~Chapter 24~
The moment he opened the door, he felt the cool freshness of a forest. The suffocating stench of blood and decay seemed, if only briefly, to be washed away by the flood of clean air.
Grace turned her head toward him. Wrapped in the ruddy glow of the fireplace, she looked as if she were haloed in flame, her clear green eyes shining with warmth as they met his.
“Your Grace.”
The tender sound of her voice tickled at his fingertips.
Leaning his back against the door, Walter let out a laugh that was half a sigh.
Why are there so many things that shake me?
He raked his face roughly with one hand. Eliza’s ghostlike image—like a remnant of a fallen nation—had torn open his old memories, stripping away his mask. And once that mask was ripped away, it never easily returned.
The soldiers who stood upon the walls of death had a secret name for Walter: the Iron-Blooded Duke. His wild, reckless aura of killing intent stood in stark contrast to the blank mask he always wore. Wherever he passed, the corpses of monsters piled up like mountains, their blood flowing like rivers.
But when he had spent all that madness inside himself, the duke would lock himself away for days at a time. Only after that would he return, wearing the mask of reason once more, immaculate as if nothing had happened.
Walter hated anyone approaching him before his reason returned. Not even Joseph was permitted into his rooms before at least the following morning.
“I’ve come because I have something to tell you.”
Grace spoke calmly, explaining her business. Walter exhaled faintly, almost inaudibly, and then abruptly flung the door open.
“Y-Your Grace!”
The spy Joseph had by the scruff of the neck turned desperately to Walter, hoping the duke might be less terrifying than the brutish Joseph Rexton. But that flimsy hope shattered in an instant the moment Walter’s devilish face appeared.
Walter slowly grasped the spy’s neck and spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t open your mouth. Just listen.”
“……”
“Three in the right corridor. Two in the left. And you. Six in total.”
“!!”
“If I see you again, I’ll have you hanged.”
“Your Gr—”
“I told you not to open your mouth.”
“Gah—kugh.”
Tightening his grip until the spy choked, Walter only released him when he felt the light from the fire at his back.
The man staggered away, face white as a sheet, only to be blocked again by Joseph’s looming frame.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t speak again.”
Walter said nothing, simply returning to his chamber and closing the door.
Grace stood straight and still, watching him quietly. Unlike Walter—who had become a monster just to survive—she remained calm even in the face of such savagery.
Her grape-green eyes were clear, almost too clear. And that clarity struck something inside him. With a twisted voice, Walter asked:
“How is it… that you remain so calm?”
He tugged open the choking collar of his shirt and strode toward her, menacingly. Yet still, Grace did not retreat. This was nothing like the composed mask of reason he usually wore, but not a flicker of fear crossed her face.
Stopping just one step away, Walter’s predatory gaze pinned her.
“Tell me, Grace. How are you so calm?”
“Do I look calm to you?”
“……”
“Or is what you really mean—how have I endured this long without going mad?”
Walter said nothing, and she held his gaze, unflinching, her voice a whisper.
“Because you were alive.”
Walter unconsciously stopped breathing at her words.
“There were times I wanted to collapse. Times I wanted to set fire to the beds of those who rattle Taylor to its core. When I stood beside the empress’s nephew in the chapel, the same woman who killed my parents. When they clasped a necklace of tribute around my neck.”
Even before that—when they dared to name Jack Saxon as my betrothed—the rage inside me burned my very bones.
“Even then, I repeated the same words to myself.”
“……”
“You are alive.”
She had never even truly seen his face, never properly spoken with him.
And yet Grace had always felt his presence. Knowing there was someone, hidden in the shadows, fighting for the same goal—that alone gave her strength.
On the day she would finally meet him, she had to be someone worthy of fighting beside him. Not a helpless creature, pitiable and useless.
“You have been my guidepost. My anchor. For a very long time.”
“……”
“You’re the reason I’ve endured.”
Flames flickered in her eyes. If he understood the years she had spent waiting, he would not ask such a question.
“So you must endure as well.”
Her voice pressed low and firm, and Walter felt the wild storm inside him ease.
“What I want isn’t only revenge. I want Taylor restored—the rock of the Empire, the golden wheat fields of our name. I want to inherit my ancestors’ legacy. For that, Your Grace, you must be a sovereign worthy of my loyalty.”
Walter understood what she meant.
I’ve trusted you all this time. Don’t disappoint me.
Their eyes met, deep against deep.
Grace realized that black was not one color but many. His eyes, once raging like fire, now slowly cooled into something solid, like obsidian.
Without knowing why—perhaps just from habit—she let out a light laugh, like air slipping through a crack. He blinked in disbelief, then gave a similar crooked laugh of his own.
“Hah.”
The twisted sound was more sigh than chuckle.
But the mood had shifted. Grace pulled her shawl more tightly around herself and finally spoke of the matter that had brought her here.
“The marquis and his wife are about to take the bait—me.”
Walter tossed another log into the fading fire.
“Today, the marchioness and Flora Lewen came to see me. They fished for your background, so I gave them nothing but your name.”
Grace told him about the maids’ insolence and how Flora had set them to spy on her. Then came a knock, and Jessie’s voice through the door.
“My lady, it’s Jessie.”
Grace glanced to Walter for permission.
“May I let her in?”
Instead of answering her, Walter called toward the door:
“Enter.”
Jessie stepped in, her face dark with unease. She glanced between them both before reporting.
“I managed to tail the maids, but I wasn’t the only one watching them. There were others, following in secret.”
“And?” Walter prompted.
“When the maids reached a deserted corridor, those men revealed themselves and dragged them into a room.”
Grace and Walter’s eyes narrowed at the same moment.
“Dragged them into a room?”
“There were lookouts outside—I couldn’t get close. I can’t be certain, but…” Jessie hesitated, then rushed her words when Walter’s sharp gaze fell on her.
“I think they might be assaulting them. I heard a faint scream.”
Silence dropped heavily over the three of them.
Sometimes she imagined it. What if she could see the future? What if she could return to the past?
But no. Those were only fantasies. What she could do was set a goal, gather information, predict, and act.
Back in her chandelier-lit room, Grace sat at her desk out of habit.
“So… the maids who served me dinner have been imprisoned, perhaps assaulted, within the castle…”
There was no doubt the Marquis and Marchioness of Lincourt were plotting something. But with this little information, it was impossible to predict exactly what.
She forced herself into deeper thought, reviewing the grand plan, the order of steps, the timing of events. When at last she lifted her head, she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror on the desk.
His words echoed in her mind.
Do I look calm…?
Grace slowly touched her face, then tried to smile. A poised, graceful smile came automatically—an elegant mask that revealed nothing.
She blinked. Tried to make a sorrowful expression.
“……”
But no matter what, she couldn’t.
She tried to look angry. She couldn’t.
She stayed there for a long time, trying expression after expression, but each attempt failed.
Only then did she realize—she had forgotten every face but one. The meek, serene mask of calm.
Staring at the reflection, she shook her head with a murmur.
“Perhaps it’s better this way.”
Emotions could be fatal weakness. But with a calm, unruffled mask, she could shake the hearts of others. There could be no greater weapon.
Even so, the mirror showing her doll-like, expressionless face unsettled her. She turned it aside.
