CFLBF CH 03

That night, the Duke of Balmon’s estate was thrown into chaos.

Cedric, the shining star of high society and the precious heir of the ducal house, returned to the mansion without a carriage or escort—covered head to toe in mud and in a completely disheveled state. The butler who first discovered him froze so completely he couldn’t even scream. His expensive ox-leather shoes were torn at the heels, and his legs looked as if he had rolled through thick mud all the way up to his calves.

“Young master! Good heavens—have you been attacked by bandits?”

The butler’s shocked cry woke the sleeping estate. Soon, servants gathered one by one.

In the midst of the commotion, Cedric sat on the sofa in the reception room, led there by others like a patient who had suffered some grave incident. A blanket was draped over his shoulders, and urgent voices called for a doctor from all directions.

Even amid the chaos, Cedric only stared blankly into space, as if he were in another world.

“His body temperature is too low! He won’t stop shaking!”

“Was it bandits? Or assassins? Young master, please—say something! What on earth happened to you?”

Unable to bear his silence, those around him pressed him further. Cedric, still dazed, slowly lifted his head.

“You ask what happened?”

The fireplace burned more fiercely than ever, casting a yellow glow over the pale face of the master of the house.

His green eyes looked almost amber under the light. With a gaze flickering like madness, Cedric spoke quietly.

“…I was saved.”

“Pardon?”

The butler let out a foolish sound in confusion. The physician reached out, thinking the young master might have hit his head, attempting to check his eyes. But Cedric violently slapped his hand away and stood up abruptly.

“Saved. I found the answer I have been searching for my entire life—only tonight did I finally find it.”

His sudden outburst plunged the room into silence. As everyone looked on cautiously, Cedric looked down at his trembling hands.

People had already tried to warm him with fire and blankets, but this trembling was not from cold. It was closer to overwhelming vitality—something like that.

“Young master, please calm down and take this medicine…”

The physician offered a tray of sedatives, but Cedric mercilessly knocked it away. The glass shattered on the tiled floor. Shards flew, and red liquid spilled across the ground. Cedric ignored it all and strode toward the stairs.

“Everyone out! No one is to enter my room!”

It was a wild, uncharacteristic roar. Servants hesitated but quickly cleared the way. Cedric marched into his room, slammed the door shut, and bolted it.

He immediately tore off his ruined coat and threw it aside. Grunting as he kicked off his completely torn boots, he collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

His lips trembled. His hands shook uncontrollably like a fool’s—but this humiliating sensation felt overwhelmingly good. Because he was certain this was what he had been waiting for all his life.

The emptiness and suffocating thirst he had felt while drifting through high society existed only to lead him to this moment.

This vivid sensation—every nerve screaming that he was alive—sent burning waves through his body.

As if submitting to fate’s call, Cedric slowly placed his hand over his chest and accepted the strange pulse rising through his fingertips.

He could never return to that cold, hollow existence again. That was no different from hell—living while already dead.

He would never forget this feeling. No—he must not forget it. He would feel it again. He would claim it completely.

And so, that night, Cedric stared at the rising sun with sleepless eyes and made his decision.

He would marry Lavinia.

Moriss, the butler responsible for managing the household of the Balmon ducal family—the most prestigious house in the kingdom—was a perfectionist recognized by all.

He believed he had experienced everything a person could experience while managing the vast ducal estate with absolute precision. No matter what incident occurred, he thought he could handle it calmly without surprise.

But what happened last night was beyond even him.

The strange groans from outside the young master’s room, the sound of objects breaking, and the following deathly silence—Moriss had spent the entire night awake, running through countless scenarios in his mind.

‘Was he attacked and injured? Did an old illness relapse? Should I inform the Duke immediately?’

But the matter was delicate.

The master of the house disliked anything related to the young master’s past illness, while the Duchess reacted far too sensitively. Because of this, Moriss had kept the servants silent and covered up last night’s events—but now things could no longer be ignored.

Finally, he made his decision and stood up to go to Cedric’s room.

At that moment—

BANG!

The door, which had been tightly shut all night, suddenly burst open as if waiting for it. The butler nearly screamed.

There stood Cedric—completely transformed. Gone was the ruined figure from last night. Instead, he looked pale, elegant, and refined. Though his eyes were sunken from lack of sleep and his face was paper-white, his presence was sharper than ever.

“Butler.”

“Yes, y-yes! Young master, how are you feeling?”

“How many mines are under my name?”

Moriss thought he had misheard. Was mental instability manifesting as financial inquiries? Still, he responded quickly with professional discipline.

“Eh? Ah… yes. Including the northern ruby mine, there are three in total. But why do you suddenly ask about mines?”

“Select the two most profitable ones. Those with high loyalty among the territory’s people and where judicial authority is fully under the ducal family’s influence.”

“Select them… for what purpose…?”

“As a gift.”

Moriss’s fingers trembled. Not simple management—but transfer of ownership. And not just land, but territory bound by judicial authority?

Such a thing only happened in marriage. No—was there even a woman in this kingdom worthy of such a dowry?

Or… was he trying to buy someone?

Moriss’s eyes wavered in confusion.

At that moment, Cedric added as he descended the stairs:

“And where is Lady Lavinia staying?”

“…She is currently residing in the detached palace. But young master, you should not be going anywhere right now. Rest is your priority.”

But Cedric ignored him completely and continued down the stairs.

“Send word to the lady. I will attend today’s lakeside picnic. I will personally escort her, so prepare the carriage.”

“Young master, your condition—”

A sharp warning followed the repeated objections.

“I said it already. I am more sane than I have ever been.”

Cedric turned, holding the banister, and looked at Moriss. His hollow eyes contrasted with a burning intensity within them. Even Moriss, who had seen much in life, felt a chill run down his spine at that gaze.

“That… is not the look of a sane man…”

He almost tripped on the stairs.

“Also, I hear Prince Philip will accompany the young lady this afternoon, and a carriage has already been prepared.”

“Philip?”

Cedric narrowed his eyes. A belated realization crossed his face, as if saying, Ah, right. That person existed.

Normally, he would never dare oppose a prince, but to the current Cedric, Philip was nothing more than an obstacle on the road to his burning love.

“Turn him away.”

Cedric spoke casually without stopping.

Moriss hurried after him in disbelief.

“Pardon? What did you just say…?”

“I said to divert Prince Philip’s carriage away from the detached palace. Fabricate an urgent message from His Majesty, or remove the carriage wheel—anything. While the royal carriage is diverted, send mine in. The lady must end up boarding my carriage in confusion.”

“Young master! That is equivalent to impersonating the royal family! If you are caught—!”

“If my personal safety concerns you more than royal law, then report me immediately. Otherwise, follow my orders.”

Cedric cut him off coldly and descended into the first-floor hall. Before leaving, he paused to check his reflection in the mirror with utmost seriousness.

“By the way… do I look alright?”

“Pardon? Ah… yes. Your dignity remains intact, but perhaps you should rest a little more—”

“No, not that vague answer.”

Cedric interrupted without taking his eyes off the mirror.

“I am asking whether I look pitiful enough. Like I might collapse at any moment, yet still somehow endearing.”

Moriss was speechless. “Pitiful” was not a word one would expect from someone who had just ordered royal deception.

But Cedric was serious. He adjusted his tie slightly, studying the shadows under his eyes.

“If I look too well, it will not work. The lady must pity me. I want her to see my condition and worry.”

“Worry…?”

Moriss was already worried—but not in the way Cedric meant.

Before his concern could be voiced, Cedric hummed lightly and turned away.

“Now, let’s go. I must reach the detached palace before Philip’s carriage arrives.”