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Chapter : 14
Came Out of the Grave
The sun had completely set.
The sky that had once burned with sunset was now dyed black.
“Where are they?”
Charlophe turned from where she had been standing at the edge of the cliff.
“You disappeared with them, didn’t you?”
She looked back at Benjamin as she asked. He glanced down at her, standing so precariously, and asked in return,
“Do you want to hear?”
“……”
“It’s fine. I sent them back nicely.”
“Is it really okay to just let them go like that?”
Benjamin looked down at Charlophe.
“No. Probably not.”
“But you said you sent them back.”
“Yeah. One way or another.”
Benjamin had meant to let them go as well—if not for the vile drugs he’d found among their belongings.
With a faint smile, he called her name.
“Charle.”
Charlophe blinked at the call.
“Yes?”
“Your breathing is shallow. Like it’s hard just to breathe.”
Charlophe stiffly ran her fingers over her neck.
The death that had brushed her chin still felt vivid.
Whenever she touched her neck like that, she remembered the day she had been dying.
Her airways stiffening. Her lungs hardening.
Every joint freezing, moment by moment, as she turned into something like carved wood.
Her fingers traced from her throat down to her collarbone.
“Why do you keep touching your neck?”
“Huh?”
“You do it obsessively.”
Benjamin wrapped his hand around her neck.
Her breath caught instantly. He wasn’t squeezing—just gently enclosing it.
“Is it hard to breathe?”
“Don’t joke like that.”
“If I don’t joke around like this, you’ll make the mood too serious all by yourself.”
Benjamin leaned in close. His eyes darkened right before her.
The black pupils, like hers, were deep and clear.
“I barely crawled out of the grave. And then those people shoved me back into the dirt again.”
He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered.
“That’s a violent way to put it, Charle.”
“……”
“The night wind is cold. Let’s go back.”
He smoothed her hair and pulled his cloak around her.
“Prepare the carriage.”
Charlophe lowered the hand that had been rubbing her nape.
There were things between us, father and daughter, that were hard to explain in words.
It was fine now that Father had brought home a mistress.
I didn’t even resent him for embracing that illegitimate child into the family.
My mother’s death had become a distant memory.
“Why?” she asked.
“You’re… how should I put it.”
“Yes?”
“You’re difficult.”
“Why?”
“I can’t read what’s inside you.”
Benjamin trailed off with a smile. His eyes curved gently, but between the narrow lids, the glimpses of his pupils were dark and turbid.
Katarina cleared her throat to announce herself.
“The carriage is ready.”
The sky had already grown dark. It was time to leave.
Without saying anything else, Benjamin slowly repeated her name.
“Charle. Charlophe. Charlophe Windsor.”
Charlophe tilted her head back and met his eyes.
“Come to think of it, didn’t you just lose your birth mother not long ago?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“But you don’t seem sad at all.”
What had I been like back then? When I’d just lost my mother.
There were moments when all kinds of sorrow came rushing in like a tide. But not now.
“I can barely remember anymore.”
She only remembered her mother’s face because she had seen it in a memorial portrait. Even after just a few years, faces fade—let alone after more than ten.
The child who lost her mother had grown into an adult.
“Have you lost your mind?! What were you doing out this late? Leaving the house without a single word—where have you been?!”
When Charlophe arrived home, the Windsor family erupted at the sight of her late return.
“She was with me. Don’t scold her too harshly.”
Benjamin calmly soothed Aster. Aster glanced at Charlophe, then answered him.
“Even so, you should’ve told us you’d be late. There are people waiting at home—what are we supposed to do if there’s no word at all?”
Charlophe parted her lips, feeling flustered.
It had been a long time since someone had waited for her.
So long that she’d even forgotten she should tell them if she’d be late.
As she stood there hesitating, Benjamin gently patted her head.
“I didn’t realize it’d get this late.”
“You were together the whole time?”
“Yes. We were.”
“Then I suppose it was needless worry. Will Your Highness come inside as well?”
Benjamin glanced down at Charlophe once, then replied,
“No. It’s late. Next time.”
“Charlophe, you go inside now. It’s cold, and you’ve been standing out here.”
For the first time, Charlophe felt awkward.
“Go in.”
Benjamin lightly pushed her back. She hesitated, then took a step and looked back.
“My fiancée’s mind is complicated right now. Aster, put her in a warm bath and let her rest for a while.”
“What?”
Charlophe’s eyes darted in confusion.
“If we leave her like this, I think she might wear herself out.”
Benjamin left her behind and disappeared quietly beyond the shadows.
As Charlophe stood frozen before the gate, Aster called out,
“Charle? Charlophe?”
