The Face That Made Me Want to Vomit

Eleanor glanced at the man's face, confirmed who he was, and immediately looked away. Her hands, clutching her dress, trembled uncontrollably.

Of all the people I could have run into here…

Joshua was, like her, someone who had never enjoyed these social gatherings. He had always been hypersensitive to the whispers people traded behind his back. Eleanor could hardly believe she had crossed paths with him here, of all places.

And the moment we met again, I swore I would have my revenge. That I would kill him with my own two hands.

Now, face to face with that face so suddenly, her hands shook with fury. The sight of him wearing that oblivious, innocent expression made her want to sprint across the room and strike him with her bare fist.

But if she caused a scene here, she would be the only one who ended up looking like a madwoman.

Eleanor took a deep breath and barely managed to crush the anger down. At some point, the trembling in her hands had stopped as well.

Joshua was still staring at her. She was tucked into a dim corner, the kind of place barely visible from the brighter parts of the hall, and yet Eleanor knew instinctively that his eyes were fixed on her.

Unable to bear it a second longer, she rose from her seat. Then, slowly, she walked away from the hall. She could feel the sound of laughter around her thinning out, could feel the curious stares of the people around her, as if she were behaving strangely.

Don't run, her mind repeated endlessly, but her feet would not stop.

If I could just rake that soft, know-nothing face of his with my nails and pelt him with stones, maybe the fury would finally ease—but since I can't do that right now, I have no choice but to leave.

Eleanor ran without once looking back.

Joshua Hareis. The mere sight of his face made her stomach twist so violently that she felt she might retch on the spot.

"Who's that? You know her, my lord?"

A woman had bolted for the exit so quickly that her blonde hair, falling to her waist, went swirling behind her, dress clutched hasty in her hands. A hand tapped the shoulder of Joshua, who had been watching her retreating figure.

The man, who had been watching the woman disappear from the hall with an expressionless face, turned his head and casually brushed the hand off his shoulder.

Joshua answered indifferently.

"Yeah."

"You know her? Who is she?"

Joshua coldly pushed away Rukan's face, which had thrust itself close in naked curiosity, and shot him a look that said, you seriously don't recognize her?

Rukan blinked. Then he rolled his eyes, thinking hard.

"A lady I know? Who?"

"My fiancée."

"Ah. Your fiancée? Figured it was something like—wait, what?"

At the unexpected answer, both of Rukan's eyes went wide.

"Your fiancée? That lady?"

"Yep."

"The— the Grand Duke Prihoson's daughter?"

"Yep."

"Are you kidding me! I didn't even get a proper look at her face! I have to go see her properly this time!"

Rukan hurriedly chased after Eleanor's retreating figure, but she was nowhere to be seen. As he stomped his feet in disappointment, Joshua regarded him with a look of utter disdain.

Taking his eyes off Rukan, Joshua sank into quiet thought. Something about the way Eleanor had looked at him a moment ago had felt… off. And it wasn't just that.

Why would a woman who almost never sets foot outside her estate attend this ball, of all things?

But he decided it wasn't something he needed to know. He was still lost in mild curiosity when Rukan sighed heavily beside him, still lamenting his missed chance.

"Doesn't the Grand Duchess Prihoson rarely go out in public?"

"That's right."

"Then why would she come to a social gathering again today? Could it be… because of you? Did she find out you'd be attending?"

Even as he listened to Rukan's excited voice, Joshua's expression didn't change in the slightest.

"How would that woman know I was coming? It must be coincidence."

"Hmm. I suppose? Then again, she's a lady with no friends—how would she have heard anything?"

Joshua gave up thinking about Eleanor and turned his gaze back into the hall. People had gathered in their own little circles, chatting among those of like mind.

With cool eyes, he looked at the group gathered around Sebastian Raiwens. Joshua stared for a long moment at Helena, who stood at the center of that circle, laughing brightly at Sebastian's side—then he turned and walked away.

When she had heard those words, Eleanor had seen the sincere expression on Joshua's face and found herself nodding. The two of them had been superb partners long before they were ever husband and wife. Granting one more of his wishes hardly felt like a loss to her.

