CHAPTER 69…………..
Ailhardt Sneyne
Ailhardt frowned as he flipped back and forth through the meager one-page document. This was all the investigation had turned up on Ailee Cabre.
She was an adopted daughter of the Cabre family, the same age as him, and—astonishingly—no noble family anywhere could account for her whereabouts. It wasn’t even clear whether she had been a commoner, a serf, or a slave. Her origins were so obscure that no trace remained, and all anyone seemed to know was that she was frail and seldom participated in social gatherings.
Such trivial details could have been gathered without wasting money or effort on an investigation. How could there be so little information? It was almost as though someone had deliberately erased her existence. Or perhaps she had simply fallen straight from the heavens.
With a loud bang, Ailhardt slammed his desk and leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t investigate the woman at all unless she left the safety of her household. As things stood, there was no chance of meeting her at a banquet or bumping into her on the street under the guise of coincidence.
That left only one option: to send an official letter to the Cabre family, requesting a proper meeting. But Ailhardt was far too impatient to resort to such gentlemanly methods. After confirming that the night sky was already shrouded in darkness, he rose and began changing clothes. His new outfit was as black as his hair, designed for agility and stealth.
“Master.”
“Don’t follow me. Don’t tell a soul.”
“But…”
“If word reaches that woman again, it won’t be your head I take—it’ll be your wife and children’s.”
The man’s face turned deathly pale at the whispered threat. He had read the sincerity behind Ailhardt’s words. Hastily nodding, he stepped aside, and Ailhardt brushed past him with a mocking smirk.
Lately, his mood had been unbearable. His father, once so easily swayed by courtesans, now questioned his worth as heir. His mother, blinded by ambition and power. And worst of all—that accursed Cabre girl, flitting about as if she owned the place.
The suffocating silence of the mansion was nauseating. With a look of disgust, Ailhardt opened the window. Then, with practiced ease, he vaulted over the sill and melted into the night.
After sending Kant back to his family, I returned once again to House Cabre. Truthfully, I didn’t care much where I stayed—whether in the cozy, quiet estate with just Rufian and me, or the bustling ducal palace filled with people. Both were safe havens where I could rest without worry.
The reason I returned this time was because Garnet had called for me. She was my teacher—the one who had passed down all knowledge required of a noble lady and helped me adapt to high society. She was also my mother. She had already noticed that there were secrets between me and Fione, and between me and Haula. Her expression was deeply wounded.
“At the very least, couldn’t you tell me when things are hard for you, Ailee?”
“No, it’s not like that, Mother…”
The reason I couldn’t tell her was obvious. The existence of demons, as well as the Cabre family’s secret, were matters reserved solely for the head of the household. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to confide in her. Garnet had always been the very image of the perfect mother I had longed for since infancy. I could never deliberately do anything to wound her heart.
But still—how could I ever tell her that I, Ailee White, had once died, only to be reborn as a demon?
Flustered, I scrambled for excuses, but in the end all I could say was:
“…I’m sorry.”
“I’m not asking for an apology. You’re an adult, and I have no intention of prying into the secrets you wish to keep. I’m just hurt… because you never once confide in me when you’re struggling. You always put on that calm face in front of me.”
“Well… it was difficult for a while. But now I’m truly fine.”
“…”
When I forced a cheerful smile, Garnet’s expression soured even more. I must have stepped on a landmine. She pouted like a sulky child—so unlike the dignified lady she always appeared to be.
“So… you mean I’m not even someone you can rely on?”
I panicked.
“That’s not true!”
“…”
“M-Mother, you’re the best in the world! It’s not that I can’t rely on you, it’s just that there are… fundamental, unavoidable reasons…”
“Oh?”
“Thank you! I love you! You’re the only one for me!”
I was sweating bullets, rubbing my damp palms on my skirt as I blurted the words. Garnet raised a brow at me, then let out a soft laugh.
“You certainly know how to flatter. I don’t think there’s anything more I can teach you about social graces.”
Was she still upset? She spoke in a cold tone, and I flinched, hanging my head—until warmth wrapped around my hand. When I looked up, she was smiling gently. Relief welled up, and I nearly teared up with the release of tension.
“I don’t know what you’re waiting for, Ailee. But if you only keep running forward, you’ll eventually collapse at a dead end and cry. Have you been able to find a little more peace lately?”
“Do I look that way?”
“You do. The hostility in your eyes has softened.”
My eyes? Startled, I touched my face. I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying around such malice. But it was true—revenge had consumed me. Even laughing, even chatting, one glimpse of a noble youth passing by would make hatred flare up inside me.
