The moment he opened the door, he felt as though he had stepped into a refreshing forest. In the cool fragrance that flooded in like a surging tide, the sticky stench of blood seemed to vanish, if only for a moment.
Grace turned her head toward him, who had closed the door and stopped dead in his tracks. Veiled in the ruddy glow of the fireplace like a halo, she gazed at him with transparent green eyes steeped in warm light.
“Your Grace.”
A call so tender it made his fingertips tingle.
Walter leaned his back against the door and let out a laugh like a sigh.
Why were there so many things shaking him like this?
He roughly ran his hand down his face. Eliza’s appearance, like a fragment of a ruined kingdom, had dredged up memories of the past and stripped away his mask. Once removed, the mask did not easily return.
The soldiers who had guarded the Wall of Death had secretly called Walter the “Iron-Blooded Duke.” A fierce killing intent that spread unchecked, contrasted with his expressionless face. Wherever he passed, the corpses of demonic beasts piled like mountains, and their blood flowed like rivers.
After unleashing the madness within him like that, the Duke would lock himself in his room for days on end. Only then would he reappear with the mask of reason donned again, in a neat and tidy state.
Walter hated anyone coming near him until his reason returned. That was why, even now, he had intended to let no one into his room—not even Joseph—until tomorrow morning at the earliest.
“I’ve come because I have something to tell you.”
Grace calmly explained her business. Walter let out a barely audible sigh, then flung the door open by surprise.
“Y-Your Grace!”
The spy who had just been grabbed by the scruff of his neck by Joseph called out to him with a desperate face. He had thought the Duke would be less frightening than the brutish Joseph Rexton. But that flimsy hope shattered the instant a devil-like face peered through.
Walter slowly gripped the nape of the spy’s neck and spoke in a low voice.
“Keep your mouth shut and listen.”
“…….”
“Three in the right corridor, two in the left, and you make six.”
“!!”
“If I see you again, I’ll hang you by the neck.”
“Y-Your Gr—”
“I told you not to open your mouth, didn’t I?”
“Kk… kgh.”
Walter, who had been gripping the spy’s neck fiercely, felt the light behind him and loosened his hand.
Barely freed from Walter’s grip, the spy stumbled back with a white, terrified face, only to be blocked by Joseph’s legs.
“I’ll silence him for good this time.”
Walter returned to the room without answering and closed the door.
Grace stood ramrod straight, staring at him. Unlike him, who had become a monster in his struggle to survive, she remained utterly calm even at such a sight.
Her grape-green eyes were clear and bright. Those clear eyes touched something within him, strangely enough. Walter asked in a warped voice.
“How can you be so calm?”
Walter undid the shirt buttons choking his neck and approached her threateningly. Even so, Grace did not step back. Though he was completely different from the rational figure he had shown her until now, not the slightest agitation showed on her face.
Stopping barely a single step away, Walter trapped her in a gaze that looked ready to devour her.
“Tell me, Grace. How are you so calm?”
“Do I look calm?”
“…….”
“Or is it that you want to ask how I’ve endured without going mad all this time?”
When Walter fell silent, Grace opened her eyes wide, looking at him as if glaring, and whispered.
“You were alive.”
At Grace’s whisper, Walter unconsciously held his breath.
“There were as many moments when I wanted to set fire to the beds of those shaking Taylor as moments when I wanted to collapse. Even then. When I stood in the chapel for a moment with the nephew of the Empress who killed my parents. When I put the gift necklace they sent around my neck.”
No, ever since they had brought up Jack Saxen as a marriage prospect, the seething rage had felt as though it were melting her insides away.
“Even then, I endured by repeating those words.”
“…….”
“You are alive.”
A person whose face she had never properly seen, with whom she had never properly exchanged words.
Even so, Grace had always been able to feel his existence. Just knowing that someone was somewhere out there, hiding themselves and fighting desperately for the same goal as hers, was a comfort.
On the day she met him, she had to become a reliable person who could fight alongside him. She could not let herself be someone utterly useless, merely pitiful.
