Long ago, on a day when the wheat harvest was in full swing.
He saw Grace being slapped by Duchess Taylor. No one could stand against the Duchess, and Grace, who was nothing more than a young girl at the time, rose from her seat alone as if nothing had happened. And she was slapped again.
Eric had no choice but to hide and watch.
Then he secretly took some ice and ran to her. But by the time he reached Grace, the ice had melted, leaving only his clothes soaked.
Grace smiled at his wet clothes.
“Eric. I’m fine.”
That day, he resolved.
He would obtain overwhelming power. He would seize overwhelming power so that no one could treat her carelessly, and protect her.
And so that day, he cast aside his pride as a noble. Starting from the very bottom, he used every ounce of his strength to earn money and gather information.
Eric, who had reached out toward Grace without realizing it, flinched. A cheap fragrance brushed past the tip of his nose. His gaze turned to the back of his own hand. Along with a sensation as if insects were crawling over it, he recalled the noblewoman’s fingers that had slowly caressed the back of his hand.
He clenched his fist tightly and withdrew his hand. With a hand stained by such a vulgar scent, he could not even brush the hem of her sleeve.
“Hurry.”
Prompted by Jesse, who had sensed someone approaching, Eric knelt and whispered to Grace.
“You’ve done well, my lady.”
“…….”
“Please recover quickly. I will come again.”
Eric smiled brightly at the sleeping Grace. That smile, which the noblewoman who had rushed all the way to Richmond had ultimately failed to see, was an impertinence to Grace. Just as Eric rose from his seat before greater longing could take root and was about to leave the room.
The heavy presence that had been nagging at his nerves all the while suddenly drew close, and at the same time, the door opened. A man appeared as if draped in pitch-black darkness.
His breathing was unhurried, yet Eric knew he had run. The distinct heat of someone who had sprinted with all his strength pierced the cool air.
Before Eric could move, Ares passed by him. He seemed to find even the time it would take Eric to step aside too precious. Eric could not stop his own gaze from following Ares. His mountainous frame blocked Grace from view.
“The fever?”
The question, laced with impatience, clearly carried worry.
“It remains, but as she did not vomit this medicine, the fever will soon subside.”
He removed the gloves he was wearing and unhesitatingly reached his hand toward Grace’s forehead. But just before his hand touched her forehead, his movement stopped. Ares, having faltered in midair, soon withdrew his hand.
At that action, a chill ran down Eric’s spine.
Then, the sound of maids approaching grew close, and Eric reflexively turned his body. A low voice caught his steps as he was about to go straight outside.
“Go back the way you came. Good work.”
A surge of emotion welled up. Eric grabbed the doorknob to open it, then stopped and turned his head. As expected, Ares was looking directly at him. Eric glared back, meeting his gaze, and spat out the emotions he had been chewing over.
“There is no need to commend me. It is the purpose of my life.”
Then, turning his body fully toward him, he politely bowed his head.
“I know not how long it will be, but until the moment my lady remains under the name of Richmond. I leave her in your hands.”
It was not a greeting that truly meant “please take care of her,” but a desperate flailing born of anxiety.
Ares’s action churned in Eric’s mind as he left the ducal estate.
That man had run with all his might toward Grace. Having run so hard, he reached out his hand, then stopped. Surely because he was conscious of his soiled hands. Because those hands could not touch Grace, he had withdrawn them. Just as Eric himself had done.
Eric came to a sudden halt in the middle of the chaotic tumult.
“How dare he….”
Fury surged over his anxiety. The fact that Grace was bound with one who harbored such feelings under the name of “lovers” was unbearable. But the surging anxiety and fury gradually scattered and faded. Ironically, the very reason that had saddened Eric himself served to ease his rising anxiety.
Strength drained from his shoulders, which had been taut with tension. Eric slowly exhaled a long breath and ran his hand over his face.
Even if that man loved Grace, she would never give him her heart in the end.
Beneath Grace’s fragile exterior hid a will of steel. Her clear green gaze always sparkled toward Taylor. The millions of people living on that land, the innumerable golden wheat grains, the passing wind, and the waterways filled her completely.
She would surely reclaim Taylor.
Even if she had to remain in the lowest place in the world to do so, she would say so without hesitation. Even if those around her beat their breasts and wailed, even if they seized her skirt and pleaded, she was someone who would smile faintly with that beautiful face, say “I’m fine,” and walk away in silence.
