The gardeners tending the grounds and the servants who happened to be passing nearby were too preoccupied with secretly stealing glances at the couple walking through the corridor to attend to anything else.
The presence of the young Duke who had returned after more than a decade was beyond compare, and the woman walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him was also someone who drew the eye no less. Currently in the inner castle, rumors were rampant that she was a commoner trying to climb the social ladder relying solely on her face, but seeing her in person, such a description simply did not suit her at all.
Just as the servants were falling into confusion, they were not the only ones watching her.
"Loosen up a little, won't you?"
Grace, who had been lost in thought for a moment, raised her head at the low voice. Jet-black eyes touched her before turning back toward the front.
"Aren't you supposed to be the woman loved by the Duke for now? To others, it looks like I saved you from a life-or-death crisis. Can you really be making such a cold expression?"
Grace blinked and followed his lead, looking back toward the front.
Cold, he says. He who spoke those words didn't suit words like love or tenderness in the slightest either. But he was still holding her hand. Her fingers, caught in his large, firm hand, were so absurdly small and slender compared to his, like a withered, dead branch.
A woman loved.
When she recalled the word she had erased from her life, a faded afterimage from long ago came with it. Her mother, whose features she could no longer properly remember. But the way she had always stood tenderly, overlapping with her father, remained in her mind like an old painting.
When she put strength into her captured fingers to pull her hand free, she felt him stop walking and look down at her.
Pretending not to notice his gaze, Grace took one step closer and looped her arm through his forearm.
"?!"
Just that one step broke down another's boundaries. A mirage-like scent wafted around her nose, and from their bodies touching as if overlapping, she could feel each other's warmth.
Grace slightly raised her head to look at him. In the handsome features shadowed by the backlight, somehow a sneer seemed to linger. He looked exasperated, and perhaps even bewildered.
Well, it's not like I'm doing this because I like him.
Grace deliberately smiled brightly and asked,
"Does this make me look like a woman overwhelmed with gratitude?"
"Ha."
Walter let out a hollow laugh, whether because he was dumbfounded or exasperated. It was a laugh swift and sharp as if drawn with a pen, much like his silhouette. Still, perhaps intending to play along somehow, he didn't let his caught arm droop slackly but folded it properly.
"The method is crude. Committing the deed in a secret room and trying to pin the crime through circumstances," he said.
It was a dry and cold voice, in stark contrast to him shortening his stride to match her steps.
"The maids said one thing consistently."
"What is it?"
"They didn't see."
A cold silence settled between the two. While each was lost in thought, they arrived at the room. Grace released the arm that had been holding him and stepped back two paces. The place that had been warmed by contact cooled rapidly.
"The Count and Countess will want to bring Your Grace down from Richmond Ducal Castle. But it is extremely difficult to bring down the Duke of Richmond from Richmond Ducal Castle. As you saw just now."
Watching Walter's eyes darken, Grace muttered lightly,
"So to bring down the Duke from Ducal Castle, well. Wouldn't it only be possible if they handed over the Duchess's room to a traitor?"
Without realizing it, Grace pulled her lips into a smile.
"All the better."
At those words, when Walter began to laugh, Grace simply blinked her eyes. He let out a dry laugh for quite some time before slowly running a hand down his face.
"I brought five hundred knights back alive from the Wall of Death. There was something I emphasized repeatedly back then."
"......."
"Don't treat your own life as worthless."
Grace simply blinked. Walter looked down at her with sharp eyes as if displeased, but eventually let out a small sigh and turned his body. After roughly taking off his jacket and throwing it onto a chair, he unfastened several shirt buttons and leaned crookedly against the window.
"I brought you here because I said you would become the sharpest sword to me. Don't think you'll be swallowed up like bait and disappear."
"You've forgotten what I told you. I said time and again that I would reclaim Taylor no matter what."
Walter suddenly wondered about the taste of the tobacco his subordinates had been smoking.
