Chapter 116 …

It was Jun who finally broke the long silence.

He lifted Liliana, who had collapsed on the floor crying uncontrollably, helped her to her feet, and entrusted her to another troupe member before approaching Benedict.

“It would be best if you stepped aside for now.”

Unable to refuse the polite request, Benedict turned his heavy steps and walked outside.

It seemed that news of Simone had already spread to everyone. From various places came the sounds of people sobbing or sighing in grief.

“I apologize for my sister’s rudeness, Your Grace.”

Jun, who had followed him out, bowed politely.

Benedict shook his head. In the end, he knew better than anyone that her words had not been wrong.

After a moment of silence, Jun spoke again.

“To be honest, I feel the same as my sister.”

“I see. I suppose I do too. Nobles are…”

Benedict had barely begun to answer when Jun shook his head before he could finish.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about Lucien.”

“……”

Benedict felt as if Liliana’s earlier cry echoed again in his ears.

That Lucien needed to keep enough distance from Benedict before she was hurt…

It was something Benedict himself had thought about not long ago that night.

Inside his body lived a monster, and that monster desired Lucien alone.

Before that terrible thing took complete control of him, he had thought he should send her somewhere safe.

“…I—I…”

So perhaps this was a good opportunity to make a firm decision.

If he sent Lucien back to the troupe—

“…No.”

Benedict shook his head before he could even finish the thought.

He simply couldn’t do it.

If he did, Benedict felt he would die—not from illness, but from longing.

Yet even that feeling felt shameful to him, as if it were merely the selfish heart of a noble.

“Trust me, Jun. I will never make Lucien sad.”

“Your Grace, what we fear is the situation Lucien is in.”

The situation?

Benedict clasped his hands tightly, waiting for Jun to explain.

“The only reason Lucien can call that place her home is because you allow it.”

“……”

“No matter how hard Lucien tries, no matter how much effort she puts in, it doesn’t matter. With just a single word from you, everything becomes possible—and at the same time…”

“Everything… can collapse?”

“Yes. In the end, everything can be denied by just one word from you. You have that much power. To be honest, we had forgotten that fact for a long time.”

Everyone had been charmed by Benedict’s kindness, and for a while they had all overlooked an important truth.

From the beginning, traveling troupe members were barely treated as human.

So even if they suffered unfair treatment from a noble household, there was nowhere they could complain.

“We know how dangerous that place is for Lucien. That’s why, before things become truly irreversible, we ask that you send her back with your own hands.”

Before things become irreversible…

What kind of situation was Jun imagining?

Did he believe that Benedict might wound Lucien’s body and heart, just as the baron had done to Simone?

Did Jun truly believe something like that was possible?

“I…”

Benedict looked steadily at Jun.

“I love Lucien.”

He spoke slowly, placing weight into every syllable of the sentence.

Perhaps it was not the answer Jun had expected.

Jun’s eyes widened in surprise, and he could not respond.

“You said before things become irreversible, right?”

Benedict gave a faint, painful smile.

Whenever he thought about his feelings for Lucien, it always made him like this.

Perhaps it was because his heart had grown larger than the body that contained it.

“I’ve already passed that point.”

“…That feeling cannot last forever.”

Jun stepped closer as he spoke.

Benedict did not step back.

“Because you are ultimately a noble.”

“I know. But I wasn’t granted eternity… not even the amount of time most people have.”

Benedict’s illness progressed faster than that of any previous duke.

Once, a doctor had carefully warned him that he might not even have ten years left.

And even that estimate had been considered generous.

“So giving my short life to Lucien… really isn’t such a great sacrifice.”

Benedict gently placed his fist over his heart.

Even just speaking about Lucien made his heartbeat quicken until breathing became difficult.

“I swear. In every moment, Lucien will be the standard by which I make my choices.”

“Does that mean… she would come before the family that people like you worship?”

“Yes.”

The answer came quickly.

But it was not spoken lightly.

Though the family had allowed him to be born, Lucien had stayed by his side, keeping him from sinking into the darkness of illness.

Because of her, Benedict had been able to live as himself until now.

“Perhaps it’s the same for you, Jun, but I…”

Benedict gazed deeply into Jun’s green eyes and spoke with complete sincerity.

“Lucien is important to me. Even more than myself.”

After saying this, Benedict felt a strange sensation.

He had realized his feelings for Lucien long ago.

But those feelings had always remained carefully folded inside his heart.

Now that he had spoken them aloud to someone, they felt far more real.

No matter what happened, Lucien would come first.

There was a terrible possibility that naturally surfaced whenever he thought about the words no matter what.

But Benedict suppressed the thought out of habit.

Because that would never happen.

No… even if it did…

His conclusion had already been made.

Jun’s lips twitched as if he wanted to ask something more, but in the end, he remained silent.

“And…”

Benedict thought again of Simone’s death.

He couldn’t endure simply doing nothing.

“I will make the baron take responsibility.”

The troupe members had said Simone’s death would mean nothing.

But Benedict refused to let it remain that way.

“You don’t need to push yourself. Protecting people like us won’t bring you any benefit, Your Grace.”

“I’m not doing this for benefit!”

Benedict clenched his fists, anger swelling inside him.

“She—Miss Simone—she meant something to me too! Not just her, but all of the troupe…”

But now, perhaps that was only Benedict’s own belief.

Simone’s death had likely made the existence of nobles feel undeniably foreign to them.

And Benedict had no right to argue against that.

“…I’m sorry.”

He offered the bitter apology and glanced back toward the carriage where Simone rested.

It seemed some troupe members had been listening to their conversation.

Several had come outside.

Among them were Liliana and Elsie.

Benedict bowed to them.

Then he turned to board the duke’s carriage.

Jun followed him and grabbed his wrist.

“Your Grace… will you truly never change?”

The emotions in Jun’s question were painfully clear.

Unable to ignore such sincere concern, Benedict straightened and looked directly at him.

“I won’t change.”

Jun studied him silently before releasing his wrist.

“I hope… that at least you will truly prove different. So that I can believe that forever.”

It sounded like he was gently setting aside the emotions he had revealed earlier.

Benedict nodded again—to reassure him.

Jun turned and walked back to where the other troupe members were waiting.

Benedict boarded the carriage and headed toward Baron Milburn’s mansion.

* * *

The scene at the mansion had not changed much since the morning.

In fact, it seemed worse—since the sound of relatives arguing could be heard all the way to the entrance.

“Y-Your Grace.”

When Baron Milburn noticed Benedict, he looked startled, as though he had not expected him to return.

It seemed the baron had been drinking heavily with friends.

The unpleasant smell of alcohol filled the air.

“My office.”

Benedict said the words abruptly.

The baron hesitated but guided him there.

Benedict had not particularly wanted to realize just how lazy the baron truly was.

But the moment they entered the office, the truth became painfully obvious.

Dust clouded the windows, as if the room had not been used for a very long time.

Perhaps the servants hadn’t even bothered to clean it properly, knowing the master rarely entered.

On the desk near the window there were no documents or ink.

Instead, there were dice and a gambling board.

Spilled wine had left dark stains across the surface.

Benedict glanced at a document carelessly stacked on the assistant’s desk.

The baron hurried forward and stuffed it into his coat.

“That’s confidential.”

But Benedict had already seen what was written in the document.