She hated feeling alone. Jessie and Eric, Lady Cornwall, Master… They were there, yet she still felt alone. It was unbearably lonely. On lonely nights like this, the night stretched endlessly. She did not think of her parents. It was too painful to recall their final moments, burned black.
Before she knew it, her head was filled with that boy. On long, endless nights, Grace would fall asleep sketching the boy whose face she did not know.
What could he be doing?
He must have to hide himself even more thoroughly than I. I wonder how he fares.
Surely he hasn’t given up? If I could send a letter, I would write to him not to give up, that he absolutely must not, that we must meet again someday.
Even his name is splendid. To think it is the name of a god of war.
Grace carefully pronounced the name engraved in a corner of her heart.
“—Ares.”
Perhaps it was because the Ares of myth was the god who presided over war and victory. When she spoke his name, her heart fluttered as though she had found a hope she could never seem to grasp.
Grace closed her eyes and called out to him again.
“—Ares.”
It was then.
“I’m here.”
‘?’
Had she misheard? Grace exhaled quietly, then tried calling him again.
“—Ares Deccan.”
“I’m here.”
When the answer came again, sudden confusion washed over her. Was she dreaming now? Or had it been a dream from the very beginning?
Her drowsy mind whispered. What does it matter. Then she laughed. Grace called out to him again in a voice laced with laughter.
“—Ares?”
“I said I’m here.”
This time, the answer came with a sigh.
This time, strangely, a figure was drawn in her mind. A man of sharp lines, as if sketched quickly with a pen, seemed to narrow his eyes and shake his head.
“Why do you keep crying. Are you in pain?”
Just as she heard a voice that seemed cool, someone brushed over her eyes. A touch that felt clumsy yet rough was unfamiliar.
Could it be a dream demon?
The smile that had formed emptily vanished, and for some reason, her throat felt tight. A heart she had been unable to reveal to anyone squeezed at the pit of her chest.
Should she tell him.
“—...Loro was taken from me. That child was the last gift my father gave me.”
“...What is Loro.”
“A rabbit.”
“Who took it.”
“Rosette.”
“Take it back.”
“—I asked for it back, and the Duchess slapped me. Asking why I couldn’t even give something so trivial.”
“You got slapped?”
Somehow, the tone that seemed angry warmed a corner of her heart. Grace pulled the blanket she was hugging a little closer and asked.
“—Hug me.”
But for some reason, the answers that had been coming quickly until now returned slowly only after a long while.
“You’ll regret it.”
Was it because the answer came slowly, or because of the dangerous feeling carried in that voice? Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine, and the hazy force that had been making her drift between consciousness and unconsciousness receded like the tide.
Grace snapped her eyes open.
“....…”
This was not the scenery of Duke Taylor’s estate.
A dark room. She was lying on her side. Within her line of sight, at the edge of the bed, a man sat.
He of a towering frame embraced darkness in his arms, and wrapped golden light around himself like a cloak. His beautiful face, steeped in soft darkness, held a danger that seemed to steal a person’s soul and, at the same time, cut them if touched.
If Ares, the god of war and victory, were to manifest in the flesh, he would surely look like this. Then, tilting his head, he whispered low.
“A hug?”
Grace’s heart, which had been entranced and blank, pounded heavily as if dropping. She tried to raise her body reflexively, but Ares easily suppressed her movement.
“Not yet. Stay lying down.”
But Grace had a side just as stubborn as Eliza. She politely refused Ares’s touch and finally managed to sit up. For a moment, her head rang and spun, her vision going dark, but even so, she did not lie back down.
Seeing this, Ares frowned and muttered.
“You’re stubborn in strange places.”
“I cannot see you while lying down.”
“For someone who says that, you called my name quite a few times?”
Grace faltered at the words flowing seriously from the lips of the man like a mountain range. Her green eyes, which had never wavered at any moment, lost their way and wandered.
‘I’m here. I’m here. I said I’m here.’
The moment she realized that all the answers that had returned like sighs were real, Grace wanted to hide somewhere. Heat bloomed across her pale cheeks like sparks. With her reddened face, she could only open and close her mouth, unable to face Ares, and barely managed to produce a voice.
“I am sorry, Your Highness. For recklessly using your name....”
Whatever she was about to say, Ares, who had been staring persistently at her lips alone, spoke the moment the word ‘name’ came out.
“Say it.”
“No, please forgive me.”
She had been steeped in all kinds of emotions—anger, despair, resignation—but this kind of shame was a first. If she could, she wanted to flip the covers over her head right that instant.
Then, suddenly, he pressed her chin firmly with his thumb.
“Stop biting your lips.”
“....…”
Lips parted from the pressure on her chin, eyes dazedly open.
Frozen in that state, Grace quickly pulled her body back and covered her mouth with her hand. Ares slowly lowered the hand he had stretched toward her. But his gaze remained nailed to her, and his body leaned toward her.
Grace could not understand why her breath was quickening. She lowered her eyes and made rambling excuses.
“I thought it was a dream.”
“If it had been a dream, it would have been a greater honor.”
A very low and cool voice evoked an underground cave. As the heart she had wished would settle began to race wildly again, Grace raised her eyes sharply and stared at Ares.
Why on earth was he like this.
Then Ares, who had been looking at her as though he would devour her, leaned his back against the sofa and changed the subject.
“What breed of rabbit is Loro? What color? Is it female or male?”
“...?”
“Don’t tell me Rosette Taylor ate it?”
“...What?”
“You said Rosette Taylor stole Loro.”
Grace narrowed her eyebrows, wondering what he was talking about. Then, she recalled the conversation she had shared with him unconsciously.
‘What is Loro. Who stole it. Take it back.’
When she thought of him answering each question for the half-asleep person with an extremely serious expression, a sneeze-like laugh burst out uncontrollably. Her emotions ran rampant. She tried to suppress her laughter, burying her face in her palm, but laughter seeped through her fingers.
“Kukuk....”
She suppressed the giggles bursting out and finally swept her face hard to wipe away the laughter. Afraid laughter would come out again if she saw Ares’s serious face, she lowered her eyes and spoke in a mutter.
“Loro is a rabbit doll. ...It was white, and it has no gender. And it most definitely cannot be eaten.”
“You called a rabbit doll ‘that child,’ so I was confused.”
At Ares’s brazen words, the laughter she had gathered erupted again.
“She really steals even trivial things.”
Grace scrunched her eyes shut, then opened them to keep from laughing more. When she raised her eyes after taking a deep breath, a deep and clear black sea held her within it.
“Did it hurt badly?”
“...No.”
“....…”
“It didn’t.”
Grace smiled brightly and shook her head. And this time, she changed the subject.
“Did I sleep for a long time? How much time has passed since the Grand Alliance Council ended?”
Then Ares’s atmosphere changed as well. The playful air evaporated, revealing a cool and sharp true nature.
“It has been roughly eleven hours since you lost consciousness.”
Ares told Grace about the interrogation that had taken place in the underground prison. Just as Grace, who had been listening to his story, was about to open her mouth to say something, Ares sensed a faint movement. He raised his hand as if telling her not to speak and turned toward the door. Grace followed his gaze to the door, and sure enough, a knock soon sounded.
“Your Majesty, it is Joseph.”
“Enter.”
Joseph entered the room, quickly exchanged a glance with Grace, and reported on the underground matters.
“Count Luwen has confessed to all his crimes. He claims that ‘Iron Foot’ and the recruitment of soldiers were acts of his own discretion, and that Count and Countess Rinko are not related to this matter.”
The eyes of Ares and Grace narrowed simultaneously.