Chapter 57
Drehan was walking down the darkened corridor.
Normally, it was rare for him to be awake at this hour.
But tonight was different. Ever since returning from a recent business trip to the provinces, his sleep pattern had been disrupted, making it difficult to fall asleep. So he had been working until dawn, processing documents that needed to be reviewed as the young lord of the estate.
Among the papers, he happened to discover a letter that should have gone to the Duke. Realizing that the deadline for a reply was urgent, Drehan decided to deliver it himself despite the late hour.
From what he knew, the Duke barely slept—so little, in fact, that one could doubt if he was even human.
Of course, Drehan knew it wasn’t by choice.
It was because of endless work, the approvals that needed his attention, and the weight of enriching the household.
Those were merely consequences of the Duke’s severe insomnia.
There was even a chilling rumor that, if not for his monstrous body, the Duke would have died of overwork long ago. Drehan himself often worried about that possibility.
Assuming that, as usual, the Duke would be working through the night, Drehan carefully knocked on the office door.
But no voice answered from within.
Wondering if the Duke hadn’t heard him, Drehan quietly turned the doorknob and entered.
Inside, the bitter scent of coffee and the sweet fragrance of cocoa still lingered.
And then he noticed—the Duke’s office chair was empty.
Perhaps he had gone somewhere else without turning off the lights?
As Drehan thought that, he moved toward the sofa, intending to wait. But then—
The door to the office’s bedroom, which was almost never used, stood wide open.
Drehan recalled that whenever the Duke did nap, it was always slumped in his chair, never in that bed. It was rare for that door to be open at all.
Still, just in case, Drehan stealthily approached and peeked inside.
And what he saw made him doubt his own eyes.
For he had never seen the Duke sleep so peacefully since his father lost his wife.
No matter what medicines or teas I gave him for his insomnia, none of them worked…
Then his eyes fell upon a small figure nestled beside the Duke.
The golden treasure of the Raies family—sleeping soundly like a doll.
A faint smile tugged at Drehan’s lips.
So that’s how it is… That child…
He gently blew out the candle on the table and tiptoed out, making sure not to wake the two sleepers.
At long last, even the Duke’s office had been graced with a night of rest.
Hoping for good dreams to come to the father and daughter who slept so alike upon the wide bed, Drehan placed the letter he had brought on the Duke’s desk and departed.
[Lord Kesil will be visiting soon.]
It was a notice of a visit from one of Raies’ collateral kin.
While the household slept peacefully, one man lay awake, consumed by rage.
Kesil—heir apparent of the Marquisate of Einhasil, master of the western lands, and collateral relative of Raies—was drowning himself in strong liquor.
And with good reason.
Before his death, the late Marquis had named not Kesil but his half-brother Daimon as his successor.
The Marquis had been senile toward the end, so people assumed he had simply confused the names of his sons.
Most of the relatives had already agreed to amend the will.
Everyone, except Duke Raies.
The same Duke who had brought that lowborn girl into the family—clearly he had lost his senses.
He insisted that the will must be respected, and supported Daimon’s succession.
What could have been resolved quickly had now dragged on for months, unresolved.
The idea that a bastard could inherit the Marquisate was intolerable to Kesil.
The thought of such filthy blood thriving within Raies filled him with disgust.
For Kesil, a staunch purist, even the Duke’s daughter—a healer—and Daimon—second-highest graduate of the Imperial Academy—were nothing but lowborn scum.
Draining his glass, he resolved that during his upcoming visit to the Raies estate, he would force a decision.
“I won’t let the opportunity I created slip away. If I’d known this would happen, I’d have made sure to get him to rewrite the will before he died.”
But regrets were useless now.
All that mattered was that once he met Duke Raies, he would set things right.
In the end, the Marquisate would be his. And when that happened, he would purge every trace of Raies’ filthy bloodline.
A twisted smile curled on his lips.
I blinked awake, rubbing my sleepy eyes.
Pulling myself out from under the blanket tucked all the way up to my chin, I sat on the edge of the bed and yawned.