“You have been my beacon and my anchor for a very long time.”
“…….”
“I was able to endure because of you.”
Flames flickered in Grace’s eyes. If he knew with what heart she had waited for him all that long time, he would not be able to ask such a thing.
“So you endure too.”
As she delivered the words she had suppressed with all her might, his raging energy seemed to subside. Grace continued in a very low voice.
“What I want is not merely to kill my enemies. The empire’s cornerstone, Taylor of the Golden Wheat Fields. It is to reclaim that name, to inherit the great deeds of my ancestors. To do so, Your Grace, you must be a sovereign worthy of receiving my loyalty.”
Walter understood what Grace was trying to say.
*I have endured until now believing in you. Do not disappoint me.*
Their gazes met in the depths.
Grace slowly realized that black could be far more colorful than she had thought. The flames in his eyes had flared so high they looked ruddy, but gradually subsided until they felt as black and hard as obsidian.
Watching that change, for some reason she did not know—no, perhaps merely out of habit—a light laugh escaped her, like wind leaking through a crack. Then he widened his eyes as if incredulous, and similarly laughed.
“Ha.”
A sound close to a sigh escaped through his twisted lips.
In any case, since the mood had cleared, Grace pulled her shawl a little tighter and brought up the business that had brought her there.
“I believe the Count and Countess will soon take the bait—that is, me.”
Walter approached the fireplace, which looked as though its embers might die out, and threw in a log.
“Today the Countess and Flora Lewen came to see me. They were probing about your background, so I only told them your name.”
Grace told him about the insolent maids and how she had ordered Jessi to tail them. Just then, a small knock sounded, and Jessi’s voice came from beyond the door.
“Miss, it’s Jessi.”
Grace immediately sought Walter’s permission.
“May I tell her to come in?”
Instead of answering Grace, Walter spoke toward the door.
“Come in.”
A moment later, Jessi entered with an inexplicable unease written on her face. She looked back and forth between Grace and Walter, then opened her mouth.
“I barely managed to catch up and watch, but there were others watching the maids in secret, besides me.”
“And then?”
“When the maids passed through a deserted corridor, those people revealed themselves from behind and dragged them into a room.”
Grace’s and Walter’s eyes narrowed simultaneously.
“Dragged them into a room?”
“There were lookouts outside, so I couldn’t approach. I’m not certain, but……”
Jessi, who had trailed off with her head tilted, quickly added more words upon seeing Walter’s fierce gaze.
“They might be getting assaulted… I heard a very faint scream for just a moment.”
Silence descended over the three of them.
＊ ＊ ＊
Sometimes she had imagined it.
If she could see the future, or if not that, return to the past.
But imagination was only imagination; such things never happened. What she could do was set goals, gather information, predict, and act.
Grace returned to the room with the chandelier and sat at her desk out of habit.
“The maids who served me dinner are being confined and assaulted inside the castle……”
There was no doubt that Count and Countess Linko were scheming something. But with this level of information, it was difficult to predict.
Grace delved deeper. She examined the grand plan again, retraced the sequence, and predicted the timing. Then, when she suddenly raised her head, she saw her reflection in the mirror placed at the corner of the desk. As she gazed at it quietly, his words came to mind.
“She said I looked calm……?”
Grace slowly swept her hand across her face, then tried smiling. As if by habit, an elegant yet unreadable smile formed. Blinking quietly, Grace then tried to make a sad expression.
“…….”
But she simply could not make a sad face. She tried to make an angry one, but it was the same. For a long while she looked in the mirror trying various expressions, but all was in vain.
Only then did she realize that she had forgotten everything except a gentle, calm expression.
Grace stared at the mirror for a moment, then shook her head slightly and muttered.
“This is rather a good thing.”
Emotional agitation became a fatal weakness. She had to shake her opponent’s heart with a relaxed, calm face—there could be no stronger weapon than this. Nevertheless, the mirror reflecting her face, emotionless like a doll, was uncomfortable, so she turned it to the side.