~Chapter 23~
Floria kept glancing sideways at Caspar, brushing her hands over her arms.
It wasn’t because she had goosebumps—there just wasn’t the creepy atmosphere she had expected.
You know that uneasy feeling you get in a graveyard, like someone’s watching you?
Here, there was none of that.
The only reason she felt a chill was that she was wearing a thin dress. She’d been excited, thinking that maybe this “date” would lead to a nice steakhouse like last time.
Caspar finally stopped “enjoying the fresh air” and turned to her.
“The garden up ahead—it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
As he’d mentioned before, the entrance to the cemetery had a large garden that was pleasant enough for a stroll.
Maybe that’s why the cemetery itself didn’t feel gloomy—it was right next to that beautiful garden.
It was a lovely garden.
The only problem was that it was next to a cemetery.
Caspar looked out at the graves with a soft, nostalgic expression.
“Isn’t it beautiful? Not lonely at all.”
…Did he just say the cemetery was beautiful?
Floria wasn’t sure if he meant the garden or the graves, but given it was Caspar, either was possible.
“Ah, yes.”
Trying to understand him was pointless. She decided to filter his words in her head and just answer vaguely.
Still, if she let the conversation continue, he’d probably say more strange things, so she quickly held out the bouquet of yellow freesias he’d given her earlier.
“By the way, Your Grace, why the flowers?”
It was the only topic she had on hand to change the subject.
Looking closely, the yellow freesias matched the color of his eyes. Maybe that was on purpose.
When he was playful, his golden-yellow eyes shone brightly—sometimes, if he was serious, they looked like they had flecks of pure gold.
Caspar’s gaze moved from the space between the tombstones to the bouquet in her hands.
His empty-looking eyes lit up slightly as they landed on her holding the flowers.
“Ah, I picked them from the garden here. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
Floria’s smile instantly vanished.
…She’d actually been smiling without realizing it. But now, her expression went completely blank.
So much for being touched—she almost threw the bouquet back at him.
“I don’t want them anymore.”
“I’m joking.”
“Even as a joke, I don’t want them.”
He caught her slim wrist, smirking mischievously.
Why was he always smiling? Did he really have that much fun?
In a moment, he’d taken both her wrists, still smiling like he was enjoying himself way too much.
Floria sighed.
At least he wasn’t hurting her. His grip was firm but gentle—no marks, no pain.
Still, when he’d first brought the flowers, she had been a little moved—her heart had even raced.
She felt pathetic for letting Caspar, of all people, make her feel that way, but it had happened.
Now, of course, he’d ruined the moment.
She pulled her wrists free, turning away from him—a rude move for a mere priestess in front of a duke.
But she knew he wouldn’t punish her for it.
As she turned her back, he asked suddenly:
“Floria, since we last met… have you been inside the prayer room?”
The prayer room? Why bring that up now?
“…The prayer room?”
She froze. Luckily, since her back was to him, he couldn’t see her face.
She had gone inside—to get Rose out.
Her shoulders trembled slightly, and Caspar noticed, though Floria herself didn’t realize it.
“No? We’re not supposed to go in there, right?”
She tilted her chin up, trying to look confident and innocent.
Just remembering how he’d cornered her last time about simply peeking inside the prayer room still made her break out in a cold sweat.
She didn’t want to get caught again—especially not now.
“I see.”
“But why do you ask?”
His answer was short. If he wasn’t suspicious, then why bring it up?
“No reason. Just wondering if anything strange happened in the annex.”
“No, not really…”
…Well, except for one thing.
The statue is disappearing from the prayer room.
And come to think of it—Caspar had been there the day the statue was still in place.
Her gaze dropped from the sky to him.
“Your Grace… do you remember the statue in the annex prayer room?”
Her heart pounded. Whatever his answer was, she was sure it would be important.
She had definitely seen that white-haired statue—it wasn’t her imagination.
Caspar’s gaze slowly traveled from her face to her clenched fists.
“…”
His gloved hand took hers and carefully unfolded her fingers one by one.
Her palm was damp with sweat, her nails leaving red marks in her skin from how hard she’d been gripping.
“So, you did go in.”
His voice cut straight through her.
Floria stared at her open hand, unable to meet his eyes—she was sure they were sharp and piercing right now.
She couldn’t lie to him.
“…Yes.”
He let out a slow breath.
“Floria, you really can’t lie. You could never do anything evil.”
She wanted to argue—wasn’t telling someone to break their boyfriend’s skull evil? But she held back.
“Your words can be a bit harsh, though.”
Definitely not a match for her.
“That thing is the annex’s ghost.”
Floria’s head snapped up.
“It’s real?”
“Of course. It’s a troublesome one.”
He said it so casually, but the look on his face twisted, like he’d remembered something unpleasant.
Floria frowned. How did Caspar know so much about this “ghost”?
The priests only ever spoke vaguely about it, but Caspar seemed to know details.
Maybe high-ranking nobles could enter the annex and learn more?
If the statue she saw was the ghost, why hadn’t he said so before?
Before she could figure it out, his deep voice pulled her back to the present:
“It likes beautiful things.”
He looked directly into her emerald-green eyes.
“So… be careful.”