Perhaps I wasn’t much different now. But at least the hatred wasn’t as blinding as before. They just seemed… petty. Pathetic. I had learned a new kind of patience: “I will wait, and you will face your punishment.”
“You should make friends, dress prettily, go out and have fun like other young ladies. Fall in love, too. I’ve always told you to cherish connections, haven’t I?”
Still holding my hand, Garnet looked disapprovingly at my solitary habits. She often repeated this advice. She was still displeased that at the last ball—the first and only one I’d attended—I hadn’t danced a single dance with any young nobleman.
Even if I had no friends, didn’t dress up, and never went out…
“…But I am in love.”
Her smile vanished.
Sensing danger, I immediately clamped my mouth shut and clutched Poppy, the little dog lying on the floor.
“Who is it?”
“Mother, you just said you wouldn’t pry into my secrets…”
“I asked who it is.”
Something told me I shouldn’t say “Rufian.” Even if she didn’t know he was a demon, she was well aware that his true age was far older than his appearance suggested. (Not that she could imagine he was nearly a thousand years old.)
I averted my gaze, trying to dodge the question, but she was once again stern, her expression pressing me with silent authority.
“Woof!”
Just then, Poppy barked loudly and bolted from the room. Startled, I dropped him, clutching my pounding chest as he slipped through the open door.
“Oh! Poppy ran outside!”
“…”
Feigning surprise, I rushed out after him. Maybe he understood me better than I thought, running off at just the right moment.
I finally caught up and scooped him up. Servants always flinched around the dog—he’d once been a fighting hound—but they had learned that he was harmless as long as he stayed by my side. Passing a nervous maid who pressed herself to the wall, I smiled and waved.
It was chilly now; the sun had set and a round moon hung outside the window. No wonder the mansion was so quiet—this was usually the time I’d already be asleep. Was Rufian waiting in my room with blood prepared? Did he overhear when I said I was in love? The thought made me scratch my cheek.
I spoke idly to Poppy as I walked the corridor, attuning myself to the faint stirrings in the air.
“It’s already night. The day passes so quickly, doesn’t it?”
Once, sunrise and sunset had meant nothing to me. But after rediscovering time and happiness, they began to fly past like arrows. I sighed at the fleetingness and continued walking—when suddenly Poppy barked again, louder.
“Woof! Woof!”
“Huh? You don’t like being carried?”
I tried adjusting my hold, but he only barked louder, wriggling. Watching carefully, I realized he was barking toward a specific spot—at the window. I turned my head, straining my ears. The faint rustle of grass in the wind… the crunch of leaves underfoot.
No footsteps, but instinct told me—someone was approaching.
A thief? An assassin?
I swallowed hard, pressing myself against the wall. Oddly, instead of fear, a strange thrill ran through me, as though I were witnessing a scene from a novel. Was I about to catch an intruder myself? Life could be full of such adventures, after all.
I narrowed my eyes, and there—a shadowed figure in black, face hidden by a mask.
“Poppy, stay here. I’ll catch him.”
I whispered gravely. A passing servant suddenly burst out laughing.
What the—why now, of all times?
I shot him a glare, and he hastily stifled his laughter, bowing apologies. I pouted and waved him away. He disappeared down the hall, still choking on suppressed chuckles.
Then, from the direction I had been watching, Rufian’s voice rang out:
“A rat has crept in.”
“Damn it! Let me go!”
“Ah.”
…So much for catching him myself.
Disappointed, I threw open the window. A sharp wind whipped my loose hair around my face as I leaned out, tucking the strands behind my ear for a clear view.
There was Rufian, effortlessly pinning the intruder. All that effort to sneak in, and the man couldn’t even put up a fight. It was almost pitiful.
Rufian flipped him with his foot and tore away the mask.
“…Eh?”
I let out a dumbfounded sound at the sight of the revealed face.
Jet-black hair, jet-black eyes, skin pale as a demon’s, lips red as blood. The fish had walked right into the net, thrashing helplessly.
As shocked as I was, Rufian looked no less bewildered.
Yes, I had wanted Ailhardt to seek me out—but not like this. For him to recklessly break in and get caught immediately? The security of a ducal estate wasn’t so lax. What was he thinking? Did he even have an escape plan?
Ailhardt, pinned beneath Rufian’s foot, met my gaze. His eyes went wide.
The words slipped out before I could stop them, carried on the night wind:
“…Idiot.”
Daytime words have wings, and nighttime words have ears, they say. His face twisted at my insult, and I couldn’t help but laugh brightly at him.