Besides, Joshua, newly crowned Emperor, had been keeping Eleanor's father, Grand Duke Prihoson, under careful watch. During the previous Emperor's reign, the power of the late Empress's maternal relatives had grown far too great.

And so Eleanor had readily agreed to let Helena—of the House of Demera, another family that had earned merit in Joshua's rise to the throne—become Empress. It seemed like living proof that the Grand Duchy of Prihoson coveted no power for itself.

Moreover, Duke Demera's maternal grandmother had been a princess of the imperial line, so there was no need to worry about the Empress's relatives overreaching. Joshua, Eleanor believed, would think of the imperial family's interests all the more if even a drop of imperial blood flowed in his consort's veins. And so Eleanor became Imperial Consort.

Replaying the face of a younger, cruder Joshua in her mind, Eleanor stumbled forward in a daze, one hand pressed over her mouth. The nausea refused to settle.

And the foolish girl I was back then thought there must be a reason, and obeyed your every word. I never grew close to Helena again!

She hadn't even noticed one of her shoes had slipped off; she had simply run, eyes fixed ahead. Something sharp must have cut her bare foot, because pain shot up with every step—but she couldn't stop.

And what was it that I got in return for all of that?

If she faced him again in this state, she was going to smash that smug face of his in. And even that might not quench the fury—she might very well kill him. And she could hardly return to the past only to land herself in prison for murder.

"Hah… hah…"

Only when her breath had climbed all the way to her throat and her legs would carry her no further did Eleanor finally stop. She bent at the waist, gulping down air, and only then did she regain enough presence of mind to look around.

The first thing that reached her was a fragrance. Flowers of every color stood straight and tall, swaying gently in the breeze—a beautiful sight. It seemed she had wandered into the flower garden of the Raiwens Grand Ducal Estate.

The garden, brimming with blossoms, gave her the strange illusion of standing in paradise. When did I walk all the way here?

"Ah…"

Standing still and staring blankly at the flowers, Eleanor suddenly let out a groan. At the stinging pain, she looked down to find her bare foot—she wasn't wearing shoes at all—cut and bleeding. She glanced back at the path she had just run down.

How did I run that far without even noticing my shoe had come off? Honestly.

With no other choice, she limped over and sat down on a nearby chair.

Bowing her head to examine the wound closely, she found a small shard of glass lodged between her big toe and the one beside it.

Fortunately, the shard didn't seem to have gone in deeply. She didn't need tweezers; she plucked it out lightly with her fingers. But the cut was larger than she'd expected, and blood welled up freely. Eleanor frowned and muttered under her breath.

"I'm bleeding."

"You certainly are. I can see it too, from where I'm standing."

"…!"

She had been blowing on the wound, trying to take just a little of the sting away, when the voice came from behind her. Startled out of her wits, Eleanor's body lurched sideways. She barely managed to right herself before tumbling off the chair, then swiftly swept the hem of her dress down to hide her bare feet.

Because only then did she recognize the owner of that voice. Her expression plummeted in an instant.

Joshua Hareis.

Eleanor steadied herself. Then, with a perfectly blank face, she turned her head. Joshua was standing a short distance away—not quite close. Their gazes collided in midair, and neither of them looked away first. Joshua flicked a brief glance at her feet, then spoke in a calm, measured tone.

"You ran out so abruptly that I worried. Are you all right? No—"

Joshua hesitated. Then, recalling the wound she was hiding, he continued.

"That was a foolish thing to say. You're bleeding like this. Shouldn't you have a physician look at it?"

Eleanor's face went ice-cold. You dare speak to me? But she let none of it show.

"I only stepped out because it felt stifling to stay in the hall any longer. So pay me no mind and go back inside. And a wound like this is nothing—kindly keep your concern to yourself, my lord."

"…"

Joshua, who had been on the verge of kneeling to inspect her wound, flinched at the tone that drew such a firm, unbreachable line between them.

It was true they had been betrothed since the age of ten—and true as well that neither had ever once seen the other as anything more than that. Both of them knew it. Joshua had long assumed that as long as Eleanor didn't expect from him the feelings he couldn't give, marrying her wouldn't be so bad.

That was why he had tolerated the pet name she used when they were alone. But this coldness—this was something else entirely.