Chapter 58
The duke didn’t answer my question right away, and I didn’t press him further.
I just assumed there must be some reason that was difficult to say aloud.
“I received an invitation.”
“An invitation…?”
“Count Seymour sent a personal invitation to the ducal house. The Seymour family…”
The duke’s gaze dropped as he continued.
“They’ve long had close ties with the House of Kreyman. For generations, the Seymours were excellent business partners, and our two families maintained active relations. Because of that, even when I was very young, I would occasionally take part in those gatherings.”
A bitter smile touched the duke’s lips, as though recalling those times. I looked at him in silence.
“Among them, the person I was closest to was the Countess of Seymour, the late count’s wife. Since they had no children, she cherished me as if I were her own, showing me kindness and comfort. I had never experienced such warmth before, and I came to truly like her.”
As he reminisced, a faint smile appeared again on his lips. He went on.
“Later, when the former empress—at the time, the crown prince’s fiancée—entered the palace after her marriage, the countess became one of her ladies-in-waiting. But when her husband’s health worsened, she left the palace and returned to their estate. Soon after, a rebellion broke out.”
At the word rebellion, my shoulders jolted. Jack’s face flashed in my mind.
“The former empress and the countess had been close friends for a long time. When the royal family fell, the countess was deeply stricken with grief. To make matters worse, her husband passed away that same year from illness.”
“…That’s a sad story.”
I answered softly, and he gave a slight nod.
The light from the street lamps outside the carriage flickered in through the window. His face was half in shadow.
“With no heir, the countess inherited the title herself. Shocked by the loss of her loved ones, she cut off all ties with others. Rumor has it she also fell ill with a difficult disease.”
“And yet… she sent you an invitation.”
“Yes. And she addressed it to me personally, by the name Dietrich—not as the Duke of Kreyman.”
“…Would it really be all right if I accompanied you to meet someone so important?”
I asked anxiously.
Even from what little I’d heard, I could sense how significant today’s meeting would be.
And I couldn’t help but worry whether I truly belonged at such an occasion.
Contrary to my concerns, the duke nodded lightly.
“Of course. You, too, are someone important to me.”
“Ah… yes. Thank you.”
His unwavering reply stirred something strange in me.
For a moment, it felt as if I really had become someone precious to the duke.
When the story ended, I rested my chin on my hand and looked out the window. The carriage, having left the bustling streets behind, was now climbing a mountain road.
Count Seymour…
I struggled to hide the bitterness that crept into my expression.
In the book, Count Seymour ultimately dies. The cause is never revealed, so even knowing the original story, I had no way to prevent it.
If Count Seymour dies, the duke will be heartbroken.
Just imagining his grief weighed heavily on my chest.
“…It’ll be all right.”
I murmured quietly.
I could feel his gaze on me, but I didn’t look back. If our eyes met, he might see the turmoil inside me.
Only—
“Yes.”
His low reply almost made me want to cry.
“Soon we’ll arrive. It would be best to put on your mask now.”
As the carriage neared the Seymour estate at the mountain’s peak, the duke spoke.
Following his advice, I lifted the butterfly-shaped mask to my face. But tying the ribbon was far more difficult than I expected.
When I couldn’t manage it and kept fumbling, the duke finally stepped in.
“I’ll tie it for you. Turn around.”
“No, it’s fine—”
Clatter.
I was about to insist when the carriage jolted. The mask, which had been precariously hanging on, slipped and fell.
I stared at it helplessly, while the duke chuckled faintly, picked it up, and sat down beside me.
“…Then please.”
Resigned, I turned my back to him. He gently placed the mask over my face. When his fingertips brushed against my cheek, I flinched involuntarily.
Whether he noticed or not, he seemed focused only on tying the ribbon. But strangely, he was taking a long time.
Suspicion began to creep in.
Could it be… the duke isn’t good at tying knots either?
“…Not as easy as I thought,” he murmured, almost confirming my suspicion.
