MSPD 22

Chapter 22

“Don’t be nervous. Move calmly.”

The head maid, Countess Fillmore, instructed the trainee maid beside her.

However, the so-called trainee looked far too old for the title. And indeed, she was—she had already worked in this very castle for ten years.

It was only after observing her for that long that Countess Fillmore had decided to hire her as a direct attendant to the Duke himself.

“Last night, His Grace stayed up all night working in his study. On such days, he usually takes a light breakfast earlier than usual.”

The maid listened attentively to every word the head maid spoke.

Putting it together, it seemed to mean: Do your work silently, as if you were air.

The moment she stepped into the Duke’s study—still shrouded in pre-dawn darkness—she unconsciously held her breath.

There was a darkness that not even hundreds of candles could dispel.

It spread heavily through the air, rolling like a tide that seemed ready to swallow the Duke whole.

Yet the deeper she went inside, the stronger she felt that this darkness wasn’t merely around him—it was emanating from him.

While the head maid replaced the flowers in a vase with fresh ones, the maid quietly set the Duke’s breakfast table.

It was often said that for nobles, meals were not only about taste but also about presentation and elegance.
But the Duke’s meal was none of that.

His breakfast—plain and modest to the point of seeming meager—was clearly a meal for survival, not enjoyment.

The maid couldn’t help but sneak glances at the Duke.

Even after an all-nighter, there wasn’t the slightest slump in his back or neck. His upright figure exuded a sharp intensity, like a forged blade.

There wasn’t even a handful of emotion in him; he didn’t seem like a person at all—he had always been nothing but “the Duke.”

Maybe that thought distracted her.

“Ah!”

She slipped and nearly dropped a dish.
Although she managed to avoid spilling the food, the sound of the utensils hitting the table was loud—especially loud in the stillness of dawn.

“I-I’m sorry, Your Grace!”

The maid went pale and bowed deeply.

As she trembled with her head lowered, a cold voice fell from above her.

“That’s enough. Leave.”

When she raised her head, the Duke was still staring down at his papers, exactly as before.

Catching the head maid’s sharp gaze, the maid quickly rose and scurried out of the study.

“This one is newly appointed as Your Grace’s exclusive maid,” Countess Fillmore explained calmly. “She’s still inexperienced. Please forgive her.”

“There’s no need to replace my staff, nor to increase their number,” the Duke replied without looking up. “From now on, make arrangements according to the Young Duke, not me.”

In other words, prepare for Theodore to become the next Duke.

“…Understood, Your Grace.”

Countess Fillmore quietly left the study, swallowing a sigh.

The Duke’s darkness grew heavier with each passing day—no number of candles could seem to pierce it.

Perhaps it lingered because there was a spirit here that longed to leave but couldn’t, bound by unfinished business.

Even the greenery he once loved, the blossoms and fruits that used to move his heart—none of them stirred him now.

So, no matter how many new flowers she brought each day,
No matter how many candles they lit,

Nothing could dispel the Duke’s darkness.

Meanwhile, once alone, the Duke leaned back in his chair for the first time in hours.

Of the food the maid had brought, he drank only a single cup of lukewarm water. Then he returned to the thoughts that had occupied him all night.

Belladis Calypse.

The papers before him were reports detailing his granddaughter-in-law’s recent actions.

The Fire of Purification.

His crimson eyes moved once again over that strange phrase.

“After the Young Duchess used a mysterious power, the hostile wolves suddenly turned docile and broke open their cages. It was… like magic.”

Magic.

It wasn’t an absurd notion.

In this world, there were people who could project their will or thought into reality as energy.

Some knights, for instance, could concentrate energy into their swords.
Those who could manifest it on a far larger scale were called mages.

The now-extinct House of Marquis Caron had once been a prominent mage family.

Could it be, then, that Belladis had somehow been able to wield magic?

Everyone who had discussed the matter had shaken their heads in doubt.

If Belladis were truly a mage, the Emperor would never have sent her to the Duke’s estate.
With the fall of the Caron family, mages had all but vanished from the world, making them extremely valuable.

Besides, magic was a physical force, not a mental one.
There was no known spell capable of changing the behavior of living beasts.

And the wolves in the valley still acted wild—unchanged in every way.

In the end, Edwin, the investigator, proposed that the witnesses had experienced temporary hysteria or hallucination brought on by panic.

They had even claimed Belladis was covered in blood, yet the physician found no wounds on her body.

Even her clothing bore not a single bloodstain—though the fabric near her abdomen was strangely torn, as if pierced by a blade. Still, her garments had been ripped in several places, so it wasn’t conclusive.

Perhaps that’s why Edwin, in his final summary, added a cautious note about Belladis’s condition:

“There is a strong possibility of mental derangement and physical exhaustion caused by prolonged abuse and sustained poisoning since her time in the Imperial Palace.”

Her sudden, impulsive actions—as if her personality had been replaced—were, in his view, the results of a broken mind.

Her shouting at the imperial physician,
Her command to the Captain of the Imperial Guard to “Leave us,”
Even her desperate plea to remain in Calypse—

All of it, he argued, were acts born of mental instability.

“I can’t live without Kero! I want to stay here with Kero!”

Recalling the image of his flushed granddaughter-in-law yelling those words before running away, Calterion let out a long sigh and put the papers down.

Slowly, the memory of their first meeting came back to him.

“My youngest daughter has come of marriageable age, but there’s not a suitable suitor in sight. So I was thinking—my heart rather favors the young Duke of Calypse. What do you say, Duke? Would you take my daughter as your grandson’s bride?”

That was how Emperor Nicholas had first proposed the match—summoning Belladis right then and there.

It had taken her less than ten minutes to arrive from the far end of the palace.

“Ah! Come here, my dear daughter.”

The Emperor greeted her warmly.
But unlike him, the princess—Belladis—was pale as a ghost, trembling so badly she could barely walk.

Even then, the Emperor had only laughed cheerfully.

“What do you think, Duke?”

The only reason Calterion had accepted that abrupt and impolite proposal was because of one thing:
the Purification Stone.

And that decision had proven to be a grave mistake.

Calterion opened a deep drawer and drew out another document, bound in black.

“[Top Secret] — Reactivation of the Purification Stone Mining Project.”

At present, the Imperial Family monopolized all Purification Stone mining, granting rights only to families of their choosing.

Even though Calypse had offered up their Young Duke, they had still been denied the license.

Therefore, the project had to proceed in utmost secrecy.

Which was why Belladis had to be sent back to the Imperial Palace.

As long as she remained in this castle, the Empire would have every pretext to send their agents here.

Her life, once returned to the palace,
would surely be miserable.

But that did not affect his decision.

Just as his personal sorrow did not affect his duty to the Calypse name.

Calterion rose from his chair and tossed Edwin’s report into the fireplace.

As dawn broke, the dim world outside his window slowly brightened.
He walked to the window overlooking the inner courtyard and opened it.

The beech tree that always stood there shone in the rays of the rising sun.

Yet in the Duke’s crimson eyes, there was only emptiness.

The days when he used to smile while admiring the tree’s changing seasons were long gone.

And as the Duke stopped smiling, so too did the castle.

Even the children who lived there with their parents no longer set foot in the shadowed courtyard.

Now, the only sounds that could be heard there were the chirps of the blue tits and nuthatches that came to visit the beech tree.

Just as Calterion was about to close the window—

“Come on, Kero, hurry up!”

A bright, lively voice pierced the still morning of the courtyard.