Chapter 34
“Is… is anyone there?!”
Lucien mustered her courage and shouted.
But her trembling voice didn’t carry far—it quickly faded, and only an oppressive silence echoed in her ears.
The darkness deepened by the second, swallowing even the faint silhouettes she could previously make out.
Lucien felt like she was the only person left in the world. Tears welled up in fear and began to fall on their own.
Please, someone…
Lucien wished for fire. If only she could have some light to illuminate her surroundings, maybe then the fear would lessen just a little.
“…Fire.”
She muttered softly, struggling desperately against the ropes that bound her hands and feet.
“Please… fire.”
Her plea grew more desperate. If only there were fire to light everything up.
“Help me!”
With her remaining courage, she screamed.
And in that moment, the chair that had been wobbling for a while finally tipped over and crashed to the floor with a thud.
Lucien, tied to the chair, hit her head on the ground.
Then it happened.
A red glow entered her eyes.
“…!”
A flame had quietly sparked in the center of the room, feeding on the dry wooden floor and growing quickly.
How is there a fire… on a bare floor like that?
Lucien stared in disbelief. Then she slowly turned her head, sensing someone watching her from above.
“…!”
Someone was standing in what she had thought was just darkness. The firelight eerily lit up part of the person’s face.
The first thing she saw were blood-red lips. Painted heavily… lips she recognized.
“You’re…”
She had briefly spoken to this new recruit before losing consciousness.
Had he been behind her the whole time? Watching as she screamed and trembled in fear?
Why?
As Lucien stared in confusion, the red lips parted.
“So it really was you, wasn’t it?”
“Huh? What are you—”
Before she could finish asking, the person violently grabbed her by the collar.
“Ah!”
“You started the fire! You filthy witch!”
Still bound to the chair, Lucien’s head was slammed into the floor multiple times by the force of the person’s grip.
The violence of the act knocked off the wig the person had been wearing, revealing short blond hair under a face painted ghostly white.
And finally, Lucien realized.
She had been fooled by the long hair, the red lips, and the androgynous voice—but this person was undoubtedly a man.
And she had seen that face before.
“…You’re…”
As Lucien spoke, the man—no, Blackwood—began to chuckle darkly.
“That’s right. I’m the son of the man you killed.”
“I-I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Don’t lie! I saw it! Just now—you said you wanted fire, and then it sparked up, I saw it with my own eyes!”
“That wasn’t me! I don’t know how—!”
“Then I guess my father started the fire from the afterlife to get revenge on you!”
Blackwood’s eyes were wild and unfocused as he shouted that absurd claim.
“You killed him! You killed my father! So…”
He panted, struggling to breathe, and then roughly dropped Lucien to the floor.
“You have to die the same way.”
The growing fire and thickening smoke began to fill the small space.
Just like that day…
The troupe had set up camp in an open field on the outskirts of the village.
Just the colorful wagons passing through the village center was enough of an advertisement to let people know the troupe had arrived.
Benedict, however, didn’t go straight there. On the way, he stopped by a village shop to buy food supplies and loaded them into the carriage.
Partly because he felt guilty that June had been trapped all day without eating.
And also because he didn’t want to show up empty-handed when visiting the people Lucien had once owed her life to.
The inside of the small carriage became so packed with groceries that Benedict and June had to sit pressed together on one side.
June grumbled quietly.
“There’s hardly any room to sit. And in this heat, no less.”
But Benedict ignored him and simply gazed out the window, wondering how Lucien would react when she saw this.
She’d definitely be surprised. And then Benedict planned to brag a bit about the generous duke he was.
Lucien would surely laugh and say, “What’s all this?”
Just imagining her face made something flutter sweetly in Benedict’s chest.
By the time the carriage reached the top of the hill, it began to slow down. Ahead, the colorful wagons of the troupe came into view, but the members were running around frantically.
Are they practicing something?
That was Benedict’s first thought, but when he saw Juliet running toward him from the direction of the wagons, he sensed something was wrong.
“I’m so sorry, Your Grace!”
Juliet bowed so deeply her nose nearly touched the ground as she reported that Lucien had disappeared.
“It’s my fault for leaving her side. It’s all my fault…”
“What do we know so far?”
Benedict, who had stepped down from the carriage, paid little attention to her apologies and got straight to the point.
“They say one of the newly recruited female members is missing as well.”
Benedict immediately looked to June.
“There was a woman who approached the troupe near the duchy. She was good at throwing knives, and the troupe leader let her in.”
In that moment, a chilling possibility crossed Benedict’s mind.
“Did anyone verify her identification?”
“Surely not…”
Sharing the same dread, June ran toward the wagon where the new recruit’s luggage was stored. Benedict followed close behind.
They dug through the piled bags until they found hers.
There was no time for patience—they slit the fabric open with a knife and dumped the contents out immediately.
Dried rations, a few books, worn clothing, and—
Thud. A small notebook fell at Benedict’s feet.
On the cover, written in bold letters:
Trainee Rules
And at the bottom—a familiar name:
[Blackwood]
“Damn it,” Benedict growled, biting his lip.
He jumped onto a horse without hesitation.
Though soldiers were already mobilized and would soon find leads, Benedict wasn’t about to wait. He had to move himself.
Fortunately, he had a strong guess where they might be.
They had been riding along the forest path for nearly twenty minutes. Several soldiers and June followed closely behind Benedict. The sky, once tinged red with sunset, was now falling into darkness, making it harder to see.
Are we really on the right path? That doubt began to creep in among the riders.
Just then, a breeze carried a burnt, acrid smell from ahead.
Benedict raised his head. Through the trees, faint gray smoke curled up into the sky.
“Your Grace!”
Alfi came galloping in from another direction and joined them.
“I received a report of suspicious activity near the cabin once used by the Blackwood family.”
That confirmed Benedict’s hunch.
If Lucien had been kidnapped by Blackwood, there was really only one place he’d take her:
A secluded place connected to his father—the remote mountain cabin where the Blackwood men had spent their childhood.
After racing through the trees, the group emerged into a clearing.
Flames had already engulfed the inside of the building, with thick smoke pouring out between the wooden slats. If it continued, the entire forest might catch fire.
That lunatic.
Benedict leapt off his horse before it even stopped.
Blackwood clearly wanted Lucien to suffer the same fate as his father.
But Benedict couldn’t let her be sacrificed to some twisted revenge. Lucien was someone his father had died to protect. And also…
He couldn’t even finish that thought before running straight toward the burning cabin.
Thud.
But someone grabbed him, nearly toppling him backward.
“You can’t go in, Your Grace!”
It was Alfi.
“Brother!”
Benedict tried to wrench his arm free, but Alfi held on tightly.
“Let go! I said, let go!”
Benedict thrashed, eyes fixed on the growing flames, but Alfi’s answer was unwavering and calm—almost heartbreakingly so.
“The soldiers will go in right away! The building could collapse at any moment…”
Even Alfi’s hands were trembling. Likely from fear.
“Are you insane?! You’re just going to let Lucien die?!”
Just then, someone dashed past them at full speed.
“Lu!”
June ran screaming toward the fire with no hesitation.
“That’s an order—let go! Let go now!”
Benedict struggled, desperate to follow, but Alfi only tightened his grip.
Soon after June disappeared into the flames, the fire began to rise to the roof.
Boom! A loud crash echoed from inside.
“Brother! Please!”
Benedict had now begun to beg.
Ash clung to his cheeks like soot, and even tears started to fall—but it was all in vain.
“Lucien!!”
He screamed toward the burning building.
Now even more knights joined in holding him back, and Benedict knew they would never let him go.
Because he was the Duke of Winfield.
