Chapter 09

The sharp accusation drew a mocking curl from the man’s lips.

His eyes, the color of fresh spring leaves, gleamed coldly in the darkness. They were every bit as chillingly clear as Aeshila’s pale crimson gaze.

Ignoring his daughter’s hostility without the slightest concern, Teriot lazily rested his chin on one hand.

“Oh?”

His long, slender fingers turned another page of the book.

“You barge into my room out of nowhere, and now you’re talking nonsense.”

“…”

“What is it this time? Did your lover threaten to publish your love letters?”

“I don’t write love letters. Stop changing the subject.”

The words came out sharper than she intended, and she immediately disliked how rattled she sounded.

Realizing she had lost her composure, Aeshila slowly steadied her breathing.

“I brought a child back from House Artes.”

“…You? Tomorrow the sun must be planning to set in the east.”

“You know what Grandfather’s will says, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t interested.”

He spoke of his own father’s will as though it were a worthless scrap of paper lying in the street.

I really want to grab that unemployed freeloader by the hair…

Suppressing the satisfying fantasy, Aeshila quickly recited the relevant parts of the will.

He was pretending to read.

But she knew he was listening.

Teriot had the absurd ability to remember everything after hearing it only once.

As expected…

He flipped another page and asked casually,

“So?”

“Ruby chose the little brat?”

“That’s right.”

“She’s the illegitimate child of House Artes.”

“Then shouldn’t you be asking the Count of Artes whether he fathered a child? Why come here and start causing trouble for me?”

“Why do you think?”

“I already told you.”

“That child is a Duncan.”

…

Which meant only one thing.

The child’s parent had to be one of three people.

Aeshila.

Reinhardt.

Or…

Teriot.

A cold smile tugged at her lips.

Teriot simply pointed toward the door with the book in his hand.

“Nope.”

“Not my child.”

“…”

“Why don’t you consider the possibility that you secretly had a child instead?”

“You think I’m old enough to have a six- or seven-year-old child?”

“My dearest father.”

“Though I never expected you to remember how old I am.”

Despite her heavy sarcasm, Teriot showed no reaction.

He merely nodded.

“Then I suppose she’s Father’s child.”

“Congratulations.”

“You’ve found your aunt.”

“…”

Speechless, Aeshila grabbed the nearest book and hurled it at him.

He caught it effortlessly.

Somehow, even that irritated her.

Whether the person in front of him was boiling with rage or not, Teriot looked utterly bored by the entire conversation.

“I’ve said this enough times to grow tired of hearing myself.”

“It’s definitely not me.”

“…”

“So she can’t possibly be a Duncan.”

“No.”

“She is a Duncan.”

Teriot merely shrugged.

His irresponsible attitude made Aeshila grind her teeth.

Fine.

She had known from the beginning that confronting this man would accomplish nothing except worsen her temper.

The real fool…

…was herself for coming here anyway.

She glared at the infuriatingly calm man one last time before storming out.

BANG!

The door slammed shut.

Left alone, Teriot let out a long sigh.

“My daughter really hasn’t changed…”

As though nothing had happened, he resumed reading.

Page after page turned with steady rhythm.

Anyone watching would have admired his concentration.

“…Ha.”

But…

The bomb his daughter had just dropped was too large.

He hadn’t absorbed a single line.

Closing the book, Teriot clicked his tongue.

“A Duncan…”

* * *

The Countess fainted the instant she saw Lloyd’s face.

The boy’s hair had become a complete mess.

A large patch on the crown of his head had been ripped bald.

His face and body were covered with countless scratches left by cat claws.

After the maids hurriedly carried her to bed, she completely forgot about dignity and screamed in fury.

“Aeshila Duncan!”

She wasn’t accustomed to cursing.

She couldn’t even finish the insults she wanted to shout.

But Aeshila’s voice remained painfully vivid in her memory.

That voice…

Filled with unmistakable contempt.

That merciless ridicule.

That playful threat about cutting off the roads.

It was humiliating.

So humiliating that her whole body trembled.

Having her shame exposed so openly—

Even if she truly had been at fault—

Was unbearable.

As she seethed with humiliation, a commotion erupted downstairs.

Hearing servants rushing about, she screamed,

“What is it now?!”

Soft footsteps crossed the carpet.

She whipped her head around—

Then froze.

“I believe I’m the one who should be asking that, my lady.”

A tired-looking man stood quietly in the doorway.

Green eyes like lush summer leaves.

Messy brown hair.

Firmly pressed lips.

A proud, slightly upturned nose.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes.

The master of House Artes.

Her husband.

The Count of Artes.

Hadn’t he said his business trip would take much longer?

Her surprise lasted only an instant before fury surged back.

The moment she saw him, hatred flooded her heart.

She raised her hand to slap him.

The Count calmly caught her wrist.

“Where is Ronell?”

“That bastard child again!”

