<Chapter 5>
The early morning.
Although Lucien had suddenly boarded the carriage and left the duke’s estate, she hadn’t asked a single question. She figured it wasn’t her place to do so.
She quietly lifted her head and studied the duke’s face seated across from her.
It was hard and stiff. He had worn that same expression the day he came to the cabin.
Still, Lucien had thought the duke was a good person. No matter how angry he got, he never shouted or lashed out, nor did he strike her.
He had simply said, “It’s become difficult for you to stay here. I’m sorry… but you’ll need to move to a different place,” in a calm tone.
But why did she suddenly have to move?
Lucien hesitated, unsure whether she was even allowed to ask such a question.
Just then, someone’s shadow flickered beyond the cabin window.
Sensing movement, the duke turned his body and yanked the curtain aside — revealing a startled Benedict on the other side.
“Benedict, you!”
The duke shouted, and Lucien heard what Benedict yelled back as he fell to the ground:
“F-Father…!”
In that moment, everything clicked into place.
She now understood why she had to leave the estate.
She had mistakenly thought the noble duke’s precious son was just a friend, and had dared to call him by name.
Since long ago, people had said that anyone who disrespected a noble ended up in prison. So surely, Lucien was destined for the same fate.
“But prison sounds scary…”
Lucien began to tremble in fear.
“Child, are you cold?”
The duke, who had remained silent until now, spoke up.
Lucien shook her head, but he gently draped a spare blanket over her shoulders and around her neck.
“This should help a little. If it gets colder, I’ll even warm up a stone for you at the next rest stop.”
“Th-thank you.”
Lucien fidgeted with the unexpectedly soft and cozy blanket and glanced up at him again. His expression looked a bit more relaxed.
“Um… I…”
Gathering her courage from the warmth of the blanket, Lucien finally spoke.
“Will I… be staying in prison for a long time?”
“…What?”
The duke blinked, confused.
“I… I’m going to prison, right? I called your precious son by his name and…”
She couldn’t bring herself to say “I mistook him for a friend.” That would only make him angrier.
“I’m sorry.”
“……”
“If I had known he was someone noble, I never would have done that. I… I respect noble lords, truly.”
She knew asking for forgiveness wouldn’t erase her offense. But she wanted to convey her sincerity.
“…Hmph.”
After a pause, the duke let out a sigh and lowered his head.
“I think I may have wronged you greatly. I’m sorry, child.”
“W-what?!”
Lucien was so shocked that such a noble person would apologize to her that she almost jumped up from her seat. If the carriage weren’t moving, she probably would have.
“You’re not going to prison. You’re simply going to a new home.”
“Not… prison?”
“That’s right. So don’t be so frightened.”
It seemed the kind-hearted duke had decided to forgive Lucien.
Or perhaps the gentle Benedict—no, the young master—had intervened to stop her from being imprisoned.
Either way, Lucien was just deeply grateful.
“Thank you. I really thought I was going straight to prison.”
“That would never happen. You’re only twelve years old.”
Now that the mood had lightened, it was a little easier for Lucien to speak.
“Then… what kind of work will I do at the new house?”
“There’s no need for you to work.”
“Huh? But the troupe leader said if I worked hard and followed your instructions, you might let me return to the troupe. Don’t I have some kind of task?”
“Do you… want to go back to the troupe?”
Lucien glanced at him cautiously, then gave a small nod.
It wasn’t so much that she wanted to return, but more that she had nowhere else to go.
“So it’s okay to give me anything to do. I’ll work hard — at anything.”
“Well…”
The duke hesitated, then smiled.
“I’ll tell you one day. For now… yes. Is there anything you’d like to learn?”
She had never really thought about that. But then she remembered something Benedict had taught her recently — how to read — and how fun it had been.
“I’d like to learn to read.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. There’ll be someone who can teach you. But in any case, you must be tired from traveling since early dawn. I myself worked several days’ worth overnight and feel exhausted. We should both rest for a while.”
Lucien wasn’t very tired. What she truly wanted was to understand why the duke had brought her along. Why he was treating her so kindly.
And if she had no immediate duties, she also wanted to know when—or if—she could ever return to the troupe.
But whenever she asked questions, the kind duke looked troubled, so she didn’t press further. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
The carriage eventually arrived at a quiet house in the middle of a forest.