It had been a long time since I’d slept so well.
The artifact’s effect had even worked on me.
I searched around the bed until I found the artifact, which looked like a pocket watch at first glance, and carefully tucked it into my pocket.
I had to return it to Zen.
“You’re awake.”
My father’s voice drifted to my ear.
He was sitting at the desk beyond the bedroom door, sipping tea and reading the newspaper.
His silver hair was tousled, his complexion clear, and his eyes bright—no trace of the exhaustion that usually lingered there. It was clear he had slept well.
“Good morning!”
I greeted him with a bright smile.
He set the newspaper aside, walked over, and ruffled my silver hair with his large hand, grinning mischievously.
“You slept like a log.”
As I laughed sheepishly, he bent down to meet my eyes, his deep blue gaze steady on mine.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve greeted such a refreshing morning.”
He tilted his head slightly and smiled.
“Thank you. I know it’s because of you. You used your healing power, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. But even then, you couldn’t fall asleep at first—I was so worried.”
“Well, the chance to hear your lullaby isn’t something that comes often.”
“If you can’t sleep again, I’ll sing for you anytime!”
“Good. Now, you must be hungry. Let’s go have breakfast together.”
Together we walked down the corridor, filled with the delicious aroma of food being prepared.
“Father? Ria? To see you two together this early in the morning is unusual.”
Miller looked surprised as he came across us.
Normally, Father never slept and began his day earlier than anyone in the estate, while I usually rose late in the morning.
Miller, dressed in his training clothes, seemed ready to eat quickly and head off to sword practice.
“Oh—come to think of it, Father, you actually slept, didn’t you?”
His eyes widened in disbelief as he noticed the absence of the dark circles that had been a fixture under Father’s eyes.
“Until now, those bags were practically down to the floor!”
“They were never that bad, Miller,” Father retorted dryly. Then, with a touch of pride, he added,
“Thanks to Raveria’s lullaby, I finally slept soundly.”
“A… a lullaby? Ria, what’s that about?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Dad couldn’t sleep, so I sang for him.”
At that, Miller looked utterly flustered.
“Then—then I want one too, Ria! Sing me a lullaby!”
His voice was dripping with childish jealousy.
But honestly, that was absurd. I remembered someone saying that Miller could fall asleep in ten seconds flat.
In fact, last time after sword training, when we lay down on the grass outside the training hall, he’d fallen asleep in less than a minute—and it had been a real struggle to wake him up again.
If I tried to sing him a lullaby, he’d probably fight to stay awake just to keep listening, pretending to fall asleep only after I’d gone hoarse by the fourth verse.
“Sorry, but Ria promised to sing only for me,” Father said with a straight face.
I never said that…
But Miller took the bait.
“What? That’s not fair! I have to hear Ria’s lullaby too!”
It seemed that, for Miller, the fact that Father had slept soundly for the first time in ages was less important than the fact he’d done so to my singing.
Both of them, after all, were known as the “cold-blooded men of Raies.”
I could accept that reputation for Father and Drehan, but Miller too? Surprisingly, outside the mansion, he rarely smiled.
Though he always smiled brightly around me, when I once saw him interacting with others outside, even I was startled by how cold his face looked.
In truth, he resembled Father the most in appearance—handsome, sharp, and icy.
As for Father, no matter if he was happy, angry, or surprised—his face was always the same.
Watching the two of them bicker over something so trivial was oddly funny.
One was a vigorous boy who fell asleep in ten seconds, and the other, until last night, had been plagued by insomnia—but was now finally able to rest.
In conclusion, neither of them really needed my lullaby.
“Big Sis! Tonight you have to sing a lullaby for Terry!”
At that moment, a little girl tugged insistently at my side.
“Terry, good morning! All right, tonight I’ll sing for you.”
Leaving behind the two sulking men staring blankly as Terry clung to me like a cicada on a tree, I headed to the dining hall.
“See you later!”
After all, the one who truly deserved my lullaby was right here.