“Have you eaten?”
“No. It’s still before dinner.”
“You haven’t even eaten at this hour—what have you been doing? All right, then! Head maid, put the girl in the bath. She’ll catch frost in her bones at this rate. Doesn’t she even feel the cold?”
Only then did Charlophe clear her throat with a cough. The cold air made her nose sting.
As she rubbed at it, a maid hurried over and draped a blanket around her shoulders.
“They say Marquis Tuteur has brought in the child he had outside, along with his mistress.”
Roskel stabbed a dagger through an assassin’s neck.
“Charlophe will take it to heart again.”
Benjamin muttered quietly.
“At first, it seems he meant to bring them in as soon as the lady of the house died. But when the young lady was disowned, the timing got tangled.”
“So?”
“The child fell ill, so they brought him in first, and they were planning to take the young lady back as well—!”
Roskel flinched and pulled back sharply.
Another assassin lunged for his throat. As Roskel hurriedly tried to block him, Benjamin grabbed the man by the nape and flung him aside.
“Be careful.”
“Th-thank you.”
The surrounding assassins were quickly dealt with. Like shadows sinking into the ground, everything grew quiet in an instant.
Roskel carefully studied his lord. Benjamin looked a little more tired than usual.
“Are you fatigued?”
“A little.”
“Your outing was long today, wasn’t it?”
Roskel wiped the blood from his hands with a handkerchief and dropped it.
“In any case, it’s obvious the young lady will run into trouble again. Since she’s been disowned, that five-year-old will become the sole bloodline of the Tuteur family, won’t he?”
Benjamin let the sword fall from his hand. The light in his eyes slowly faded.
“The young lady must be deeply hurt.”
Will she?
“She’s not a child who shows her sorrow easily.”
Charlophe wasn’t one to speak her heart first.
There was a sense of distance about her.
Charle. Charlophe.
As Benjamin whispered her name, he brushed his lips with his fingertips.
“What’s wrong, Your Highness?”
“My throat is dry.”
“Your Highness should be careful to hide such unsavory tendencies behind your refinement. If the young lady were to see, she’d be utterly shocked and run away.”
Benjamin subdued his presence.
“Your Highness.”
The informants climbed over the wall to join them—subordinates who had scattered to deal with the assassins.
“The assassins have been taken care of.”
Benjamin looked around the empty alley.
In the silent night street, all traces of anyone having passed through were wiped away.
Charlophe ruffled her hair and climbed out of bed. When she tugged the bell cord, Becky brought in water for washing.
“Good morning, miss.”
Charlophe got down, rubbing her stiff nape.
“You seemed to have a bit of a cold last night—how are you today?”
“I’m fine. I took a warm bath right away yesterday.”
“That’s a relief. Catching a cold at this time of year would be a real problem.”
She put on a light pastel dress, brushed back her hair, skipped makeup, and, in comfortable clothes, picked up the newsletter before leaning into a sofa on the terrace.
“The hunting competition is coming up soon, isn’t it? Have you prepared a handkerchief?”
“Was that on the schedule?”
“Have you forgotten?”
“No. I just remembered… So it’s around this time.”
Around this time, Charlophe had once fallen seriously ill.
The child who barely endured each day in her mother’s absence had finally collapsed.
“Miss?”
Becky called to her and gently tapped on the terrace window.
“Yes.”
“You’ll attend, won’t you?”
“My mother’s family will all be there, so I should go too.”
With a smooth motion, Charlophe folded the newsletter. It, too, featured the upcoming hunting competition.
“Oh, and the head of the family asked for you.”
Becky took the paper. Charlophe picked up the shawl draped over the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“I’ll go pay Grandfather my respects.”
When she stepped outside, all the windows were open for airing.
The wind from outside struck her cheeks. Squinting one eye, she raised the back of her hand to shield her view.
The sunlight was sharp.
Fiddling with her shawl, Charlophe went down to the lower floor.
“Miss, are you here to see the head of the family?”
“Is Grandfather in his study?”
The butler nodded with a gentle smile.
“Head of the family. The young lady has arrived.”
The study door opened, and Leandro could be seen through the gap. Adjusting his monocle, he looked up.
Charlophe peeked in and asked,
“If you’re busy, should I come back later?”
“That’s fine. The door’s open—come in.”
She closed the door behind her and entered.
The study was filled with the bitter aroma of coffee. When well-roasted beans were ground and brewed, this rich fragrance spread. It drew her attention—she hadn’t smelled it in a long time.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It’s coffee.”
“We’ve only recently started importing the beans—where have you seen it before?”
Leandro paused, then asked again,
“You wouldn’t have had a chance to try it, would you?”
