You Are Gentle, But You Don’t Love Me - Chapter 19

“Your Grace! Where are you?”

The servants rushed toward the shore, their faces pale with worry. The white horse that had carried the Duke and Duchess away had returned alone, its saddle empty. Along with a large carriage, they had brought several burly attendants.

“My Lady! Where are you, Your Grace?”

All the while, Juliet remained at the far edge of the small beach, clutching Cassio’s unconscious body. She was paralyzed, unable to do anything.

There was nothing she could do—truly.

She wasn’t strong enough to lift Cassio, who was much larger and sturdier than she was, nor did she have the ability to diagnose his condition or miraculously heal him.

The only thing she could do was wait.

His feverish body might roll onto the hard rocks or onto the salt-stained sand. With trembling arms, she held onto him as tightly as she could, barely managing to keep him steady.

‘Please… anyone… just hurry.’

She had no idea how much time had passed. Time seemed to crawl painfully slow, yet the scenery before her remained cruelly beautiful.

She couldn’t even cry.

“There they are!”

“Your Grace, my God…!”

Juliet met the approaching figures with a frozen expression.

Several attendants carefully lifted Cassio’s limp body and carried him away. She followed them, but her legs were weak, making it impossible to keep up.

Only after watching the carriage carrying Cassio depart in haste, disappearing into the distance, did she finally collapse onto the sand.

By the time she regained awareness, the small carriage she rode had already passed through the castle gates.

The moment it stopped in front of the main estate, Juliet flung the door open and jumped out.

“My Lady! You’ll hurt yourself!”

“Please be careful—ah!”

The startled maids rushed to support her, but despite staggering, she started running.

She didn’t need to ask where to go.

Without hesitation, she ran up the stairs—one step, then another.

And finally—

“My Lady!”

Just before she could enter Cassio’s room, Juan blocked her way.

The aging physician, who had served House Cagliari for generations, still called her “My Lady” out of habit. But Juliet had no time to correct him or exchange pleasantries.

Gasping for breath, she immediately asked about Cassio’s condition.

“Hah… The Duke… is he—”

“He’s sleeping now. Please, try to calm yourself.”

“Calm myself? Hah… How can I?”

“He’s going to be fine. It’s nothing serious.”

“How can it not be serious? A man as strong as him suddenly collapsed!”

“It wasn’t entirely unexpected.”

“…What?”

Juliet, still struggling to catch her breath, snapped her head up.

Juan’s face was filled with nothing but guilt and sorrow. Just as she was about to question him further, he spoke first.

“The truth is… his injuries never fully healed.”

“…”

“But he refused proper treatment and overexerted himself. That’s why the fever spiked.”

Maybe it was because she had sprinted all the way here, but her head felt dizzy.

The maids, who had hurried after her, grabbed her arms to steady her. A brief commotion ensued before settling down, and Juliet slowly lifted her head again.

Juan continued explaining—about the nature of Cassio’s injuries, the treatment he should have received, and how much rest he truly needed.

She barely understood half of it.

But there was one thing she did grasp.

“He never fully recovered.”

“Yes.”

“And… he refused treatment.”

“…”

Juan lowered his head.

Juliet, however, wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her gaze was fixed on the door he had just stepped out of—Cassio’s bedroom.

It was as if she were glaring at the man sleeping inside.

Her light brown eyes gleamed with intensity.

“You should rest as well, My Lady,” Juan urged gently. “A hot bath would do you good. I’ll inform you the moment he wakes—”

Had he not said that, she might have stormed into the room right then.

But instead, Juliet glanced at the weary physician’s deeply troubled face.

She nodded weakly.

“…Fine.”

“…”

“I’ll do that.”

And with that, she turned away from Cassio’s door.

Supported by the maids, she walked slowly, leaving behind a trail of sand that had clung to the hem of her dress.

The tiny grains scattered across the floor, shimmering like salt crystals.

＊＊＊

By the time she finished bathing, the sun had set.

“My Lady… the Duke has awakened.”

Juliet, who had been sitting absentmindedly, bolted toward Cassio’s room the moment she heard the news—without hesitation, without thought.

The door was left slightly ajar.

Yet, she hesitated.

‘Should I go in?’

Her feet wouldn’t move.

‘Would it be alright… for me to enter?’

Instead of stepping forward, she began pacing the corridor.

