Chapter 36
The Marchioness drew in a sharp breath, then exhaled and spoke as cold and cutting as frost.
“You wretched girl! That maid you keep by your side—she must be a descendant of the demons, is she not? You conspired with vile creatures to cloud His Excellency’s judgment and seize Richmond for yourself, didn’t you?! That is why, the moment you arrived, you intimidated the maids and used them to pry into Richmond’s inner affairs, isn’t it?!”
“That is not true. Neither I nor my maid could ever be one of the ‘Invisible Ones.’”
At Grace’s words, Flora cried out:
“You killed my maids, and that’s all you have to say?!! How will you prove you are not one of the Invisible Ones?!!”
The Marchioness released Grace’s chin with a flick, then rose from her seat.
“During her regency, Her Majesty Hettevi the Empress officially acknowledged the existence of the Invisible Ones and declared them traitors. Over a decade ago, they assassinated His Highness Crown Prince Ares, the late Duke and Duchess of Richmond, and the late Duke and Duchess of Taylor.”
Grace’s eyes sank deep, her voice locked tight, biting as she spat her words.
“I could not possibly be the one who murdered His Highness Crown Prince Ares, nor the late Duke and Duchess of Richmond, nor the late Duke and Duchess of Taylor.”
The Marchioness let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.
“So you have no way to prove it other than empty words.”
“……”
“Out of regard for His Excellency’s honor, I’ll give you time to think.”
The Marchioness turned and ordered her maids.
“Lock her in solitary. And bring me the maid who came with her.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The maids yanked Grace to her feet with brute strength. They dragged her down a corridor that seemed darker than all the others branching from the hall. They descended moss-covered, slippery stone steps, down and down, until at last a black door appeared.
A knight opened it. At once, a chill far sharper than before, laced with dampness, rushed out.
Grace instinctively froze, but a maid shoved her hard between the shoulder blades. The pitch-black cell admitted not a single shaft of light; its size and depth were impossible to gauge.
The door slammed shut. When Grace turned back, even the door was swallowed by darkness. Only through a narrow slit, barely the span of a hand, a faint flicker of candlelight trembled. Through it seeped a cold voice.
“No one has ever come out of that room sane. In just three days, they all start raving and confess everything.”
“That’s what you get for your greed. Reach above your station, and this is how you end.”
The maids hurled their jeers and left.
The sound of boots climbing damp stairs receded, and even the dim candlelight—like a North Star guiding her—disappeared. Perfect darkness engulfed her.
Without light or sound, the cell became an abyss.
Time and space shattered, and the boundary between sky and earth dissolved.
Grace inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and sat down on the floor. Her body trembled instinctively, her heart raced—so she closed her eyes and desperately recalled her master’s teachings.
“The beast you seek to capture will always be larger than you, my lady. Be prepared to give an arm if you must.”
At the same time, she thought she heard another voice—low and cold.
“Then endure, Grace Taylor.”
Strangely, it was not her master’s voice but that chill voice that steadied her pounding heart.
The first time she had experienced this abyss, when time and space had broken—on that day she stood before the charred corpses of her parents—she had clung to the vision of a boy whose face she didn’t even know, and endured. Compared to that, this was nothing.
“Endure.”
Grace clenched her teeth and tightened her core.
＊＊＊
The Richmond ducal estate was like a beehive turned upside down.
“Search everywhere!!”
The Count of Ruwen’s knights and soldiers moved in precise formation, scouring every corner of the garden and the estate, searching for someone.
Walter cut across the rear garden as though pushing against a current. The soldiers who had been rummaging through bushes straightened at once when they saw him. The Duke passed them by indifferently. As the breeze stirred in his wake, the soldiers risked furtive glances at him.
The man was like a towering black wall, or perhaps a vast shadow. He walked at a pace neither hurried nor slow. His expression, glimpsed in passing, was so impassive that no emotion could be read.
One soldier blinked uneasily and muttered,
“His Excellency… did he really give permission for this?”
