Chapter 72
As if she knew even my petty feelings, she extended her hand to me—so naturally.
Truly like family.
Cecilia was a strong person, strong enough that even someone like me, who had never experienced familial affection, found myself wanting to lean on her, rely on her.
It was because she was this kind of person that I had no choice but to love her even more.
Leo stared at the outstretched hand for a long time.
The hand he had longed for so deeply.
A hand he had once wanted to take and never let go of.
“…You really are a cruel person, my lady. But at the same time, you’re amazing.”
Cecilia tried to smile, doing her best to act as usual.
“I know.”
“You’re someone I can’t help but like.”
Cecilia’s eyes widened.
He bowed his head.
Thump.
His hand gently struck the nape of her neck.
In an instant, her eyes glazed over, and her body slumped forward, powerless.
“Leo, you…”
Her final whisper faded into nothing.
Leo carefully embraced her waist and pulled her into a gentle hug.
Because from now on, he could never stand by her side again.
Because he could never hold that hand again.
He placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
Amid the scent of blood, her breath lingered, faint and warm like a flower.
“…So please, forgive me for this much.”
He whispered those words, then walked slowly into the darkness, still holding her in his arms.
At that time, the temporary estate was in chaos.
Pierre, having realized too late that Cecilia was gone, stood in his office, unable to hide the sharp energy in the air.
Ian, who had just returned from searching every corner of the estate, cautiously spoke.
“She’s not in the estate. It looks like she slipped out past the guards.”
Pierre wordlessly pressed a hand to his eyes.
Rage surged within him, nearly enough to cloud his reason, but he managed to steady his breath and suppress the fury.
Richmond.
That vivid name flashed through his mind.
The box of documents Richmond had handed over today.
There must have been something inside.
Something that could shake Cecilia—something probably related to Leo.
Damn it, I should’ve checked it before giving it to her.
He had let his guard down.
Because Cecilia had been quiet lately, he had momentarily forgotten the kind of person she was.
When it came to family—when it came to matters involving her own house—she would throw herself in without hesitation.
So she had been the target all along. That was the point.
He had thought it strange how easily Richmond had backed down.
It was all predictable.
Pierre bit his lip hard.
Blue veins rose on the back of his clenched fist.
Ian, bowing his head deeply, spoke cautiously.
“It was my mistake. I’ll organize a search party immediately.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than someone burst through the door outside. It was a knight of the household, panting and flushed.
“M-My lord!”
“……”
Pierre’s cold gaze turned on him. The moment the knight met his eyes, he flinched.
He had never seen Pierre this angry before.
Ian asked the frightened knight.
“What is it?”
“T-The horse… Lady Cecilia’s horse is gone from the stable.”
Nosha. That was Pierre’s warhorse.
If she hadn’t wanted to leave any trace, she would have taken another horse.
She clearly wanted someone to find her.
Pierre casually strapped his longsword to his waist and gave an order.
“Gather all available knights. If she rode a horse, she likely crossed the mountain. Spread out as wide as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
It had already been four hours since she disappeared.
The fact that she hadn’t returned yet meant this wasn’t just a simple outing.
It was likely something had happened to her.
Without hesitation, Pierre grabbed his sword and headed toward the stables.
Then—
A scream rang out at the entrance.
“Who goes there?! Identify yourself!”
A voice sharp with alarm.
Pierre and Ian turned their heads simultaneously.
Ian instantly drew his sword and pushed through the guards.
Pierre narrowed his eyes and quietly stared toward the source of the commotion.
A man’s silhouette stood before the guards in the dark.
And in his arms—someone limp.
Pierre’s breath caught in his throat.
He moved forward, as if in a trance.
The person in the man’s arms.
A delicate body, pale and still.
“…Cecilia.”
It was Cecilia.
As he drew closer, the man’s face emerged from the shadows.
A blood-soaked robe. Stains of red smeared on his hands.
At the center of it all stood Leo.
Pierre rushed forward and snatched Cecilia from Leo’s arms.
Kneeling on the ground, forgetting all decorum, he examined her face.
Thankfully, she was breathing. No visible external injuries.
But the dried blood on her hands sent a chill through his chest.
A low voice fell from above.
“Don’t make a fuss. She just fainted for a moment.”
Pierre furrowed his brow tightly, silently staring at Leo.
Leo looked down with impassive eyes, but his shoulders were trembling slightly.
“That blood. What happened.”
Leo’s hands, his face, even his robe were marked with blood.
The metallic scent of blood lingered.
Pierre stood up, still holding Cecilia.
“It’s not my blood.”
“……”
“The young lady met with Richmond. When he didn’t get the answer he wanted, he sent assassins to kidnap her. I killed them.”
His voice was flat—no inflection, no emotion.
But his eyes were a cruel red. The eyes of someone who had been to a place beyond return.
“If I stay here, she’ll be in danger. Please, protect her.”
He paused briefly, then pulled an old leather pouch from his robes and tossed it in front of Pierre.
It hit the ground with a heavy thud. Its worn, oil-less surface bore the marks of long use.
“This has no use to me anymore. As much as I hate to admit it, you’ll make better use of it.”
Pierre did not pick it up, but glared at Leo.
“I heard enough. Judging by the situation, it sounds true.”
Pierre stopped Ian from approaching.
Ian stayed where he was, watching cautiously from a distance.
“Are you planning to kill Richmond?”
Leo’s eyes gleamed faintly in place of an answer.
Pierre didn’t look away.
Those eyes—repressed and worn down, a beast trained solely for killing.
“Don’t be reckless. If you really want to die, fine. But don’t drag Cecilia’s guilt into it. If you must die, do it after everything is over.”
At those words, Leo’s eyes twisted as if slashed open.
He ground his teeth.
“Don’t act like you know everything. You’re just an outsider.”
The words rang out like a scream, dredging up every despair he had kept buried.
He had been a runaway slave. Richmond’s assassin.
Once, he didn’t even have a name—just a number.
And now, someone who could never dare stay by Cecilia’s side.
Pierre didn’t reply directly.
Instead, he quietly looked at Cecilia’s limp hand, then turned back to Leo.
“If that’s what you think, then stay. If you’re gone when she wakes, it’ll be a problem.”
Pierre’s brow furrowed bitterly as he spoke.
As much as he hated to admit it, Leo was Cecilia’s family.
Even Pierre couldn’t deny that.
Leo let out a small, soft laugh.
It wasn’t mockery or arrogance.
Just faint satisfaction.
“That’s your problem, not mine.”
He slowly turned his back.
The hem of his black robe fluttered in the breeze.
Leo took quiet steps forward and spoke calmly.
“Well, this isn’t so bad. At least now, she’ll never be able to forget me.”
His steps stopped.
Then, in a low murmur, he added:
“Let’s see how well you do—staying beside her while she can’t forget me.”
There was no sarcasm or resentment in his voice.
Just a sorrowful farewell, tangled with love and guilt.
All Pierre could do was quietly watch his retreating figure disappear.
Only the faint scent of blood lingered where he had been.
