Episode 16
Who would dare use the room of the former duchesses without the Duke’s permission?
Walter shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the window. Outside, he spotted the Marquess’ faction crossing the garden. The Marquess’ wife, walking beside her husband, kept casting glances toward the chandelier room. Even from afar, her expression was laced with fury.
Grace, who had approached Walter’s side, also observed the distant scene.
Unlike the Marquess’ faction confidently striding through the estate’s main garden, the heads of knightly houses who had long stood by Walter were nowhere in sight. None of them had been granted entry to the estate — a scheme orchestrated by the Marquess while the Duke was away. The only person still permitted access was Walter’s adjutant, Joseph Rexton.
Standing side by side before the massive window, the man and woman shared strikingly similar expressions. Walter caught a glimpse of Grace’s reflection in the glass and muttered:
“When did you start practicing that kind of acting?”
“I didn’t practice,” she replied.
“…?”
Walter stared at her, and Grace gave a small shrug.
“In that moment, I just truly believed I was in love.”
“…”
“Your Grace—no, I’d better call you ‘Your Excellency,’ just in case someone overhears. You should try hypnotizing yourself too. Just believe, in that moment, that you’re in love.”
“Easier said than done.”
“It’s not that hard. And besides, Your Excellency… you’re quite good at it.”
Maybe it was because she played her part so convincingly. Walter gave a dry chuckle, and Grace smiled back, then smoothly changed the subject.
“The Dowager Duchess is nowhere to be seen.”
Walter’s smile vanished instantly. His dark eyes turned cold.
“She’s in the annex.”
Grace’s expression also flipped like the turn of a hand. Walter thought she looked like a warrior selecting a sword. And he was probably right.
Grace smoothed her skirt with deliberate care, then asked softly,
“Where is the annex?”
The reason Grace Taylor had to come to Richmond Estate, even if it meant becoming Walter’s lover — and his next target after the Marquess — was none other than Eliza Richmond.
Thirteen years ago, when the Duke and Duchess of Richmond died simultaneously, the succession laws dictated that ten-year-old Walter Richmond inherit the title.
At the time, everyone believed that Dowager Duchess Eliza would step up to guide her young grandson and protect Richmond.
But the trusted dowager lost her mind. Perhaps from the shock of losing her son and daughter-in-law at once, she secluded herself in a bedroom with young Walter, seemingly out of fear that he too might be taken from her. She refused to let anyone see him, save for Lady Isaac, a maid. Guards were posted to prevent even a single ant from approaching.
With the young duke’s absence, the Richmond family fell into disarray. Loyal retainers of the former duke tried to fill the vacuum, but it was a ripe opportunity for predators circling the prize.
Marquess Linco, second only to the duke in status within the family, gathered his faction and aligned himself with the Empress.
The Empress made Linco a tempting offer: that Richmond assume responsibility for guarding the Empire’s most troublesome frontier — the Wall of Death — for ten full years.
The Wall of Death was a massive barrier at the Empire’s western edge, beyond which hordes of monsters emerged. It was so perilous that even surviving one year was rare. Only criminals were normally sent there.
Ten years? It was a death sentence.
Using the Empress’s request as an excuse, Linco arranged for loyalists of the late duke and even the young duke himself to be sent to the wall. Even Eliza, for all her protectiveness, could not defy the Empress.
The plan succeeded.
Three years later, Walter returned from the wall nearly unrecognizable. Still young, yes, but already changed. The Marquess had stood on the moat bridge, waving him off with a smile that said: “Don’t ever come back.”
Then, he completely isolated the dowager and expelled all remnants of the old duke’s loyalists, replacing them with his own men.
He had awaited news of Walter’s death eagerly — even sending assassins disguised as women. But against all odds, the boy lived.
He returned a man of impressive stature, flanked by five hundred knights. Despite the assumption that the wall would have stripped him of noble dignity, Walter radiated the aura of a grand noble.
