Just then, the door opened with a cautious knock, and Lady Isaac entered.
Lady Isaac saw Eliza standing and realized this was reality, not a dream. Holding back tears that felt ready to burst, she approached Eliza.
"The knights have withdrawn, and I have prepared a place for Lady Taylor's maid to stay."
Eliza began to say something, then stopped, quietly watching her own maid.
"Is something the matter?"
To Lady Isaac's question, Eliza asked in a hoarse voice.
"Did you not always wear the pearl earrings and pearl necklace I gave you? How is it that you are so bare, without a single piece of jewelry?"
Lady Isaac's eyes turned red. Even as tears she could no longer contain streamed down her chin, she knelt before her mistress.
"Your Grace... When Your Grace wears nothing at all, how could I possibly wear pearl earrings and a necklace?"
Dry wrinkles formed on the nape of Eliza's neck. She forcibly swallowed down the burning heat surging within her. In doing so, drowsiness suddenly came over her again.
What use were jewels, honor, and family name? Of what use was it to command the world, when the world itself had vanished?
'Grandmother!'
Had her time stopped then so that she could at least remember that voice?
As the time that had barely been flowing began to slow once more, suddenly, piercing green eyes surfaced in her mind.
'If I become the daughter-in-law of the Saxons who killed my parents and live obediently, then is the Taylor honor preserved?'
Eliza read the fierce resistance contained in Grace's eyes. She saw the flames hidden so carefully and felt the resentment of one who had lost the world.
Grace's resentment roused Eliza's time, which had stopped and settled, back into motion.
'Did I not tell you? I will surely return alive and give it back, so do not die and wait.'
Walter's anger fiercely jerked and pushed Eliza's time forward.
Eliza looked out the window. Even now, the knights were searching here and there for Jessie.
"I merely rested my eyes for a moment, for I was weary."
Eliza, who had been silent for a long while, lost in thought, finally opened her mouth.
"Arwen."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Bring Grace Taylor's maid to me, and find out how Richmond Ducal Castle is faring."
Lady Isaac's heart pounded as if it would burst. It was the moment she had fervently longed for.
Eliza Richmond. The master of this castle was finally trying to wake from her slumber.
Lady Isaac wiped away her tears and answered in a firm voice.
"Understood!"
* * *
The next day at noon.
Marquis Linko flew into a fiery rage at Count Ruwen, who had returned empty-handed.
"I searched even Eliza Richmond's annex, and you're saying you couldn't find her?! Not a single rat could have left this castle. She is inside!!"
"I am sorry......"
Count Ruwen bowed his head and apologized several times, but Marquis Linko vented all of his anxiety-fueled anger. The Count said that the Duchess had risen and obstructed his search, and that he still suspected the annex, but this only fanned the Marquis's wrath further.
"Are you trying to use a ghost-ridden old woman as an excuse?!!"
"...I am sorry."
"Find her!!"
As Count Ruwen hurriedly left the room, the Marchioness, who had been watching, clicked her tongue lowly.
"The merits of that household are a plausible appearance and worthless ambition—exactly that much and no more."
The Marquis gulped down wine like water, then wiped his beard and lips with a napkin. Having steadied his panting breath, he changed the subject.
"Has the one called the Duke's lover opened her mouth?"
"......."
When the Marchioness gave no answer, the Marquis frowned and turned to look at her.
"You too, still?"
"Wait. This is different from finding a rat! That room slowly drives a person mad."
"Don't drive her mad slowly—just make her mad. This is war. We must win within a few days."
The Marquis was deeply uneasy about Walter's silence. At his impatience, the Marchioness shook her head. However, the Marquis's words had a point. A drawn-out war ultimately harmed both sides. It was a time that required swift and precise attacks.
The Marchioness approached the Marquis and whispered.
"Very well. I'll drive her mad before the day is out. But that alone is not enough. The person I told you to prepare—have you prepared him?"
"I found someone who meets the conditions exactly at dawn. Negotiations are underway now."
"You've worked hard. And listen. Do not needlessly touch the annex. It means do not disturb the ghost-ridden old woman's sleep."