Because there was nothing she desired more desperately than the name Taylor.
Grace Taylor could not become Grace Richmond, and Grace Decan was even more impossible. So even if you love her, love her and cling to her, in the end she will abandon you.
Perhaps she will not even say she is sorry.
“Hah….”
Eric’s sorrowful sigh turned into a cold breath and scattered.
＊ ＊ ＊
Empire City, the capital at the center of the Decan Empire’s politics, culture, religion, and economy. Long ago, the first emperor who unified the continent built the capital, Empire City, under a thorough plan of urban design. The center of the capital was, without question, the imperial palace. All roads stretched forth from the imperial palace, and no building in the capital could be built higher than the imperial palace.
In other words, there was no place higher than the imperial palace in the Decan Empire. And currently, the one occupying that supreme seat was not the Emperor.
Hedviga, who had elegantly coiled up the distinctive red hair characteristic of House Sachsen, sat on the sofa having her nails tended to. A maid who had skillfully tidied the cuticles placed a small diamond onto the nail with tweezers.
“How is it, Your Majesty?”
“Hmm… the stone is small. Have them put on something slightly larger. …Yes. That will do.”
Hedviga continued speaking as she watched her nails grow increasingly ornate.
“So, you were humiliated quite publicly by Taylor, is that it?”
The Countess of Sachsen flushed red, the veins in her neck bulging.
“That’s right, Your Majesty! Grace Taylor—no. Since she was expelled from the family, now she’s just Grace, I suppose. Do you know what that insolent wretch said during the wedding?”
Hedviga lifted only her eyes and gazed at her.
“Why, she said she could never love our Jack, that she had someone she loved!”
“Ahem!!”
Count Sachsen cleared his throat as if angry and wrinkled the bridge of his nose.
“We couldn’t even seize that insolent girl! Even now, when I think of that day, I am so indignant I cannot breathe. Even the apology offered on behalf of House Taylor is not very welcome. Is it enough to merely say sorry?”
Hedviga’s gaze, which had been directed at her sister-in-law’s face, moved to the woman’s earrings, necklace, and dress.
“You must have been displeased.”
“Displeased, you say?!”
The Count, who had been doing nothing but clearing his throat, cut in furiously.
Hedviga blinked her eyes and dismissed the maids tending her nails all at once. Though it greatly irked her that only the thumb and index finger of her left hand had been done, it was not something to discuss in front of them.
She let out a deep, audible sigh and muttered.
“Whether you were displeased or not, why didn’t you force the marriage through? From Duke Taylor’s position, being in debt to my older brother, he would have wanted to use his stepdaughter as a sacrifice to have his debts forgiven. In the end, weren’t you the ones who put an end to this marriage?”
The Countess of Sachsen immediately cut in.
“Your Majesty! That wench said in front of the nobles that she could not love our Jack! That she had someone she loved! How could we endure that?!”
“Sister-in-law, isn’t Jack’s first son already seven years old? I heard there was another woman who came saying she was pregnant with Jack’s child. So does he have seven bastards in total?”
“…Ahem.”
“Do you still not know why I suggested Grace Taylor as Jack’s bride?”
Count Sachsen blinked his eyes and tilted his head.
“Well… because she is of the former Duke Taylor’s bloodline, we thought her a match befitting our house….”
Hedviga clicked her tongue lowly. Perhaps she should have honestly revealed the plan beforehand. She had held her tongue because it would be troublesome if word were to leak out, and so this mess had occurred.
“Who would have thought that girl, who had never once rebelled and only stayed in the ducal estate, would become a stumbling block in this manner.”
“Pardon?”
“Didn’t I tell you beforehand to prepare to gain the golden wheat fields in celebration of the wedding?”
“That was merely a pleasantry….”
Hedviga examined her unfinished left hand this way and that and spoke as if letting the words flow.
“The heir to House Taylor was scheduled to have a carriage accident in about a year. The Duchess and Lady Rosette would have wasted away and died, and the Duke too would have taken his own life, unable to hide his grief. Grace Sachsen would have become Taylor’s sole heir and inherited the golden wheat fields.”
“?!!”
“And Taylor’s debts would have been judged as the previous generation’s fault and written off.”