Chapter 9

After much hassle—mostly thanks to October’s constant spacing out and forgetting the direction to the Duke’s mansion—she and Gloria finally arrived. October practically skipped through the massive gates, a dreamy look plastered across her face, her hands clasped together as if she were holding something precious.

As they entered the grand foyer, the heavy oak doors booming shut behind them, Elina appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in training gear. Sweat dripped from her forehead down her jaw, her cheeks flushed from exertion.

October barely noticed, twirling in place like a giddy child.

"I am in love!" she announced loudly, throwing her arms wide open.

Elina, wiping sweat from her brow, gave her a bewildered look.

"With who?" she asked bluntly, her voice carrying that familiar edge of suspicion.

October, practically glowing, clutched her hands to her chest. "With a man! His name is Baldwin!" she exclaimed, her voice high and delighted.

"Baldwin?" Elina repeated, one eyebrow arching skeptically. "Are you sure this person actually exists? Sounds made up."

"He does exist," October insisted, spinning on her heel dramatically. "He's tall, he has the most gorgeous hair and the kindest eyes. Oh, and his voice—" she sighed theatrically, "—it's like velvet."

Elina watched her in silence for a moment, dripping sweat onto the marble floor, before muttering, "I'll believe it when I see it."

But October was already skipping away, her slippers tapping rhythmically against the polished floor.

"I have to tell Scheuer!" she declared, disappearing around the corner.

\---

October set off in search of her elder sister, but the house was a labyrinth—and worse yet, the maids were not helpful.

When she approached the first group, standing near the kitchens, they simply bowed coldly and hurried away, whispering behind their hands. October sighed. No matter how much she tried, the staff’s disdain for her past behaviors was not something she could easily erase.

"Gloria," October said, turning pleading eyes on her companion, "please find Scheuer for me?"

Gloria, loyal and efficient as always, simply nodded and strode away.

Minutes later, they found Scheuer in the Duke’s office, seated behind a heavy desk, meticulously reviewing a stack of thick documents. Her dark hair was neatly pinned back, her expression serious and stern.

October, too excited to contain herself, burst through the door without knocking.

"Sister! Good news!" she cried.

Startled, Scheuer dropped her pen, ink splattering across the page. She pressed a hand to her chest.

"October! Saints above, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" she scolded, standing to her feet. "How many times must I tell you to knock before entering a room?"

Unbothered, October practically bounced in place.

"Elder sister, I have finally found a man suitable to be my husband!" she announced, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Scheuer blinked, staring at her as if she had sprouted a second head. "Who? Who is he?" she asked suspiciously.

"His name is Baldwin!" October declared proudly.

Scheuer frowned, crossing her arms.

"Baldwin?" she repeated, voice dripping with skepticism.

"Yes!" October nodded eagerly. "Isn't it wonderful? He's perfect."

"And... his family name?" Scheuer asked, the corners of her mouth twitching as though she already expected the answer.

October froze for a half second, then gave a sheepish smile.

"I... couldn't get it."

"You’re hopeless," Scheuer groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

October, however, was far too smitten to be discouraged. She floated toward the door, putting on a deliberately dreamy expression.

"I am in love," she sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart before skipping out of the room.

Scheuer shook her head slowly, muttering to herself. "This girl is going to be the death of me."

\---

October danced down the hallways, ignoring the curious stares of passing servants. In her mind, she was already planning her future—her wedding gown, her escape from the Windsor mansion, her freedom from her inevitable tragic fate.

If I marry Baldwin, she thought fiercely, I can get away from this accursed fate. I won't die like before. I can survive.

She pressed her hands against her flushed cheeks, letting herself sink into the fantasy.

He will love me. He will protect me. He will take me far away from here.

But reality, as always, was quick to creep in.

Later that evening, at dinner, her declaration sparked new trouble.

The Windsor family gathered around the long oak table. Their father, Duke Theodore, sat at the head, his sharp eyes flicking from one daughter to another. Anna-Marie and May sat primly on the right, shooting October amused glances as she entered, still humming softly to herself.

"October," Theodore began sternly, "I hear you have... news."

"Yes, Father," October said, practically glowing under his intense gaze. "I intend to marry soon."

Theodore's fork paused halfway to his mouth.

"And who," he said slowly, "is the unfortunate man?"

"Baldwin!" she announced proudly.

A beat of stunned silence.

Then Anna-Marie snorted into her wine goblet.

"Baldwin? Is that his first name or his profession?" she said mockingly.

"Probably both," May added, smirking.

October's cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment.

"He is a real person!" she insisted hotly. "I met him today. He is wonderful. And I intend to make him mine."

"And does he intend to make you his?" May said under her breath, but loud enough for the table to hear.

Theodore simply sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"October, we will discuss this further when you bring this Baldwin to me. Until then, do not embarrass the family."

"Yes, Father," she said meekly, though inside she burned with determination.

She would find Baldwin. She would marry him. And she would escape her doom.

No one—not her sneering sisters, not the disdainful staff, not even her own fears—was going to stop her.

\---

That night, lying in bed, October clutched her pillow tightly to her chest, whispering into the darkness.

"Baldwin," she murmured dreamily, "you’re my ticket out of here... Please, be real."

She closed her eyes, envisioning his smiling face, the warm way he'd spoken to her that afternoon at the market. It was a brief meeting, a passing conversation about books at a small stall—but it was enough.

Enough to spark hope.

Enough to kindle a future.

Enough to fight fate itself.

And October, stubborn and full of reckless dreams, would chase that tiny flame all the way to freedom.

Or, at least, she would die trying.