The problem was that his lips were much too close to my ear.
“I-I’ll do it myself!”
Warning bells rang.
From my side, that is.
This man—doesn’t he realize how dangerous he is?
With that face, that voice, leaning in so close—what woman in the world could endure it?
I thought he was oblivious to things like this…
Apparently not. Just moments ago, I’d clearly felt my emotions begin to surge out of control.
I need to be careful.
If I let these feelings slip, he might avoid me.
For the children’s sake, I can’t let my own emotions drive a wedge between us.
With that thought, I hastily tied the ribbon in a messy knot. Somehow, it held.
“There. Haha.”
It was pulled too tight, making my face feel stiff, but I didn’t show it.
Instead, I flashed him a bright smile, doing my best to hide the unrest inside me.
Clatter.
After another jolt, the carriage came to a full stop. When the coachman opened the door, the duke extended his hand to me.
“Let’s go, Ciela.”
“…Yes.”
Before I could settle my emotions, I found myself touching him again. Carefully, I took his hand and stepped down.
The Seymour estate, where the masquerade ball was to be held, exuded an old-world charm. Vines clung to the wooden walls, and the occasional chirp of insects could be heard.
The overall atmosphere was cozy, made all the more so by the dim lighting.
“Please show your invitation.”
The knight at the entrance requested. The duke presented the card.
Since it was a masquerade, no names were written on the invitations.
Once the authenticity was checked, the knight let us through.
Inside, many guests had already arrived.
Wow…
The masks reminded me of the underground auction, yet the atmosphere was completely different.
There was no strange, intoxicating scent dulling the senses.
It really feels like another world.
People weren’t just hiding their faces—they had chosen themes and dressed accordingly.
Some took on fairy-like appearances, while others disguised themselves as youths. Here, they were free to play roles they couldn’t in everyday life.
“Shall we go in?”
I nodded at the voice that roused me from my daze, and we stepped forward.
The ballroom felt distinctly unlike an imperial banquet. Even the lighting carried a faint violet hue.
The dancing, too, wasn’t limited to refined waltzes—many couples were joyfully performing folk dances.
Others sat at prepared tables enjoying food, or laughed loudly in lively conversations. Some couples slipped quietly onto the terrace and drew the curtains.
The mood was worlds apart from the stiff formality of the imperial gatherings, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“Ciela.”
“Yes?”
I lifted my head at the sound of his voice. The duke released my hand, then extended it toward me instead, bowing courteously.
“Would you grant me this dance?”
“…Your Grace?”
“I doubt I’ll have another chance to dance with you like this. But if it makes you uncomfortable, feel free to refuse.”
Startled, I blinked wide eyes at the duke, who seemed different from usual.
Is it the mask?
Normally, he disliked drawing people’s attention—likely because of the rumors surrounding him.
But here, no one knew he was the Duke of Kreyman. Whatever he did, no one would gossip.
And for me too…
I usually had to be mindful of the emperor’s gaze. But in this place, I felt free.
“…Gladly.”
I slowly laid my hand atop his. He clasped it firmly, his other arm circling around my waist.
Just then, the music shifted to a waltz. It seemed the musicians rotated through different genres.
The folk dancers withdrew, and couples swept into the center for the waltz. We joined them.
I fixed all my attention on my feet. Though I had confidently accepted his offer, the truth was—I didn’t know how to dance.
Of course I didn’t. I’d never had the chance to learn, so being good at it would have been stranger.
As I carefully moved, fearful of stepping on him, his gentle voice drifted down.
“There’s no need to be so tense.”
He must have sensed my nerves.
I gave a sheepish smile.
“I’m terrible at dancing. I’d hate to step on your feet.”
“You can step on them.”
“…What?”
“If it’s you… I wouldn’t mind being stepped on again and again.”
…No, Your Grace. At that point, I’d be the one who couldn’t handle it.
I wanted to make a playful retort, but his golden eyes and earnest tone made it impossible.
