TIHYGR 21

The man’s red lips, which had curved into a smirk, slowly fell. Just as he narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak—

The door to the hallway opened softly, breaking the sharp tension inside the room.

Walter and the man turned their heads at the same time.

“……”

Eyes as round and fresh as grapes widened slightly, then calmly settled. With just that small change, Walter became certain this was the man Grace had called.

Grace’s gaze landed on the man. Beside her, Jesse let out a soft chuckle.

The man who had been confronting Walter turned toward Grace and swiftly approached. As he drew nearer, Grace’s expression began to change.

“Eric.”

She called his name in a voice tinged with laughter. Eric stopped just one step away and grinned.

“My lady.”

At his honeyed greeting, Joseph’s eyebrows shot up.

Seriously, why are there so many people flipping sides like turning a palm?

Grace gave Eric a slight nod before approaching Walter.

“I should have told you beforehand. I’m sorry. This is Viscount Eric Napier. He’s a vassal of Taylor and is currently hiding his identity while running a merchant guild.”

At her introduction, Eric bowed his head politely, as if nothing had happened earlier.

“Good day. I’m Eric Napier. Please forgive my earlier rudeness.”

Of course, Walter didn’t believe for a second that Eric hadn’t known who he was.

“I, too, acted rudely. Your presence was… unexpected.”

“Not at all. It’s nothing.”

What a joke. You looked at me like you wanted to tear me apart.

Walter let out a short laugh and began to turn away, but then paused to ask Grace a question.

“How was it?”

Though the question lacked context, Grace understood right away and answered.

“I met with Madam Isaac. She said she would help. The Grand Duchess will wake soon.”

Walter seemed ready to ask more but stopped himself. It was time to leave. Grace didn’t stop him as he walked out the door.

When Walter glanced back as he entered the Duke’s chambers, he caught a glimpse of Eric kissing the back of Grace’s hand through the closing door.

Grace was smiling brightly. As she did, a soft dimple appeared on her right cheek.

The door closed, and Walter clicked his tongue. He looked around the room in silence before heading straight back into the hallway without sitting down. Joseph hurried to catch up, and Walter spoke.

“Wait for him and make sure he can leave without being seen.”

“Ah, y–yes!”

Leaving Joseph behind, Walter strode away.

The sun was already stretching low across the sky.

Walter hated this time of day. The stark layers of color in the air felt suffocating.

He widened his stride. Bathed in the crimson sunlight, he walked on until a solitary building came into view—like a remnant of a fallen kingdom.

This was the place where he had hidden for three years after the incident. For Walter, it was like a prison. Not because he had been locked up, but because he was a sinner in this place.

The sinner who lived while the heir to Richmond died.

And worse, the one who stole even that name.

＊ ＊ ＊

There’s a reason the twilight makes his chest feel tight: its suffocating colors always bring back memories that suffocate him.

The deep crimson light pouring through the corridor window felt sticky, like heavy paint.

Madam Isaac arrived in a rush and bowed respectfully to Walter.

“You’re here.”

“…It’s been a while.”

The two faced each other.

In the ten years since they last met, their eye levels had changed. Walter brushed past her, and she quickly turned to follow.

There was no need for her to guide him.

Each step up the stairs felt like sinking deeper into the sea.

Walter… How much pain did you endure, how much… Walter…

It was on the day he heard Eliza’s muffled sobs that he realized: simply being alive could be a sin.

Your Highness, you must survive. Save His Majesty and return to your rightful place.

He resented the late Grand Duke who had saved him with those words.

Walter stood before the massive, aged doors, which looked like dead trees.

When he opened them, the cold stench of death hit him. The furniture inside the room was exactly as it had been ten years ago—right down to its placement.

In the center of the room was a large bed. On it lay a shriveled mound that seemed ready to disappear at any moment. Seeing it made Walter feel as if his blood had turned to boiling oil.

Madam Isaac rushed to the bed.

“Grand Duchess.”

“……”

“Grand Duchess, His Grace is here.”

“……”

“Grand Duch—”

“That’s enough.”

Walter’s calm command stopped her, and she hesitantly stepped back.

He approached Eliza. As if a deep bog was pulling at his ankles, he sank into the sofa by her bedside. Then, leaning his head back against the seat, he looked up at the ceiling. This posture was vastly different from his usual composed demeanor, even on the battlefield.

He sat loosely, almost sloppily, shedding the mask of ease and smiles he always wore.

“!”

The moment that mask slipped away, Madam Isaac unconsciously stepped back.

Among the fierce knights of Richmond, Walter had always seemed composed because he hid himself so thoroughly. With the mask gone, what remained was a presence far deeper and more dangerous than anything the others could match.

Madam Isaac’s lips trembled slightly. Her husband and all three sons were knights. She knew the aura of survivors.

But this… this wasn’t just fierceness or bloodlust.

This was madness—layered over time like geological strata.

“I’m back.”

“……”

“Why are you like this? While you lie here like this, Richmond is crawling with rats. So many that there’s hardly space to step.”

His voice was drowsy, but he laughed sharply. A cold sweat ran down Madam Isaac’s back.

“I came intending to clean house. Just like they did—by lopping off the heads first.”

Had he not met Grace, he would have done exactly that. Richmond would have reeked of blood by now.

With Eliza bedridden, Marquis Rinko had taken control of all things Richmond. Walter had planned to crush the entire tower of power rather than try to chip away at it.

Richmond would be drenched in blood, but he had seen no other way.

Who to kill first? How to do it?

These were the thoughts that consumed him—until the madness inside began to swell beyond control. Even now, just thinking about the imposters playing lord within Richmond made his rage surge.

Walter closed his eyes and clenched and unclenched his fists.

Then a soft voice pierced through the violent storm inside his head.

You must not stain Richmond with blood. Only then will you be able to wield its power.

Walter slowly opened his eyes and sat upright. Amid the bedding lay tangled strands of silver-white hair. Her once dark hair had all turned gray. He felt like someone was squeezing his throat.

“Wake up.”

“……”

“You must rise. Only then can Richmond avoid being soaked in blood. It is not I, but you, who must judge Richmond’s vassals.”

“……”

Eliza gave no response.

Of course. The one she wanted to punish the most probably wasn’t even Marquis Rinko—but herself.

Walter stood up.

He had to leave now, or he might truly suffocate.

＊ ＊ ＊

Marchioness Rinko had lost interest in her afternoon tea, replaying the conversation she’d had with the Duke over and over again.

“A commoner without even a surname…”

Caution was vital, so she had made a discreet request to her information network. But the result had been disappointing.

“‘Red Moon’ says it will take three months to gather accurate information on the woman’s identity.”

“Three months? That’s far too long.”

She couldn’t sit idly for three months waiting for information. Her instincts were screaming that now was the time to seize the upper hand.

“Yes. However, they did mention that most commoners do have surnames. The fact that she deliberately omits hers likely means her parents are criminals.”

“Criminal parents… There’s a village of fugitives near the Wall of Death, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

A fugitive’s daughter from that village, meeting the Duke who was stationed nearby…

“Hm. The story checks out.”

To be continued…