#8. Klein Riden
Hugh Gray had been unable to sleep properly all night.
The scent of Klein Riden that had brushed past his nose seemed to have seeped into his brain, leaving his head throbbing.
In the end, at dawn, he gave up on sleep and headed to the Second Archive, wondering if there might be any overlooked records about side effects related to the marking.
The Second Archive was a hidden section within the First Archive, a place where all records concerning the wolf beastkin House of Ulphaz were stored.
Originally, beastkin had been extremely few in number, and over the long ages they had continuously intermingled with humans. Now, aside from the apex predator species, most had gone extinct.
Humans had come to believe that beastkin emperors and kings only existed in history or legend.
They had no idea that the bloodlines of the imperial family, royal families, and the highest nobility were still maintained exclusively through beastkin.
It was obvious that if humans learned their rulers were a small number of beastkin, they would revolt.
Thus, the remaining beastkin had agreed to allow humans to believe they were extinct—and even to encourage and reinforce that belief.
Something they had reached unanimous agreement on, despite never agreeing on anything else.
For that reason, records concerning beastkin in House Ulphaz were classified, and the Second Archive was strictly off-limits without the lord’s permission.
However, even after thoroughly searching the documents, Hugh found nothing new.
More precisely, there was no mention anywhere—no matter how hard he looked—of a side effect in which, after marking, the marked individual might mistake the scent of others, especially men, for their partner’s scent.
If anything, reading the records only deepened his sense of self-loathing.
On his way back to his room in that state, he saw the source of the problem.
Klein Riden—the very provider of the new complication that was pouring oil on an already burning fire.
He was standing at the end of the corridor.
Hugh watched him closely, finding his behavior strangely suspicious.
Klein seemed completely absorbed in something, setting down two large bags he had been carrying before carefully closing his room door over several seconds.
So carefully, in fact, it looked as though he were praying while holding the doorknob.
So focused that he didn’t even notice Hugh standing right behind him.
And then—what?
Leaving this early in the morning?
It was absurd.
He no longer needed a male attendant who could speak Tigrium anyway, and the reason Klein had been kept around—his lack of scent—had become meaningless.
Because this man was now emitting the strongest scent of all.
To think someone kept for lacking scent would turn out to be overflowing with it.
If anything, he should have been expelled immediately.
So whether he left in the morning or at night didn’t matter at all.
He should just be told to go. Naturally.
But the problem was…
Why had this scent, which never existed before, become so unbearably strong?
And why, of all things, was it not unpleasant?
Not only that—it made him want to drink it in…!
Was he insane?
Drink it?
In fact, the thirst burning his throat made it hard to tear his eyes away from Klein’s neck, as though he wanted to bite into it immediately.
He was even frightened of himself—so much so that he had to step back.
He had lost his mind.
The side effects of the marking could only be described as severe. To produce such deranged physical reactions toward a man…
He needed to find a woman. And that man needed to be removed from the household immediately.
So he told him to leave.
And Klein Riden actually left.
Without ever once looking back.
He really left.
Well.
That strange side effect had been physically resolved at least.
Because it only occurred with that man.
To resolve this unbearable thirst, all he had to do now was find a woman.
The problem had become simple.
Good. Yes, good.
Hugh stood for a moment, staring at the staircase where Klein had disappeared, then nodded to himself as if accepting his situation, and turned back toward his room.
He paused.
But his feet moved again on their own, and his eyes drifted to the doorknob Klein had touched.
Why had he handled the door as though it were a delicate glass ornament?
That thought crossed his mind.
Without really thinking, he reached out and turned the doorknob Klein Riden had so carefully handled.
“Ah!”
The moment the door opened, a thick, overwhelming scent flooded out, enough to make his vision blur.
It was a suffocating fragrance.
And yet, strangely, rather than rejecting it, his body was drawn into the room as if pulled by a powerful magnet.
The room was empty.
Only a bed, a nightstand, and a small wardrobe remained.
And then…
His eyes landed on the bedding.
Before he knew it, he was walking toward the bed and lifted the pillow as though in a trance.
A stronger scent lingered there.
What on earth was this feeling?
Thirst? Longing? Heat?
He couldn’t tell.
“I’ve completely lost it.”
He muttered the words through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the pillow.
It was absurd that he, the duke, would fall into such an incomprehensible state in the room of a male servant who had worked beside him for months.
There was no other explanation but the side effects of the marking.
These symptoms had clearly begun the day after the marking.
If so, once he found his marked partner, this insanity would disappear.
It had to.
