CHAPTER 92…………………………………………
Awareness
He had merely closed his eyes and opened them again. Naturally, it should have been around dawn.
Yet absurdly, the sun was sinking beyond the vast Maleka mountain range that encircled the capital.
What did I see?
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but nothing changed.
Lowering his gaze, he saw servants bustling about the courtyard below, busy preparing dinner. It was a scene no different from any other evening.
The only thing that seemed different—slightly outside the bounds of normal—was himself.
His body felt strangely light. Had he slept all day? How could that be possible, when he usually slept only two hours at most in a day?
Forgetting that he had meant to call someone, the duke hastily shut the window, wary of being seen, and returned to the bed, sinking into thought.
He had been lingering in front of Anje’s room late at night, close to dawn. It truly felt as though he had only dozed for a moment, yet now it was late afternoon with the sun already setting. It was so baffling that it felt as though someone had stolen the time between dawn and afternoon.
Ever since returning from the war, staying up all night had been routine for him, and even on good days he slept only an hour or two. Who could have imagined that he might sleep for so long?
“Your Grace, did you call for me?”
After a brief knock, the voice of Max, the butler, came from outside the door.
“Come in.”
The butler entered the room wearing the same expression as always, as though nothing were amiss. Yet the way his eyes subtly swept over the duke was cautious.
“What happened? Unless someone put drugs in my dinner last night, does it make any sense that I’d be asleep until this hour?”
“Who would dare commit such a heinous act against Your Grace’s food? And forgive me for saying so, but even if something had been added, it wouldn’t explain this. As you know, countless physicians visited after your return, and you took every different prescription they gave, yet all of it was for nothing.”
The butler was right.
Though he had forced the idea in his confusion, the duke himself did not truly believe someone had drugged him into sleep.
Then what, exactly, was going on?
“Where is my mother?”
“She gave strict orders that no one was to disturb you and then went out. She should be returning shortly—”
“And Anje?”
“She went out with Her Ladyship.”
At that answer, the duke felt relieved. Given the momentum of the previous night, it had seemed as though she might march straight up to him and hand in her resignation. That she was out with his mother was, if anything, fortunate.
“But this place… doesn’t seem like my room. What’s going on? Why was my room changed without permission?”
A flicker of bewilderment crossed the butler’s otherwise composed face.
“Well… that is—”
Before he could even answer, the butler wiped cold sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and cautiously gauged the duke’s reaction.
On this matter, even he had little to say. Combining the rooms of two people—without the consent of the one he served, and without that of an unmarried young lady—was utterly improper and against all decorum.
“This was originally… that is, Miss Anje’s piano room.”
Flustered, the butler misspoke, referring to Mariana’s piano room instead, but neither he nor the duke realized what exactly had gone wrong.
“This morning, by order of the dowager lady, Your Grace’s room went under extensive renovation.”
“Renovation?”
The room had been perfectly comfortable—renovation made no sense.
The duke furrowed his brow, demanding an explanation. The butler continued, unable to hide his discomfort.
“Your Grace’s room is furnished with dark wood throughout, so it is rather dim overall, is it not?”
“But that room was my late father’s. I deliberately preserved it as much as possible to honor him. Why suddenly now?”
“The dowager lady said that because the room had been left untouched for so long, it had fallen out of fashion, even though it is, in name and fact, the room of the head of the household. She also worried that, with so much wood, it could be dangerous if sparks from the fireplace were to fly.”
Though he had spent many winters in that room without such an incident ever occurring, the duke chose not to say so. By now, he had realized that renovation was not the true reason he had been evicted from his room and relocated to the piano room.
“She wishes to replace the floor with marble before winter and brighten up the bathroom as well. Today, she said she would go to the department store to look at furniture and curtains, then stop by a dress shop, watch a play, and return late.”
Yet contrary to the claim that she would return late, the sound of a carriage stopping outside the window rang out the moment the butler finished speaking.
Sure enough, the dowager lady’s light footsteps were heard, and the door swung open.
“Joseph, you’re awake. Did you sleep well? You look wonderful.”
She greeted him without the slightest concern for the butler’s presence.
A morning greeting delivered in the late evening—there was a certain temporal dissonance to it. Still, the dowager lady seemed even more refreshed and cheerful than on an ordinary morning.
“…Where is Anje? I heard you went out together.”
“Anje had something to take care of and stayed behind for a bit—”
Did she pretend to go out and then run off?
The dowager lady looked as though she had more to say, but without hearing the rest, the duke abruptly rose from his seat and hurried toward the lower floor. He had entirely forgotten that he was still dressed in a thin sleeping robe.
His hurried steps toward the stables came to a dead stop when he ran straight into Anje, who was coming out of the kitchen.
When Anje reflexively lifted her gaze, surprise flickered in her black eyes before settling back into her usual calm.
“You must be quite fond of that sleeping robe….”
“Didn’t I tell you that going out without permission wasn’t allowed?”
“I went out with the dowager lady and came back. Surely you heard?”
“This outfit—it’s not because I like it….”
After several exchanges that barely qualified as conversation, the duke noticed Anje’s look of exasperation and closed his mouth first.
He couldn’t very well say that he had panicked, thinking she’d made excuses and disappeared far away. Instead, he raised a hand and covered his face, belated self-loathing washing over him.
Last night, instead of standing guard, he’d fallen asleep leaning against Anje’s door. Then, just because she showed her face a little late, he hadn’t even listened to her explanation and had caused a scene. What on earth was wrong with him?
The duke’s ears burned red behind his covered face. Self-reproach, shame, and other nameless emotions churned inside his chest—but the woman before him would accept none of them.
“Do you have no sense of shame? Be grateful the servants are busy preparing dinner. If it were me, I’d hurry back to my room before anyone saw.”
Just moments ago she had been glaring at him, but now Anje looked up at the sky as she muttered irritably.
What was he supposed to do with a wooden bear like this? Completely deflated, the duke was about to turn away when—
“So… are you feeling all right?”
Surprised by the uncharacteristically gentle question, the duke turned back toward Anje—just as her small, cold hand landed on his forehead.
“Everyone’s happy that you finally got a proper night’s sleep, but I’m a bit worried.”
“About what?”
After confirming that his temperature was normal, Anje slowly withdrew her hand.
“From appearances, I may seem more injured, but it was you who actually ran around and fought. Isn’t it often the unseen wounds that are worse than the small ones you can see? Especially since you’ve been pushing yourself so hard lately. I kept worrying that you hadn’t fallen asleep in front of my door, but collapsed instead.”
A man with insomnia falling asleep leaning against her door hardly made sense. It was far more plausible that exhaustion had caused him to briefly lose consciousness.
“Hah.”
Should he be pleased that she was worried about him, or stunned by such an absurd concern? Or should he be moved by her unexpected understanding—that invisible wounds might be worse?
Meanwhile, his fickle heart leapt at the mere touch of her hand, and his face, already flushed, showed no sign of cooling, only growing hotter by the second.
Seeing the duke’s steadily reddening face, concern spread across Anje’s own.
“Have you seen a physician?”
“Can’t you tell by looking at me? I just woke up—when would I have had time to see a doctor?”
Irritated at how flustered he was all by himself, and his pride stung, the duke snapped back.
Only then did Anje realize that the duke was still dressed in an outfit that was barely any different from being half-naked, and she belatedly flushed red herself.
