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Chapter 14
The last room of the West Tower.
It was a place from which René’s annex could be seen in its entirety.
Genos, with heavy steps, slowly pushed the door open.
A spherical room made entirely of stone.
It was a place rarely visited by people, yet it was meticulously kept, ready to welcome its master at any time.
Opposite the thick wooden door was a large window, beside which hung a massive tapestry.
Embroidered with the family crest, the tapestry signaled that this space was reserved solely for the master of the Celeste Mansion.
“Hmm.”
Genos perched on a plush velvet chair by the window.
Thanks to the unusually fine weather, he could see the rear hill behind the Celeste Mansion and the cozy cabin at its foot clearly.
There was no one in René’s front yard, at least as far as the house itself extended.
“Sigh…”
Pausing near the window, Genos exhaled.
Seeing his reflection in the glass, a sudden wave of self-loathing washed over him.
“To be deceived by such obvious lies… what am I doing here?”
After all, the Grand Duke Celeste’s estate was heavily guarded, and intruders could hardly enter.
He knew this better than anyone… yet here he was, crawling in out of unnecessary suspicion, feeling utterly pathetic.
Just as Genos was about to turn away from the window—
“!”
As if waiting for this moment, René Blanche appeared.
Though some distance separated them, whether good or bad, Genos had excellent eyesight.
He could clearly see her darting about energetically.
René wore a red cloak matching the color of her eyes.
She walked across the front yard and dramatically flung the cloak aside.
Startled, Genos instinctively looked away—but she was wearing a fluffy fur outfit underneath.
The maids had bundled her so tightly that it must have felt stifling.
“Like a white ermine buried in the snow.”
Genos idly thought this as she moved about, when—
“?”
Suddenly, she began acting strangely.
“What… is she doing?”
Even Genos found it difficult to tear his eyes away from René, as if drawn to her like a magnet.
And for good reason: René suddenly began hopping on the spot, stretching her limbs in all directions.
It seemed she was moving them according to some kind of rhythm, yet to Genos, a sword master…
‘She’s hopelessly clumsy.’
There was no sense of rhythm in her movements.
She seemed completely absorbed in what she was doing, and that was all.
After a dozen or so jumps, René panted heavily and diligently wiped away her sweat.
‘All that effort, and she’s sweating this much?’
Genos felt somewhat dumbfounded.
Knock. Knock.
“Your Highness, Kal is here.”
“Yes.”
The door opened with a knock, and the head steward, Kal, appeared.
Behind him stood a woman in maid attire, her face slightly tense.
“I’ve brought the Grand Duchess’s personal maid. She wishes to pay her respects.”
“Yes.”
At Kal’s words, the maid stepped forward and bowed deeply.
“Greetings, Your Grace, Grand Duke. I am Betty, serving the Grand Duchess.”
Betty remained expressionless, silently waiting for further instructions.
She had returned to her quiet, dutiful self.
“Report concisely.”
In a stiff tone, Genos commanded.
Swallowing nervously, Betty hesitated, then spoke in a firm voice.
“Based on my observations over the past few weeks, the Grand Duchess… is not someone Your Grace need worry about.”
“On what basis?”
“There’s no way such a little bunny would pose any threat to Your Grace.”
“…?”
“Leave the skepticism aside.”
Kal’s sharp interjection caused Betty to awkwardly scratch her head.
“But it’s true. Since arriving at the Grand Duke’s estate, all René has done is clean the cabin, attempt to chop firewood and stumble, or strain herself while cleaning the library.”
Genos’s gaze returned to the window.
René, who had been hopping for some time, had now changed her movements.
This time, she moved her arms up and down in a rhythmic motion, as if rowing or scooping something, bouncing in place.
“….”
“….”
“….”
Everyone present was momentarily speechless at René’s behavior.
“See?”
Betty asked, looking at her mistress’s everyday actions.
“…I see.”
Genos answered, this one point understood clearly.
“Very well. You may leave.”
“Yes. My apologies.”
Betty exited quietly, bowing politely as she had when entering.
Genos stared at René for a moment longer, then, slightly annoyed, drew the curtain.
He no longer wished to watch her antics.
As he moved away, Kal, who had left the door open, quietly followed him.
In a low voice, he said:
“Considering the reports from the other staff, the personal maid’s account was accurate.”
Footsteps echoed along the West Tower stairs, accompanied by a cavernous low voice.
“Kal, what’s your take?”
“I haven’t had direct conversations with her, nor have I served her personally, so I can’t be certain… but considering the staff, the personal maid, and even our Blanche household staff’s testimony…”
“Hmm.”
“She doesn’t appear to act with malice.”
Kal was an experienced steward, discerning and capable—a reason why the Grand Duke’s estate ran smoothly.
Genos trusted him completely.
All that aside, Genos had known something from the start.
Perhaps the resentment he felt wasn’t toward René herself, but toward her family, and by extension, the Empress and the ministers.
‘René Blanche left no record of direct interaction with the Empress… so why did the Empress push her into the position of Grand Duchess?’
Even to the end, Genos couldn’t entirely remove the suspicion from his eyes.
Yet, unconsciously, his impression of René Blanche had changed considerably since the first encounter.
“Huff, huff, huff.”
Though the sky was clear, winter’s chill bit sharply.
With each breath, a coldness sank deep into the lungs, pressing on the chest.
His heart pounded under this strain.
His cheeks must have been bright red from exertion, and sweat streamed down his forehead.
‘Why am I so exhausted from just this?’
Suppressing the urge to collapse, he plopped down on the tree stump.
‘I’ve completely… burned out.’
He felt as though he’d just sprinted full speed, though all he’d really done was the national calisthenics.
As repeatedly stated, his body was far weaker than expected—no muscles, no stamina.
‘Have I just been lying down and breathing all this time?’
Perhaps the original owner of this body had. But now that it was his, he couldn’t leave it as is.
He decided to start from the basics.
As a public exercise aimed at improving citizens’ basic fitness, the national calisthenics was surprisingly good.
Even failing at simple squats, he was grateful just to keep up with the routine.
Thus, the national calisthenics became his morning ritual.
After a few days, it felt slightly less exhausting than at first.
Perhaps some improvement.
“Phew. One more set.”
Spring was coming; he needed the strength for the vegetable garden.
Most importantly, he needed the stamina to chop firewood—the source of past bitter injury!
To retry chopping firewood, he had to shed his frail, twig-like body.
‘Someday, I’ll chop the thickest logs like Betty, with strong arms.’
It was powerful motivation.
He forced himself upright, but his feeble body refused to cooperate.
His legs wobbled uncontrollably, taking a few steps as if performing a silly dance.
“Pfft!”