The damned rut after marking didn’t just come monthly—it was said to be far more intense than before the marking.
If he failed to find his partner before the next cycle, the situation could become dangerous.
And yet, he was reacting this strongly to the scent of a man.
The pillow in his hand was now completely crumpled.
It mirrored his own mental and physical state.
“Damn it!”
He threw the pillow onto the bed.
“…!”
But his sharply contorted gaze widened the moment the pillow landed.
“What… is this.”
Something had caught his eye.
He picked the pillow up again.
It wasn’t a mistake.
There really was something there.
A few thin strands of gold.
No—what he had thought were threads.
He carefully lifted them to eye level.
They were not threads.
“Blonde.”
Golden hair.
Hair that could never belong to Klein Riden, who had short brown hair.
Klein Riden had stayed in this room for three months.
And no other servant cleaned this room.
So why was this here?
He brought the strands closer and sniffed them.
The same scent.
So identical that it was impossible to tell whether it belonged to Chloe—the woman he had marked—or to Klein Riden.
A powerful scent that instantly drilled from his nose into his brain.
Clenching the golden hair tightly in his hand, he headed straight to the steward Wilson’s room.
Meanwhile, Chloe had left the duke’s estate and gone straight to the information guild.
“Klein, long blond hair, blue eyes, height 168, Arne, ‘Night of Dogs and Cats.’”
The guild member repeated her information.
“Yes!”
“The client is the House of Ulphaz.”
“Yes!”
“Why is the duke looking for this woman?”
“Pardon?”
Chloe was speechless.
“Shouldn’t you explain what exactly happened? Did the duke and that woman sleep together or something?”
“W-what?!”
Chloe’s voice cracked in shock at the guild member’s blunt guess.
“What’s so surprising? A man looking for a woman—what else would it be? Either he slept with her or wants to sleep with her.”
“That’s not it at all!”
Chloe raised her voice in protest.
She found the assumption that there were only two reasons a man would look for a woman utterly ridiculous.
But her raised voice cracked—because, unfortunately, one of those two reasons might actually be correct.
“Hmph! Whatever. Fine. We’ll report back to the duke’s estate once we find her.”
The guild member snorted at Chloe’s flushed reaction.
It felt as though the guild member was saying, “So you already slept with the duke.”
Chloe hurried out of the guild building.
At last, she could go home and escape this crisis caused by one reckless night.
“…!”
That is, if Hugh Gray, Duke of Ulphaz, wasn’t standing right outside the building.
The moment she stepped out and turned, Chloe froze rigidly like a statue.
Of course—it had seemed too easy.
The duke stood at the entrance of the information guild alley.
Like a gatekeeper.
As if saying: try passing if you can.
The only way out of the alley was through that entrance.
So as long as he stood there, Chloe could not leave.
His intention was clear.
He was waiting for her.
Or more precisely—he had come to take her.
But why?
Fear ran through her entire body.
Why did he look like he had come to capture a criminal?
“D-Duke…”
A weak voice escaped her throat like a starving mosquito.
“Klein Riden.”
He only called her name.
It felt as though the words come here now followed right after.
Was this what it felt like to be cattle led to slaughter?
Step by reluctant step, Chloe walked toward him.
“Your Grace, what brings you to the information guild alley…?”
“Let me guess. Since it’s the information guild, I must have come to make a request. Why don’t you tell me what that request is?”
His voice cut her off, cold as ice.
Her lips felt frozen shut.
“If you’re here about the woman you’re searching for, I just—”
“A woman? No. That’s not it.”
“……”
The duke said “no” three times.
Chloe swallowed hard.
“This time, I’ve come to ask about a man instead.”
“A man…?”
Her mind spun.
Had she been found out?
She had thought everything would be fine once she returned home—but was it already too late?
The duke stared at her sharply.
She couldn’t meet his gaze and looked away—but had no choice but to look back when he spoke again.
“Klein Riden. I need information on a man by that name.”
“…!”
So it really was about her.
The woman he had been searching for was her—and now the man he was investigating was also her.
“You said you have no sisters. But you do have one. Why did you hide that fact? Will you tell me yourself—or shall I ask the information guild?”
“…!”
Ah. Her “sister.” So that was what he found out.
At least it meant he hadn’t discovered she was a woman. Only that she had lied about her family.
“I’m returning to the estate.”
Leaving Chloe, whose mind was in chaos, in the alley, the duke turned sharply, mounted his horse, and rode away.
Should she run?
A reckless impulse surged through her.
It was absurd, foolish, and impossible—but her body was already turning in the opposite direction from where the duke had gone.