“Not sure. I think it was the Marchioness’s order…”
Joseph, following behind Walter, clenched his teeth and glared. From throat to heart, he burned as though he had swallowed molten lava.
But the soldiers overturning the garden were the least of it. When Joseph reached the corridor leading to the chandelier room, he let out a bitter laugh. Knights wearing Richmond’s crest on their chests were ransacking the chandelier room without the Duke’s leave, even using force.
A dog biting its master.
Walter approached the chandelier room as silently as creeping darkness. The knights guarding outside hastily bowed, but he ignored them.
Inside looked as though thieves had broken in. Grace’s belongings lay strewn across the floor, knights rummaging through them. They straightened quickly at his entrance.
Without betraying a flicker of emotion, Walter designated the highest-ranking knight and ordered:
“Take me to where the maids’ bodies are kept.”
The knight led Walter to the underground morgue. Nobles, summoned by the Marchioness, were already there.
They clustered around two bodies laid upon a rectangular stone dais. Some stood back murmuring in low tones, some peered closely at the corpses, others covered mouth and nose with handkerchiefs, faces twisted in disgust.
When Walter entered, the nobles all stepped back two paces and bowed their heads. The Marchioness, who had been standing by the heads of the corpses, rushed over with a worried face.
“Your Excellency! Are you well?”
Walter halted, towering, and looked down at her with only his eyes.
“You must have been so shocked. But worry no longer, Your Excellency.”
A dog that bites its master now dares to worry for him.
Walter brushed past her and moved toward the bodies. She hurried to follow, still talking.
“These poor girls, they must have been so terrified—they left a note and took their own lives…”
Her words trailed off. Walter had begun to examine the corpses himself. Joseph too approached. Their gazes were so cold, so clinical, that she could not bring herself to stop them.
Then Walter, staring intently at the neck of a body, asked:
“They killed themselves?”
“Yes. When the soldiers found them, both had hanged themselves.”
One knight answered, but Joseph immediately lifted his head and said:
“They didn’t kill themselves.”
The Marchioness scowled sharply.
“Five soldiers all testified they found them hanged!”
She snapped, but Walter interjected.
“They did not hang themselves. They were strangled. The necks bear the marks unique to those killed by garroting. Summon a professional examiner and determine the precise cause of death.”
“……”
Silence. She could feel the nobles’ eyes drilling into her back. All the nobles had gathered—save those loyal only to the Duke, there were also moderates who might still side with him. The Marchioness stiffened her neck and forced a sorrowful look.
“Your Excellency, youthful passions are like fire—bright and beautiful, but they die out in the blink of an eye.”
The Duke’s eyes, black as the depths of the earth, seemed to pierce straight through hers. Her heart tightened instinctively, but she held firm. She raised her voice, making sure all could hear.
“These maids claimed that your lady companion’s maid was one of the Invisible Ones!”
The morgue erupted in murmurs.
“The Invisible Ones?”
“They’ve returned?!”
Sensing the tide flowing toward her, the Marchioness pressed on.
“The true importance is not how these girls died, but that this happened immediately upon your companion’s arrival—and that she may be implicated in their deaths. You must set aside sentiment and see the situation clearly, Your Excellency!”
Walter gazed silently at the nobles, who grew more agitated by the moment. Then he slowly dragged a hand down his face. A simple gesture, yet it silenced them one by one.
The Duke was like a fathomless black sea. To look at him was enough to stir a dangerous fear.
“The Invisible Ones?”
“Their note said as much. The very ones who, over a decade ago, slew Crown Prince Ares, the late Duke and Duchess of Taylor, and your own father and mother—then vanished without a trace!”
“You claim Grace is one of them?”
“Regrettably, Your Excellency, you must prepare for that possibility.”
Viscount Rinko spoke like a loyal knight.
A silence full of thorns pricked at everyone’s nape. At last, after long withholding his words, Walter closed his eyes and gave his order.
“Cease all interrogation and searches of Grace. Instead, find those who last came into contact with the dead maids, and bring me a full account of the circumstances.”
