Chapter : 84
“What kind of sacrilegious act is this!”
“Stop.”
The king had clearly identified the source of the unease. He quietly smiled as he gestured for the chamberlain to leave. His gray eyes, like those of a wolf, glared sharply at him.
“I didn’t know… you are truly skilled in trickery.”
Though his head was facing the king, his words were actually aimed at the duke. Enoch asked, arms crossed:
“In what?”
“It says they will be released, but there’s no mention of restoring Roxana’s status.”
Curtis turned his head toward Enoch as if he had been waiting for this moment, speaking clearly:
“Does that matter? She’ll be released safely.”
“She may be safe for now, but sooner or later, her father, Duke Dalton’s crimes, could be used to punish her under the principle of collective responsibility.”
The king twisted his mouth.
“Very well. Should I then include a statement that Roxana Dalton will not be punished under collective responsibility?”
“No. You’ve thought beyond that.”
Curtis sneered coldly and shook his head.
“If Roxana and I were to marry in the future, any child born from that union would be considered a misalliance and ineligible to inherit titles. Moreover…”
In truth, the issue of misalliance wasn’t a real problem. If he had cared about social status, he wouldn’t have stooped to be a lowly gypsy or mercenary, even for revenge. Curtis calmed himself for a moment and continued, carefully composed:
“…That child could still be punished under collective responsibility in the future. While Roxana herself may not be held accountable immediately, unless Duke Dalton is pardoned and restored, collective responsibility extends for three generations.”
It was a cunning, snake-like strategy—holding even an unborn child as a potential hostage.
“Truly shrewd.”
Enoch, who had been quietly listening, nodded in agreement. Curtis bared his teeth as he spoke:
“Tell me. What is it that Your Majesty wants from me, using Duke Dalton’s restoration as a pretext?”
“Well…”
“Marquess Otis?”
“No. Didn’t you say that one could be killed?”
Though his blood tied him to the king, even a child was merely a tool to protect the throne. Especially an illegitimate one.
“Lead the army west and repel Croatia’s invasion. If you achieve a complete victory, I will forgive Duke Dalton and restore his status. Then, there will be no misalliance and no collective responsibility.”
“Then…”
“Immediately. Right now.”
The king interrupted Curtis, emphasizing his words. Curtis gritted his teeth at the implication.
It would likely be a fierce battle. In such a fight, not only the commander’s ability but also his physical condition mattered. Even the best of bodies could not guarantee success if the body was in poor condition.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been impossible—but there was no other choice.
“Very well.”
“Then.”
Caught. The king, looking pleased, was about to order the ropes binding him to be removed.
“But before that, one thing.”
Curtis abruptly turned his head to face the duke, and in those piercing blue eyes, he added quietly:
“There are conditions.”
The day after Curtis’s sudden visit, Roxana was abruptly led down the tower with her eyes, ears, and mouth covered. She was bound tightly with ropes and moved like a piece of luggage, unable to resist.
“Ugh!”
Her struggling body, arms and legs tied, finally landed on a soft cushion.
Only after the door closed were the cloths covering Roxana’s eyes, ears, and mouth removed. Freed from darkness, the first thing she saw was Prey, similarly blindfolded and bound.
“Prey!”
Roxana shouted in shock at Prey, who had collapsed across from her.
“Prey! Wake up!”
“It’s useless. She’s in a deep sleep.”
The door opened the next moment. Reflexively, Roxana backed into a corner, staring at the man entering the carriage.
“Duke…?”
“Have you been well?”
Platinum hair like silver threads and piercing blue eyes—he was undoubtedly Duke Enoch Franz. Roxana, flustered, stammered in confusion:
“W-where…? N-no… why am I here…?”
“Calm down.”
Enoch sat beside Roxana in the corner, closing the carriage door, then tapped the floor twice with his staff. Perhaps a signal to depart, as the coach jolted forward with the driver cracking the whip.
Enoch reached out his hand to Roxana. Tense, she recoiled like a frightened cat. With a small sigh, Enoch withdrew his hand.
“I only intend to release you.”
“…”
“You must have many questions: why you left the tower, why I’m here, and what happened to Curtis.”
Questions poured out of her like a flood.
“Why didn’t Curtis follow my plan? After taking the poison, he was supposed to leave the castle. Why did he come to see me at the tower?”
“He realized your plan. That this heirloom was the only one left, too.”
Enoch showed her the vial he had tucked away, which Roxana recognized as given by Queen Margaret. Her eyes flickered.
“May I first untie the ropes I bound you with?”
“…Alright.”
Roxana nodded obediently, lowering her guard. Enoch released all the ropes, and Roxana finally sat properly in the carriage.
Her first act after being freed was to untie the cloth and ropes restraining Prey. Enoch, who had silently watched, spoke only after she finished.
“Aren’t you angry?”
“At what?”
“Prey Russell poisoned you, tried to escape, and was caught by His Majesty.”
“…”
“Had that not happened, you might have held out in the castle longer, forcing His Majesty to tire himself out.”
Indeed, the situation was true. Without sufficient justification, the king’s attack on the Grand Duke’s castle had consumed precious time. Had Curtis allied with the other Grand Dukes, he might have easily defeated the king as his power waned.
“…What’s done is done. ‘What if’ assumptions are meaningless.”
Roxana, briefly silent, brushed Prey’s pale cheek.
“She looks haggard.”
Enoch instinctively placed a hand over his left chest. Yes, this was it—the resolute face that did not dwell on self-pity or the past, always looking forward. He was drawn to her composure, to the way she aided others, even Curtis Russell.
“Do you not feel anger or hatred? How can you forgive and embrace someone so easily?”
“You look at me as if I’m a saint. But that’s not the case.”
Roxana shook her head, away from Prey.
“I feel all emotions—anger, hatred, sorrow.”
Enoch did not look convinced. Roxana smiled faintly and continued:
“But under the nobility of love, they are nothing.”
Though different in form, it was all love—love from her mother, from the abbess, from Mary, Robert, Kacy, Alice, and even from Curtis and Prey. It manifested as maternal love, friendship, familial love, or romantic love.
She reciprocated all of it with equal affection. While miracles of reciprocation were rare, embracing them was her way of loving.
“Sometimes, to see clearly, you must accept and forgive. It’s not because I’m particularly wise or kind—it’s just that I choose foresight over burning in anger and hatred.”
“…”
A silence fell. Enoch, reflecting on her words, lowered his head, lost in thought.
Roxana broke the silence.
“Isn’t it my turn now?”
Enoch simply nodded.
“Where is Curtis now?”
“…Not in the capital.”
“Then?”
Roxana, despite saying Prey looked pale, was herself even paler—starved, sleepless, and exhausted, unlike Prey who had merely been confined in the royal guest room.
Should she hear all of it now? Could she bear the shock? Hesitant, Enoch cautiously asked:
“Did he leave any message?”
“He asked us to wait. That neither of us would die.”
“…It’s true the situation has stabilized. As he said, we must wait.”
“Your Grace, Duke.”
Reading Enoch’s hesitancy, Roxana’s expression hardened.
“Explain this situation to me. Everything. Leave nothing out.”
Her face was resolute, allowing no retreat. Enoch, eyes lowered, asked quietly:
“Can you handle it?”
Handle it… Roxana, familiar with the word, smiled faintly.
“I’ve carried everything and handled it so far, no matter what it was.”