The Marchioness moved to brush past him after those words but stopped and asked.
"By the way, where is our son? Isn't it about time he arrived? I would like to hold a welcome party, but that is difficult. We should at least prepare food."
"They say he will arrive in two days. It seems something happened at Lady Taylor's wedding."
"Never a calm moment. Indeed, the Taylors fell when the previous Duke and Duchess died. I hear Her Majesty the Queen and the capital nobles call that family 'a vault.' The current Duke and Duchess strut about without even knowing that."
The Marchioness muttered that this was what happened when vulgar people harbored excessive greed, and left the room.
She headed to the blue room filled with Richmond's treasures. The Marchioness took out a black box about two hand spans long from among many boxes, picked up a fur, and went straight underground.
The moment she entered the underground where the boundary between day and night vanished, the season turned to winter. As a chill that pierced to the bone swept in, the Marchioness wrapped the fur around herself.
However, this degree of cold was nothing compared to the solitary cell where Grace was imprisoned. That room was in the deepest part of Richmond. Not only was it cold, but until now, no one had walked out of that room in their right mind.
"Is she going to talk?"
The soldier guarding the entrance to the stairs shook his head.
"She doesn't even cry."
"How terrible."
The Marchioness refused the soldier's offer to guide her and went down the stairs alone. With each step, the season grew more harsh. A damp chill seemed to penetrate the fur and gnaw at her flesh.
Arriving before the black door, the Marchioness opened the small window above it. When she held a torch to the window, the dark interior became faintly visible. A woman in a cream-colored dress sat with her eyes closed, leaning against the wall.
The Marchioness's eyes narrowed. Usually, within a day they begged to be let out, crying and wailing, but that stubborn wench looked perfectly fine. She would have liked to conduct a cruel interrogation, but since the woman was someone the Duke had brought, she could not do anything that would leave scars.
"The maid you brought has been caught and is being interrogated. As for confessing that you are the Invisible Ones... well, I imagine an hour should be sufficient."
Grace did not move, as if she were asleep. Enraged by that appearance, the Marchioness screamed.
"You wretch!! It won't be long before your plan is exposed!! Do you know what happens when it is? You will receive a very cruel punishment. Not even the Duke will be able to protect you. This measly solitary cell is nothing."
The Marchioness pressed herself right against the door and whispered about how cruel that punishment would be.
"You would do better to confess. Pin all the crimes on that maid. Say you were threatened and had no choice. Then I shall at least spare your life."
Then Grace, who had not moved until then, slowly opened her eyes. The corners of the Marchioness's mouth shot upward.
Thinking that the Marchioness's eyes, curved long with joy, resembled the eyes of the devil spoken of in scripture, Grace slowly opened her mouth.
"I told you. Jessie and I cannot be the 'Invisible Ones.'"
"......."
The Marchioness's curved eyes gradually flattened, and anger welled up in them. She elegantly exhaled her suppressed breath, then, like a lie, smiled with her eyes curving again.
"Oh dear. It seems you haven't had enough time to think."
She opened the black box she had brought. Inside was one thick stick. The Marchioness lit the stick and wedged it into a crack in the stone near the door. Immediately, white smoke billowed up.
The Marchioness quickly covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, took her box, and just before closing the window, whispered in a cold voice.
"Now hell will unfold. Ponder again from within hell."
The door shut with a thud, and footsteps faded into the distance, sounding far more urgent than when she had descended. The faint light that had illuminated the room's interior vanished as well.
Cold air and smoke seeped in through the food slot beneath the door. Grace hurriedly rose from her spot and covered her mouth and nose with her skirt hem. But the smoke burrowed through the narrow gaps in the fabric and crept into her lungs.
She quickly stretched her hand out through the food slot to extinguish the reddish-glowing stick, but she could not reach it. The inside of the solitary cell, which had no vent, filled with smoke in moments.
She knew nothing about this smoke. Her breathing began to grow rough. In the terribly quiet underground, only the sound of her own breathing could be heard. As dizziness set in, Grace leaned her back against the wall and murmured cold words.
"Then endure, Grace Taylor."