CHAPTER 133…………………………………………………..
Bittersweet End (12)
Anje ran his tongue over his chapped lips. As his tongue touched them, he winced, probably because the wounded skin stung. But that was all. He neither pleaded nor begged, which made Hildegard even more impatient.
“You think you’re clever, but you’re more clueless than I thought. Don’t you get the atmosphere? Beg the Duke to spare you! Beg! Or you’ll die!”
Excited, Hildegard grabbed Anje by the hair and shook him violently.
“Crazy woman!”
From a distance, Gray, who had been watching, ground his teeth and muttered a curse under his breath.
The Duke of Syd lowered his bow with a stern expression, but Anje, even with his hair being yanked, remained unshaken.
“Say anything! Beg!”
From somewhere in her lean frame, Hildegard drew enough strength to push Anje to the ground as if smashing him into it. Anje collapsed, groaning and writhing on the floor.
“Ugh…”
Even with his whole body aching, Anje was smiling. The week under the White Tiger’s curse had finally passed. Struggling to rise with his hands bound, Anje swayed and muttered to himself.
“If you insist that much…”
Then, making sure his voice reached the Duke, he shouted with all his might.
“Your Excellency! Now! You know, right? To the right!”
Not long ago, when Anje was acting as Hans and helping the Duke escape, the Duke, who had once wielded swords skillfully with both hands, had used only his right hand after injuring his left shoulder.
In the middle of a casual conversation, the topic had turned to what Anje should do if he were ever taken hostage.
‘Why would I become a hostage? Look, even now—I saved Your Excellency, didn’t I?’
‘Do you really think I was helpless enough to be rescued by someone like you? Are you serious?’
‘…Then, I suppose not?’
‘For a man, you’re pitifully weak and even dull. Listen closely: if that ever happens, always move to the right.’
‘Why?’
The Duke glanced at Anje with a momentary look of disdain before continuing.
‘If attacked from the right, you must evade to the right. Did you not know this, despite claiming to have information?’
‘Isn’t that just a rule for close combat?’
‘I’ve been using only my right hand for a while, so my right-side reflexes are sharper. So, if you’re ever held hostage while with me, always to the right.’
‘Yes… alright.’
‘Then, I’ll make sure to rescue you somehow.’
‘…If you say so.’
Reluctantly, Anje had replied, and it was soon forgotten. Perhaps he recalled it now because fortune had finally shifted after the White Tiger’s curse lifted.
Anje, pushing Hildegard—who still aimed her dagger at his neck—forcefully with his head, bent forward, and rolled to the right. Hildegard, quickly regaining her balance, raised the dagger high toward him.
“Hah!”
A sharp whistling sound cut the air as a single arrow from the Duke of Syd flew in an instant, embedding itself in the center of Hildegard’s chest.
Hildegard, struck in her arms, legs, and dagger hand, widened her eyes in disbelief.
Clang!
Dropping the dagger to the floor, Hildegard stared at the Duke in shock.
“How… how is this possible…”
She, too, could have shot the Duke. But thinking of the past and the love that nearly led to marriage, she hadn’t. Then, by the same logic, the Duke should act similarly, right?
But the only thing Hildegard saw when she looked up was the Duke’s cold expression.
Slowly, he drew another arrow. Hildegard watched, unable to tear her eyes away, as the sharp arrow flew straight toward her.
Finally, as the arrow pierced her heart, she looked back at Anje one last time before closing her eyes.
She would never understand why she had been defeated by such an insignificant woman.
The Emperor was sent not to a royal tomb but to the ossuary of a peripheral monastery. His coffin, wrapped in the black banner signifying the Emperor, was thrown into the cremation fire. All that remained afterward was his ashes in a small jar.
Some whispered pity for the Emperor, who had taken a villainess as his wife, but everyone knew he had never been a wise ruler.
The funeral was conducted simply in the underground ossuary, observed only by Grand Duke Algernon.
Though modest for an emperor’s funeral, everything was overlooked. There were too many nobles entangled in his crimes, and the social repercussions would have been too great.
“How is Miss Anje doing?”
At Davy’s question, the Duke of Syd pursed his lips with displeasure. Just by that expression, Davy felt he’d received an answer and smiled smoothly.
“She seems to be doing well. Had she been in poor condition, she wouldn’t have had the energy to give you such a displeased look.”
“……”
The nation had been in turmoil with the near-simultaneous deaths of the former Emperor and Empress. Due to poor governance, the royal household was in deficit, and even officials’ salaries were at risk.
The Duke of Syd had been living in the palace for a month, dealing with ongoing parliamentary sessions to discuss solutions.
Occasionally, he would return late at night to see Anje washed and asleep at the mansion, which was his only respite.
Amid this busyness, Davy requested a meeting during a brief recess. Having asked several times already, the Duke reluctantly arranged it, seeing it as a minor inconvenience.
“I hear that Crow, the Marquis, took care of Hildegard’s body. Where her orphanage once stood, a village cemetery has been established. The Marquis buried her there.”
“Not particularly curious. Was that really the reason you wanted to see me?”
Davy’s expression twisted slightly as he looked at the Duke.
The Emperor may have deserved his end, but Hildegard evoked a certain pity. Her twisted personality had been warped further by a harsh environment, compounded by her unrequited love for the Duke.
‘You could at least pity her a little…’
Yet the Duke was ruthlessly devoted only to those he cared for.
“She was cruel, indeed. But Miss Hildegard truly cared for Your Excellency. She had flaws, but ultimately, she was a pitiable woman.”
The Duke, who had seemed indifferent to Davy’s words, stood abruptly.
“Was that all you wanted to say? I’ve heard it. I’m busy, so goodbye.”
“But regarding Miss Anje…”
At the mention of Anje’s name, the Duke froze in his tracks.
“What are your intentions going forward?”
Tilting his head, the Duke sneered.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I know a little about Miss Anje and want to offer some advice. There’s been talk of marriage between you two. Now that it’s known she’s the granddaughter of Marquis Crow, there’s nothing left to hold you back.”
Davy, sitting with one leg crossed and fingers interlaced on his knee, had a hint of mischief in his posture.
The Duke narrowed his eyes, and Davy shrugged.
“I only speak out of concern for Miss Anje.”
Not for you—only for Anje.
The world gossiped about her being the granddaughter of Marquis Crow, wealthy yet still insufficient for the Duke’s house. But Davy thought differently.
‘Insufficient? She’s overflowing, almost wastefully so.’
Thus, what he was about to say was not spiteful toward the Duke—it was meant to give Anje another chance to reconsider.
“Miss Anje is safe and being properly cared for in the Duke’s household. According to the physician, she should soon be able to take walks and short outings.”
“Under the Duke of Syd’s protection, what could go wrong?”
The Duke frowned at Davy’s smile. Despite Davy’s impeccable manners, he always felt uneasy in his presence, as if a massive snake were flicking its tongue and circling around him.
“My concern is not that. Your Excellency knows what my profession truly is, doesn’t he?”
The furrow between the Duke’s brows deepened.
What scheme was this person hinting at now, bringing up his profession? Though ostensibly an astrologer, he had lived idly even when the former Emperor was alive, and now was no better than a rogue.
“What is it that you want to say?”
