~Chapter 63~
Blake snapped back to his senses.
Tired civil servant… no—Blake shook the thought away.
“This isn’t the time to be spacing out.”
Up until now, his exhaustion had mostly been mental.
Nobles with enormous feathered hats passed him by, and he couldn’t even tell whether they were cursing at him or not. Maybe half of them really were pointing fingers, but what good would it do to snap back with “What did you just say?” There’d be no way to pin down the culprit anyway.
This schedule, though, was different.
This time, even his body was worn out.
It was brutal.
Seven parties in a single week.
Wearing black mourning clothes had one advantage—if he stayed tucked away in a corner, people often failed to notice him. Still, it was undeniably grueling. And if it was this hard on him, Lily must be even more exhausted.
“Do you want a massage?” he asked.
Lily was leaning against one of the balcony pillars when he spoke.
She refused immediately.
“No, thank you. It’s scary.”
“A massage is scary? That’s a new one.”
“It’s your massages that are scary,” she said calmly. “You’re terrible at controlling your strength.”
Blake was about to protest when the ghosts of countless shattered wine glasses flashed through his mind. He shut his mouth.
Waltz music drifted out through the balcony doors and into their ears.
It was a rhythm Lily knew well—her body swayed automatically. The kind of dance where a man and woman barely had to move once they were close.
She gently rocked in place, then looked up at Blake.
After a moment, she held out her hand, as if inviting him.
“I heard the most beautiful person here was on this balcony,” she said lightly. “Would you grant me the honor of one dance?”
Blake’s face stiffened like he’d just heard something utterly ridiculous.
But Lily smiled at him—soft, playful—and that made resistance impossible.
“Come on,” she added. “Who else would I tease like this if not you?”
She curled her finger with mock solemnity. Blake sighed, shook his head, and took her hand.
The ballroom they’d slipped away from was packed with people in gowns and formal wear. Beneath the massive chandelier at the center, couples danced in graceful circles. Around them lingered the unlucky ones without partners, awkwardly hovering or accepting drinks from passing servants. Some talked business. Others, palace officials, quietly worried about work the next morning.
And yet, on the balcony—completely detached from that world—the dance continued.
Blake and Lily moved only their feet, barely lifting them at all.
It was the dance of exhausted civil servants.
Still, it was enough.
“Truly magnificent dancing,” Lily said, either teasing him—or maybe not.
Today marked the end of their schedule in the capital.
She hadn’t been able to attend Count Fox’s funeral… but she’d done more than enough of what was expected of her.
In truth, there was no funeral.
No one held one for him.
Even his own family treated him like a stranger. No chapel was contacted. No prayers were recited. His death notice wasn’t even placed so people could come and pay their respects.
He did appear in the papers—but for entirely different reasons.
“Count Fox found dead…”
“Did shame drive him to an extreme choice?”
“Autopsy expert reports no clear signs of homicide.”
Lily thought quietly,
Ah… what a pitiful man.
Perhaps, in another life, they might have gotten along.
Their marriage hadn’t been born of love, but how many noble marriages were? They could have lived politely, respectfully. If his smaller issues had been resolved, maybe they might even have had a child—arguing over who the child resembled as they grew old together.
But Count Fox was dead.
And Lily had become a fugitive of sorts.
As endings went, it wasn’t a good one for a married couple.
“What are you thinking about?” Blake asked as they continued their slow dance.
Lily kept her eyes closed, then opened them, bright.
“If I’m honest, you might get angry. So I’d rather not say.”
“What kind of thought would make me angry?”
“…My poor husband.”
Blake immediately unleashed a string of vicious curses, showing absolutely no respect for the dead.
Lily quietly made the sign of the cross, just in case.
“I mean his death is pitiful,” she said. “No matter who it is, the end of a life is something to mourn.”
“You wanted to die once, too,” Blake said suddenly.
It struck deep.
She had said it before—said she’d rather die.
It was something they’d always need to confront eventually.
Blake desperately wanted her to live. If her heart hadn’t changed, that truth would have been unbearable.
“I’m okay now,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yes. Jianna wakes me up every morning with noise and chaos. There’s always something that looks like tea and something to read. Winter Castle doesn’t even get newspapers… but do you know what they give me instead?”
Blake frowned. “No idea.”
“A stack of papers with messy handwriting,” Lily said, her voice warm. “They take turns writing about their lives. One article is about someone who got bitten by a snake as a child and then pretended to be a snake-man for years. One of the maids once broke the clothesline while hanging on it and secretly replaced it with the neighbor’s before her parents noticed.”
“And then?”
“They got scolded by everyone.”
“As expected.”
“I really like them.”
That was why Lily had started wanting to live—just a little.
People had once been the reason she suffered. That people could also be the reason she found hope again felt almost miraculous.
“And… I like you, too.”
She meant it purely as trust.
But the mood shifted anyway.
Naturally.
The sky had fully darkened, stars glittering as if competing with one another. They had slipped away from the noise, alone together on a balcony, dancing.
What could be more romantic than that?
Blake and Lily faced each other.
Time passed.
No one spoke—and it seemed neither planned to.
“….”
Whose breathing was that?
A moment ago, she might have known.
But not anymore.
Blake lifted her chin, closing the distance between them until their breaths mingled—barely a finger’s width apart.
Up close, Lily studied his eyes.
They always looked fierce. While other nobles tried to cultivate gentle expressions, Blake often did the opposite, scowling as if daring the world to challenge him.
His mouth, too—when he pulled it tight in irritation, no one dared argue. He’d sealed six contracts that way alone.
So many words have come from those lips…
Those same lips had ordered her out of Winter Castle once.
But they had also defended her loudly in court, and told her to choose whatever clothes she liked.
And then—
Their lips met.
There was no clear beginning. They simply moved closer until they overlapped.
The music beyond the door was still loud, voices blending into meaningless noise. Any worry that someone might walk in felt distant—Lily was completely shielded by Blake’s body.
His hand at her chin was warm and solid, oddly reassuring.
The warmth between them felt… good.
Eventually, they parted.
Their reflections filled each other’s eyes.
They were both stunned.
Neither had expected this.
It must have been the magic of the night.
“This is…” Blake started, faltering.
Did he really like Lily?
He’d denied it so fiercely—and now all that effort collapsed in an instant.
Before he could think any further, Lily spoke first.
“Nothing happened.”
This time, she didn’t reject him. She was just as confused.
Because she didn’t want to reject him.
“People will be looking for us. Let’s go back.”
Blake hesitated, then stayed silent.
She looked startled—but not displeased.
That meant… something had changed. Even if only a little.
As Lily reached for the balcony door, she suddenly stopped.
Blake’s reflection in the window was bright red.
“Cool it down, you idiot,” she said.
“It’s cold.”
“It’s spring.”
“Then why does it feel like this? Has the world gone mad?”
Back in the ballroom, they deliberately kept their distance, focusing on others.
A noblewoman in an enormous hat approached Lily.
“You’re not together right now.”
“Pardon?”
“With the Duke,” the woman clarified. “He’s usually glued to your side. I’ve seen it—two days ago, three days ago. I’ve been accepting every invitation since my leg finally healed.”
She was one of the women who recognized Blake’s true value.
Meaning—his looks.
As she smiled enviously, Lily found herself glancing at Blake again.
