Chapter : 55
“Well… I think it’s irresponsible.”
“Irresponsible… you say?”
Shylo’s voice rose slightly at the unexpected answer.
“Why do you think so? Isn’t it romantic? That play is currently the most popular in the entire country. Ah, I’m not criticizing it.”
“Here’s the thing…”
Roxana chose her words carefully and then calmly shared her thoughts.
“I feel like they’re turning their backs on everyone and running away under the guise of love. Of course, for them, it might be intense and heartfelt enough to risk even their lives… but afterward…”
“Afterwards, the people left behind,” Shylo finished for her.
Surprised by his understanding, Roxana nodded.
“Yes. There are many people around them who care for and love them. Should they protect that love even if it means betraying and abandoning all of those people? Couldn’t there have been a way to persuade and reconcile, even if it took more time…? That’s what I think.”
Shylo, who had been listening intently, suddenly praised her.
“Interesting!”
“Eh?”
“I didn’t expect that answer. I thought you were truly romantic.”
His voice was soft, yet there was a sharpness beneath it. Roxana, sensing an unspoken tension, quietly observed him. Shylo, meanwhile, turned away from her to watch the play nearing its conclusion.
“Miss, have you ever heard about Curtis’s past?”
“Past?”
“Yes. Have you ever heard the full story?”
“…No.”
She knew he had led a mercenary group and earned great achievements, clearing his family’s name and regaining their honor. In fact, it was a story known throughout the country. But she had never heard the details. Curtis rarely spoke about his past, and she felt the same. Bringing it up would be like stabbing each other with invisible knives.
Yet, she was curious. That night when she had impulsively worn the white mask, and he had called her Tessa while burying his face in his knees like a young boy… she wanted to know what kind of past he had lived through.
But…
“…Curtis is—”
“Sir Shylo.”
Before Shylo could continue after lowering his voice, Roxana interrupted him.
“I’ll hear it when I want to, directly—from him.”
Otherwise, it would mean nothing. Hearing someone’s past through another’s words wasn’t right.
“You probably won’t tell me anyway.”
“That’s fine. But at least, I don’t want to hear his story from anyone else but him.”
“…I see. Understood.”
Shylo smiled faintly at her firm refusal and got up, brushing off his seat. Roxana followed his movement with her gaze.
“Stay a little longer.”
“No. Curtis would be upset if he saw me.”
Shylo gestured to the left. Following his gaze, Roxana looked at Curtis sitting beside the princess, whispering something into her ear. Seeing their closeness, she instinctively placed her hand lightly on her chest.
Shylo, observing Roxana quietly, suddenly spoke with a thunderous statement.
“You like His Highness.”
“…”
It was the second time she had heard this. She was glad she was wearing a mask, at least keeping her ruined face from being seen by anyone else.
“Keep hiding it as you are, Miss.”
Shylo whispered dryly, then added quietly:
“Someday, that feeling will become a poison that consumes both you and His Highness. After all, you are Roxana Dalton.”
Roxana Dalton.
“Well… I guess you already know.”
His words pierced Roxana’s heart like a dagger. After taking one last look at her, sitting quietly like a mounted deer, Shylo left. A persistent gaze lingered behind her as she was left alone.
Feeling the gaze, Roxana turned toward it.
“Were you talking to someone? Who was it?”
Curtis, who had gotten up from the princess’s side and returned to his original seat, spoke. Roxana hesitated for a moment and made an excuse.
“Oh, it was someone I don’t know. Maybe they mistook me for someone they knew.”
The gaze hidden behind Curtis belonged to none other than Enock. His eyes, fixed on the red hair, shifted toward his cousin.
“Government.”
“That’s right. By the way, I don’t see that Melanie woman anywhere.”
Derrick, speaking passionately, complained.
“She tried to seduce me. She called me out at night. But that damn man cut off my ear.”
The more Derrick spoke, the narrower Enock’s eyes became. Melanie. That was the woman. Why did she have red hair, and was it even a wig? He didn’t know.