The hem of her indoor gown rustled softly against her legs. Normally, she would have found the cool sensation pleasant, but now, it only irritated her.

“My Lady…”

“…”

“The Duke said… you may come in.”

“…Alright.”

Even after answering, Juliet remained rooted in place for a long while.

She pressed her lips together, her slippered feet shifting over the floor, faintly crunching against the remnants of sand still left behind.

‘Ah, really.’

She couldn’t endure it any longer.

Biting her lip, Juliet finally stepped inside.

The bitter, herbal scent of medicine immediately filled her lungs.

The scent of wildflowers drifted in gently through the open window, faintly mingling with the bitter aroma of medicine, though the latter was far more overpowering.

The candle flames, flickering in their holders, wavered in the breeze, casting deep, shifting shadows across the floor.

“…My Lady.”

Juliet’s gaze lingered on the restless shadows, which split apart and merged again, mirroring the dimness clouding her own eyes.

“No, I mean… Your Grace, the Duchess.”

“Juliet?”

Juan and Cassio called her name one after the other, but she neither lifted her head nor responded. She simply stood frozen in place.

“Please, speak in private.”

Even as Juan brushed past her, Juliet remained where she was, her eyes locked onto the wavering shadows at her feet.

Click.

The door, left ajar all this time, finally closed.

“Juliet.”

And at last—

“Come a little closer, won’t you?”

“…”

“I can’t get up. If I try, Juan will scold me terribly.”

“…How?”

If words had weight, Juliet’s would have plummeted to the floor, never reaching Cassio.

Fortunately or unfortunately, words had no weight. So no matter how heavy they felt, they still reached his ears.

“Juliet.”

“How can you act like… like nothing is wrong?”

Her head snapped up.

Cassio’s exhausted figure came into view, reclining against the headboard. Her gaze, trailing down, passed over his uncharacteristically startled expression before landing on his shoulder—tightly wrapped in thick bandages.

Juliet bit her lip hard and lowered her head again.

“…Hah.”

A deep sigh escaped through her clenched teeth.

“There must have been a reason you hid your injury.”

Her voice was quicker, lighter than before, as though reciting lines she had already prepared.

‘There must be a reason.’

From the moment she turned away at his door, she had been thinking.

‘There must be a reason why he refused treatment.’

For instance…

“As the hero of the Aragonese Navy, it would be troublesome if word of your injury spread.”

Once known as the libertine of the Aragonese court, Cassio was now hailed as the hero of the Aragonese Navy.

Aragon, the rising power of both land and sea, had long mastered the narrow straits and the smaller seas as if they were its own backyard. But that was not enough. It had begun driving out pirates, preparing to advance into the open ocean.

And at the forefront of this endeavor stood Cassio Bellanea—the de facto leader of the navy, personally established by the Aragonese royal family.

His injury was not just a personal matter; it could threaten the entire kingdom.

“So perhaps you wanted to appear as strong as possible.”

Of course, on the day he returned to Sardinia, Cassio had made no attempt to hide the bandages wrapped around his shoulder.

Instead, he had galloped into the city with unwavering confidence. After only a few days of rest, he moved as though nothing had happened. Not long after, he had even discarded the bandages, striding through the castle halls as if he were unscathed.

Hadn’t he even attended the banquet? With effortless ease, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Perhaps he needed that.

‘Yes, he was injured. But he recovered so quickly—it’s as if he was never hurt at all.’

A story like that, spreading among the people.

“But…”

Yet, he had hidden the truth from her.

Why?

He had been so kind. He had invited her for tea, suggested they return home together, asked her to join him for dinner.

Then why?

“Why…”

Juliet paused, carefully choosing her words.

‘I won’t say anything unnecessary.’

She had planned what to say in advance. He was still bedridden—she wouldn’t take up too much of his time.

‘I’ll just…’

She had only meant to tell him he didn’t have to do that anymore. That there was no need for him to push himself. That he should focus on getting better.

“Hhic…”

She had sworn she wouldn’t ruin this moment.

“Juliet?”

But resentment kept welling up.

“Are you crying? Juliet, look at me. Hmm? Were you that frightened?”

It wasn’t him, who had concealed his pain, that she resented.

It was herself—her own failure to notice.

“It’s nothing, really. I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

“How can you say it’s nothing?!”

Juliet choked on a sob, her voice rising in protest.