And beside him stood a woman — calm, in a cream-colored dress. Her presence beside Walter was so natural, it was unsettling.
That unsettled the Marquess deeply.
Shaking off their image, he opened the council room door himself.
There, beneath a banner bearing the blue eagle, stood the Duke’s seat — the only part of Richmond the Marquess could not control. His own seat was placed to the Duke’s right. He slumped into it and rubbed his face, aware of the watching eyes.
After a moment’s thought, he pointed to one noble and ordered:
“First, find out who that woman is. She looks noble, but with no attendants and clinging to a man’s arm like that, she’s probably from a ruined family — almost a commoner. Start by scouring the area around the Wall of Death. That’s where the Duke spent all ten years.”
“Yes, understood.”
The Marchioness trembled in disgust.
“The Wall of Death?! You can hardly call those who live near it ‘nobles’! She probably hasn’t revealed her name because her background is so shameful! And she gets the chandelier room?!”
That’s my room!
One noble, eager to curry favor, chimed in:
“Bringing such a woman into Richmond Estate is unacceptable.”
Those who had been too scared to speak under the Duke’s gaze now voiced their opinions freely. Among them was Flora’s father, Count Lowen.
“I don’t know what His Grace is thinking, but he cannot simply allow anyone by his side. I believe we must formally protest this matter. He acted without consulting us.”
The Marquess, who had been silent, now slowly scanned the room. The voices died down. He spoke in a solemn voice, as if steeling himself.
“In the past, it was we who protected a crumbling Richmond.”
“Indeed.”
“It seems His Grace has forgotten that. It’s time we reminded him — Richmond does not belong to the Duke alone.”
That’s right. Richmond belongs to us.
The Marquess repeated the words in his heart like a mantra.
Walter Richmond.
Flora mouthed the name absentmindedly, again and again.
She had never seen a man like him. Jet-black hair, sharp eyes, a chiseled jaw, and a powerful, athletic build. Even in a simple uniform with a cloak, the gold insignias that adorned his broad shoulders and chest proved he was the master of this place.
Though many nobles, including the Marquess and his wife, were waiting for him, Walter silently walked past them into the estate. A master returning home needed no words. The nobles standing on the bridge scrambled to clear a path. Flora was among them.
Who is that?
A voice echoed through the chaos. Flora’s eyes shifted from Walter to the woman at his side.
An elegant woman with rare golden hair swept into an updo. Flora’s gaze traveled along her graceful neckline and halted between the pair — Walter was holding her hand tightly.
And that wasn’t all. He would take a few steps, stop, and look back at her. Again and again. And each time, the woman would smile sweetly back at him.
Flora saw it all. That innocent act, that refined air, that feigned ignorance! Walter had clearly fallen for the woman’s charms. His normally stoic face softened when he looked at her.
The memory made Flora’s blood boil. As she bit her lip hard—
“Young Lady!”
Two maids who had led the Duke and the woman to their room rushed toward her.
“Did you find out anything?”
They scurried to Flora’s side and lowered their voices.
“That woman — she seems to be from a completely fallen noble house. Practically a commoner.”
“The Marquess has already ordered an investigation into all noble families near the Wall of Death to uncover her identity.”
At those words, warmth surged into Flora’s chest, long frozen with anxiety. She scoffed and shook her head.
“A noble in name only? Unbelievable.”
The maids, sensing an opportunity, began to flatter her.
They couldn’t risk losing the favor of the next Duchess of Richmond.
“And the girl she brought with her? She smelled funny, like a commoner.”
“I bet she begged His Grace for the chandelier room too.”
Flora listened to their gossip like it was music and put on a sorrowful face.
“That poor woman… and poor His Grace, ensnared by someone like her.”
“Young Lady… you’re an angel.”
“My father and the Marquess won’t stand for this. There’s no way that woman becomes the Duchess of Richmond.”
“Of course not.”
Flora smiled slightly and handed each maid a gold coin.
“Keep watching. Let me know anything you find.”
To be continued.