“Wasn’t that woman your cousin?”
“Yes. Seems she went abroad again. I was hoping to cause some trouble.”
Something felt off. Enock had a strong sense that these two were hiding something very important. Melanie. Cousin. Now ‘government’?
“So forgive me for calling you there yesterday. I didn’t know you’d hate it that much… Enock?”
Curtis whispered instructions to a nearby knight. Derrick, astonished, placed his hand on Curtis’s shoulder but shrank back under his cold gaze.
After giving the instructions, Enock turned to Derrick and quietly asked:
“So what were you trying to say?”
“Hailrett decided to marry that guy.”
“Marry?”
“I don’t know if it’s pride or if he’s truly smitten, but he asked me for help.”
The plan was simple: during the festival, make their marriage a fait accompli.
Though it was a rule to remain masked and unaware of each other’s identities, royalty—especially a princess of marriageable age—was an exception.
On the festival’s last night, the plan was to get Curtis drunk and let him approach the princess while ensuring the king witnessed it.
If that happened, Curtis would have no choice but to either die or marry the princess.
“You agreed to help? Then we’d be related.”
“Ha, of course not. I agreed to help, but that doesn’t mean—”
Derrick continued, laughing slyly.
“Do you think he’d willingly choose marriage? He’d probably just ask for death. That’s all I want.”
“So why are you telling me this?”
Derrick, holding back his anger at Enock’s dismissive gaze, confessed plainly:
“Find out where that Melanie Taldon hid. I want to watch that woman and that guy’s necks hang… ugh! …Enock?”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. Derrick, grabbed by the collar, blinked in confusion.
“Listen carefully, cousin.”
“….”
“You can conspire with the princess as you like, but if you touch the woman beside him…”
Through the mask, Enock’s blue eyes were filled with lethal intent. Derrick shivered and hiccupped.
“Keep it reasonable. Don’t make a scene.”
Then Enock released Derrick, turned, and got up.
“E-Enock!”
Derrick shouted several times from behind, but Enock didn’t look back. As he moved away from the crowd, Baron Boden, one of his attendants, followed.
“You told me to investigate the government of the Marquis, right?”
Enock only nodded. The ankle he had held was still vivid in his memory—the trembling, rain-soaked body and the long, delicate lashes.
“Was there something suspicious?”
“No. Anything else to report?”
Enock sharply denied any doubt and looked intently at Baron Boden. Lowering his eyes, the baron began:
“Ah, yes. About the newly inherited marquisate…”
Marquis.
The familiar word stirred a strange sense of déjà vu. Enock whispered the name that came to mind.
“Marquis Dalton.”
“Yes?”
The baron tilted his head at the long-buried name from memory.
“The deceased Marquis Dalton—why now…?”
“The deceased…”
His old fiancée.
The name he had scarcely spoken while she was alive. He had given her no affection or attention, erasing her from his mind when he heard she was dead. Hesitating, Enock quietly asked again:
“What did that deceased daughter look like?”
“Roxana Dalton… you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Well… I only saw her once.”
“Do you remember?”
The baron paused, lost in thought, then after a moment of silence, a smile appeared on his face as he spoke quickly:
“Red-haired. Red-haired she was.”
Time seemed to stop. Enock, frozen like a statue, confirmed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Just the hair color. But why…”
“Investigate Roxana Dalton. Bring everyone who knew her, who saw her face. Especially anyone who worked at the marquis’ estate.”
The baron was stunned by the sudden order. From investigating a government mistress to a dead former fiancée? He couldn’t understand the duke’s mind.
“But… she should be buried, reduced to bones by now.”
“Who saw her directly?”
“Of course, those who led the army back then…”
“Marquis Curtis.”
Enock interrupted the baron. Curtis Russell. Marquis. The fragmented pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting together. That explained why she had seemed strangely familiar the first time he met her.
Clenching his teeth, Enock commanded with grit:
“Find out immediately. Even if you have to dig up the grave!”