A maid, waiting at the estate, called Lucien “little lady” and escorted her to a second-floor room. It was a beautiful space with a soft bed and fluffy carpet.
“This room is amazing!”
“I’m glad, little miss. Would you like some warm milk?”
“O-oh, no! I’m fine, really…”
“Don’t refuse. It was specially prepared for you. It has plenty of honey, too.”
The maid placed a steaming mug of milk on the table next to her bed.
“I’ll go serve tea to the duke and the knights.”
Once alone, Lucien carefully sat on the bed that seemed far too luxurious for her.
Her bottom sank into it so deeply that she ended up flopping backward onto the mattress.
At that moment, the fatigue from the long journey hit her all at once. Before she realized it, Lucien had fallen asleep.
I was supposed to drink the milk… — That was her last thought.
Lucien woke up feeling strangely warm. But it’s winter — why is it hot?
She glanced absentmindedly out the window and immediately sat upright.
“……!”
The outer walls of the building were ablaze.
Panicked, Lucien looked around the smoke-filled room. There was no one else there.
Then a crashing sound came from the hallway outside.
“Eek!”
Terrified, Lucien curled into herself and screamed.
Get a grip.
She was used to fire. She had seen fire-stunts up close many times during the troupe’s shows.
Thinking of those performances, she forced herself to stand. Step by trembling step, she made her way to the door and opened it.
“……!”
A wave of searing heat rushed in.
But then, a soaked black cloth wrapped around her, and she was lifted into someone’s arms.
“You’re awake. Thank goodness.”
It was the duke’s voice. He cradled Lucien like a treasure.
“Duke…?”
“I’ll get you out of here. Cover your nose and mouth with my coat and stay still.”
His voice, even in urgency, was full of warmth.
But his body was swaying — Lucien realized he must be injured.
And the cloth that covered her was soaked in blood. The scent was unmistakable.
“Duke, I—!”
Lucien tried to say she could walk on her own. The trembling had left her now.
“Stay still!”
As she squirmed and the cloth slipped a little, the duke shouted sharply.
At that moment, a chandelier crashed down with a deafening sound.
Crash!
The duke ducked just in time, but shards still pierced his back.
“…Ugh.”
“Please, Duke. Let me—”
Despite her pleas, he shook his head and pushed forward.
“You absolutely… must not. You…”
Lucien felt a powerful resolve in his embrace — something unshakable, even through the thick cloth.
“…Duke.”
She realized now was the right time — the time to ask what he wanted her to do.
She looked up at him through the parted cloth, the blazing fire behind him.
“What is it… that you want me to do?”
The duke, who had only been looking forward, finally glanced down at her. But soon he turned his gaze back toward their escape.
“Yes.”
Now, he no longer hesitated.
Perhaps he instinctively knew this was his last chance.
“Lucien, you…”
But the rest of his words were drowned out by a violent fit of coughing. He had inhaled too much thick smoke.
Lucien regretted making him speak. But even so, he forced his cracked voice to go on.
“You can… help my son, Benedict…”
What did that mean? Lucien could only stare at him.
Then, suddenly, a cold wind rushed against her face. They had made it to the back exit.
Finally, he looked at her again. Hot tears fell from his cheeks onto hers.
Was it relief? But there was also sorrow in that expression.
His trembling lips spoke again, painfully:
“Yes… actually, you—”
BOOM!
His words were swallowed up by the roar of the collapsing building.
Lucien felt the sensation of falling. But thanks to the duke’s protective embrace, she wasn’t hurt at all.
Flames rained down on them like red-hot rain.
The duke made sure not a single spark touched her, even as he burned alive.
“N-no… please…”
Lucien cried, desperately wishing to change what was happening.
“Rain… please bring rain… someone…”
She didn’t even know who she was praying to.
She only hoped — desperately — that cold, heavy raindrops would fall here.
What did the duke think of her tears? He bit down on his lip as if to endure the pain and said:
“Don’t worry about someone like me, kind child… I… I’m not even worthy of it…”
He held her tightly. The warmth was different from the fire — it felt more like a parent’s embrace.
Is this… what they mean by a parent’s hug? Lucien wondered.
Then he whispered again:
“Help Benedict. Please… or no, just… run… Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say…”
His vague plea was his final breath.
And then — cruelly late — the rain began to fall.
Lucien did not lift her face from the duke’s chest, which was growing colder by the second.