“That bastard child! That bastard child!”

“Did you even see Lloyd’s face?!”

“I did.”

The Count answered evenly.

Leaning against the doorway, he continued,

“He probably ended up like that because he threw another tantrum.”

“What?!”

“Children don’t grow up without getting hurt once in a while.”

“You always say that!”

The Countess cried out in despair.

The Count simply remained silent.

Various emotions flickered through his hollow green eyes before disappearing once more.

“My lady.”

“…”

“Where is Ronell Artes?”

His voice remained calm.

Which only made it more frightening.

She instinctively flinched.

Then lifted her chin proudly.

Of everyone…

The Count of Artes had no right to criticize her.

After all…

Every tragedy had begun with the unforgivable sin committed by the man standing before her.

“At the Duncan estate.”

The Count’s face instantly turned deathly pale.

The Countess stared in shock.

All the color drained from his face.

He looked like a gravely ill man.

She had expected anger.

Never this.

“…Duncan?”

“R-Roenard?”

“What’s wrong? Is there some—”

“The Duncan family?!”

His voice rose sharply.

In more than ten years of marriage…

She had never once heard him shout like this.

Startled, she sat halfway upright.

“Y-Yes.”

“Lady Aeshila Duncan—”

BANG!

His fist smashed into the wall.

His knuckles turned white from how tightly he clenched them.

“Damn it!”

Leaving behind only that brief curse…

He rushed out of the room.

* * *

Meanwhile…

Ronell blinked inside the enormous bed occupying the enormous bedroom.

It’s huge…

Really huge…

The room was so large it almost frightened her.

She gazed anxiously at the moonlight filtering through the curtains and began counting sheep in her head.

It didn’t help at all.

She had already dozed off while being carried in Aeshila’s arms.

Now that she actually wanted to sleep…

She couldn’t.

…

Actually…

She didn’t want to sleep.

If she woke up…

She would probably find herself staring at the inside of the storage closet again.

Rather than seeing Lloyd’s cruel face…

She would rather spend the entire night inside this dream.

I-I should turn on the lamp…

Would that be okay?

Ronell timidly reached out…

Then pulled her hand back.

The darkness felt as though it might bite her arm.

“There are monsters wandering the streets at night.”

“They can swallow little children whole.”

Mary had warned her with a frighteningly serious expression.

Remembering those words, Ronell made a miserable face and wiggled her toes beneath the blankets.

She tucked both feet tightly under the thick, fluffy quilt.

Should I just go to sleep?

Once morning comes…

No.

I should turn on the light.

Gathering every ounce of courage…

She reached out decisively and pulled the cord.

Click.

A soft glow filled the room.

She glanced at the clock—

Then froze.

Four o’clock.

“W-What?”

“How is it already four?”

“This is bad…”

“I might oversleep…”

“…Wait.”

“If this is a dream…”

“Then I don’t have to worry about oversleeping, do I?”

Unable to tell dream from reality, Ronell buried her face in her pillow.

“I wish this were real.”

Is it?

The cynical voice inside her heart mocked the thought.

She pressed her face even deeper into the pillow.

“It is real.”

Lady Aisa had said so.

And Ruby—

Aisa had kindly told her the cat’s name—

Had repeatedly smacked her arm with his tail.

As though insisting she accept reality.

It had actually hurt quite a bit.

…

Maybe it really is real.

But…

Until I know for sure…

I’d rather believe it’s still a dream.

Expecting too much…

Only makes it hurt more later.

Suddenly wanting to see Ruby, Ronell carefully peered beneath the bed.

Unlike before…

The darkness no longer seemed so frightening.

It didn’t feel as though a monster might crawl out from underneath.

Relieved, she lowered her feet to the floor.

She found the slippers and slipped them on.

They were black velvet.

Aisa had assured her they belonged to her.

Having spent her entire life wearing worn-out shoes…

Ronell had never imagined anything could feel so soft and warm.

Carefully making sure they wouldn’t slip off, she quietly tiptoed toward the door.

For a brief moment…

She wondered whether it was really okay to leave her room.

“Mmm…”

But this wonderfully sweet dream still hadn’t ended.

And…

She wanted to keep drifting along with it.

No one in this dream seemed likely to hit her.

Surely no one would punish her just for leaving her room.

However…

The moment she stepped into the hallway…

She froze.

This wasn’t anything like the cramped storage shed at House Artes.

That shed had been small.

Familiar.

Occasionally visited by mice.

The hallway of the Duncan estate…

Was vast.

And intimidating.

Even when she leaned forward to peek…

The endless rows of doors seemed to stretch on forever.

W-What should I do…?

She was afraid of walking through the hallway.

Afraid of meeting someone.

Afraid of waking someone up.

Afraid of the hallway itself.

Then—

Ronell jumped nearly a foot into the air.

“So…”

“You’re the one?”

A lazy voice suddenly spoke from nearby.