"That aside. How did your visit to the Grand Duchess go?"
"She did not rise."
Eliza Richmond, who displayed a dignity that even noblewomen decked out in full finery could not imitate, despite looking on the verge of death. She was not someone who was merely expendable, but a person absolutely necessary for what was to come.
"Two things are needed to wake her. One is a clear purpose that necessitates her rising, and the other is something that awakens emotions so dried up she would remain unmoved even if all her limbs were cut off...."
As she spoke, a flash of lightning streaked through her mind.
Walter leaning crookedly against the window was engraved on her retina. It was a posture that seemed to disregard all propriety, yet it came so naturally to him. He was one who set the standard, not one who followed it. Just as his ancestors had been.
There is a record in the volume on Emperors in the Deokan history book:
[The emperors of successive generations generally put into action by the next day what they had resolved upon the night before.]
They were extremely hasty in temperament,
[Applied high and strict standards to all matters,]
Difficult to please,
[And did not withhold frank words from anyone.]
They would openly show anger to anyone.
The one who had inherited that blood was right before her eyes.
"Why did you stop talking?"
"...I think Your Grace could do it."
Walter's eyes changed subtly.
"I would appreciate it if you could explain so I can understand."
"Setting the room on fire, for instance."
Grace's voice rose, a rare occurrence.
"I entered the bedroom without permission, just as you said, but that wasn't enough."
Walter's brow furrowed at the ominous premonition creeping over him. Joseph would have tucked his tail and run if he had seen this, but Grace was instead growing more certain of her answer.
"To rouse the Grand Duchess, anger and a definite purpose are needed. Both of those, I believe, can be provided not by me, but by Your Grace."
But Walter retorted coldly.
"I've checked for ten years. I went to see her as soon as I arrived."
"......."
"If you can't wake her, give up. If she were going to wake up now, she wouldn't have been dying in the first place."
Grace stared at Walter, who was speaking with unusual coldness, and opened her mouth.
"I've thought about it."
"About what."
"Why she is still alive, looking as though she wishes to die even today. She could have died at any time."
"......."
"Perhaps the Grand Duchess has been waiting for Your Grace."
Grace recalled the werewolf she had encountered in the mountains. From Walter, she felt the precarious stillness right before it pounced. Her heart thumped with instinctive fear. But just as she had then, she could not back down.
"Please come with me and meet the Grand Duchess."
Walter exhaled a deep, long breath slowly.
"I told you, I went yesterday."
"Is once enough? Go again."
"I can assure you it will only backfire."
"Backfire?"
He lacked the confidence to tell her to rise peacefully. Just imagining her dying appearance made him angry; without doubt, abusive words would come pouring out.
"She'll bolt the door shut."
"So doesn't that mean you have the confidence to anger her into getting up?"
"She'll get up to lock the door—don't you understand?!"
"Even if she intends to lock the door, she has to get up first. The fact that the Grand Duchess gets up at all is what matters. Because right now, she won't even try to speak with anyone."
It was at the moment Walter was about to argue back, looking into the green eyes that struck him as stubborn.
Knock, knock!
Behind Joseph, who appeared with the knock, a middle-aged gentleman with a flushed face was visible. The young man with a robust build wore an excessively bright expression, in contrast to the gentleman's demeanor.
"Your Grace, I have brought the castle's security officer as you commanded!"
Indeed, it was the swift movement befitting a limb of a quick-tempered master. Grace silently thanked Joseph for appearing at the right time and quickly concluded the conversation.
"Then I shall wait for you to finish your business, Your Grace."
Walter watched Grace, who gave a light bow and moved away, with an incredulous look. At the same time, the absurd thought crossed his mind that the blonde swaying at her waist was just like a fox's tail, and he pictured Grace and Eliza standing in one frame.
Grace Taylor with her blonde hair let down, and Eliza Richmond with her silver-white hair pinned up.
Would such a picture truly be possible?
Walter furrowed his brow and let out a short sigh.