-ranking family. So, you don’t have to treat me so well."
"My brother doesn't care much about status. So don’t jump to conclusions, Roxana. And there is something you don’t know."
"...Something I don't know?"
"You know that my brother found you and brought you here when you collapsed in the forest, right?"
"Yes."
Her memory ended there. Up to the point where he held her frozen body in his arms.
"My brother massaged your frozen arms and legs all night long. With the doctor. Even though the Princess Consort’s maid offered to do it, he refused."
"..."
"Do you think that’s possible with just a casual feeling?"
It was a story she was hearing for the first time. Roxana blinked slowly. Perhaps she might have been moved. If she hadn't known about the Mother Superior. She would have thought it was a simple whim or that he thought it was too early for her to die there. Because he had been preparing even greater suffering for her.
Thinking that Roxana’s silence was due to being moved, Frey smiled brightly and emphasized.
"And from now on, never call me 'Miss.' Just call me Frey. Speak comfortably, too."
"...I can't do that."
"You don't want to? Then I’ll call you 'Sister Roxana'."
Sister. It was a word she had wanted to hear someday, but hearing it now, it was a burdensome title. She did not deserve to be called that by Frey. Roxana, pursing and then relaxing her lips, finally nodded.
"Alright, Frey."
Just as Frey was jumping with joy at having achieved her goal, someone knocked on the door. When she gave permission to enter, Olivia stepped into the room.
"What is it?"
When her eyes met Roxana’s, Olivia hurriedly lowered her gaze. At the bitter reaction, Roxana looked out the window. Feeling a sense of unease, she stood up, but Olivia’s words pierced her eardrums.
"The Lord has returned from his hunt."
"Ah! I must go see him!"
Delighted, Frey rose from her seat.
"That is..."
Seeing her about to leave the room immediately, Olivia stopped her with a troubled expression.
"He said to attend only to Miss Roxana."
***
A bag dripping with blood was dumped from the horse’s back onto the ground. They were the wolves he had hunted. Curtis, who had dismounted with his feet in the stirrups, gestured to the standing Roxana as if calling a dog.
"Roxana."
Roxana, who had instinctively stepped back at the fishy smell of blood, felt her arm being grabbed. Since Curtis had left the castle to go hunting immediately after making her his unofficial mistress, this was the first time they had seen each other since she became his mistress. A taut tension and awkwardness hung between the two.
It was Curtis who broke the silence.
"You’ve grown bold since I last saw you. Now that your status has risen, you don't see anything anymore?"
He was growling, but it was the same tone as always. Briefly flustered by his attitude of acting as if nothing had happened, Roxana, who felt relieved in spite of herself, confessed honestly.
"The smell of blood is too strong."
"That’s why I called you. To see that face."
Curtis, who smiled slyly at her honest confession, retorted cheekily.
Roxana felt her strength drain away at that shamelessly confident face. She couldn't believe this situation, this atmosphere. They were already people who had spoken of revenge and hatred to each other. They had already crossed a river of no return, making it impossible to exchange such mundane banter. It was clear that the closer they got, the more they would end up a mess, pierced by each other’s thorns.
No one could be happy this way. With that realization, the tidal wave receded, and the storm calmed.
She could not be his mistress after all. The debt she owed him had to be repaid in a different way. Just as Roxana opened her mouth to speak, a cool scent approached, breaking her thoughts a step ahead.
"Don't think of other things when I am here."
With a low warning, hot breath suddenly clung to her earlobe. Roxana froze at the tingling sensation rising from her toes. Curtis, bowing his head, whispered.
"I’m telling you because I thought you’d be curious, but I’ve already sent a messenger to the Tanner’s Guild. They said they would gladly see me once. What happens after that is up to your cousin."
At the same time, Roxana heard the sound of shackles locking around her ankles. As Jonathan’s face flashed before her eyes, the courage that had barely ignited was extinguished as if doused with cold water.
If she said she would repay him in a different way, would he really nod? No. She had no choice.
"Roxana."
Curtis, lifting her chin with his index finger, made her look at him.
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