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<Prologue> A Funeral in the Rain
“Ellie, do you know why I keep you by my side?”
Kiern’s voice brushed against her ear—sweet, yet somehow twisted.
He was kind and aristocratic to everyone, yet never let anyone get too close. Only in front of Elizabeth did he reveal his raw, unfiltered emotions.
“Why do you keep me?”
She tried to keep her voice from trembling, but whenever he treated her carelessly, it felt as though all the blood drained from her body, making it hard to stay composed.
As if sensing her unease, he let out a faint scoff and crooked his finger, ordering her to come closer.
Elizabeth’s gaze naturally fell on his long fingers. He was holding a cigar.
White smoke curled up around him. Once a proper young noble who didn’t suit such things at all, he had now become a man accustomed to cigars.
And the fact that it was her mother who had made him this way made her chest feel like it was being torn apart.
As Elizabeth approached on her knees, he grabbed her chin and blew smoke directly into her face.
The acrid smoke stung her nose, but she didn’t close her eyes. She simply stared quietly into his sorrow.
Kiern’s blue eyes were dull. No longer sharp and brilliant, nor damp with grief—just dry and lifeless. As he gently stroked her cheek, he spoke.
“You still don’t get it? Ellie, you’re more naive than I thought.”
“……”
“No… someone with that woman’s blood in them couldn’t be naive. Then are you pretending? Just like your mother, are you coveting the position of Duchess?”
“Kiern.”
“Who said you could call my name so carelessly?”
The warmth in his voice turned cold in an instant. The fact that she was no longer even allowed to say his name freely filled Elizabeth with despair.
When she shut her lips, he leaned in closer. His blue eyes were so near it felt like they could devour her.
At some point, Elizabeth had begun to fear those eyes. Once, they had been her favorite color—but now, they were the color that hurt her the most.
Pain surged as his grip crushed her cheek, but she couldn’t protest. As he said, she was that woman’s daughter. As long as the blood of the woman he hated most ran through her, she had no right to resist him.
“It hurts.”
“Don’t pretend to be innocent. It’s disgusting.”
“……”
“Don’t get the wrong idea either. I didn’t take you in because I pitied you, or because I love you.”
Kiern said this as he pressed down on her red lips with his fingertips. His eyes were deep and dark like a lake at night—so empty they seemed hollow.
“It’s just simple revenge. Just as your mother ruined my mother’s life, I’m going to shatter yours piece by piece.”
With those words, his fingers invaded her mouth. The cold touch brushing her tongue made her body, already accustomed to him, heat up all too easily.
Disgusted with herself, Elizabeth tried to close her mouth, but it only intensified the sensation.
After he continued to toy with her mouth for some time, tears welled up in her eyes. Kiern frowned at the sight.
“Don’t cry. You don’t even have the right to cry.”
“……”
“Just stay like this—on your knees before me—and spend your life paying for your mother’s sins. That’s the only way you’ll ever be forgiven.”
With that, he swallowed her lips in a kiss. It was merciless, yet even that felt sweet to her, making her hate herself unbearably.
The bitter scent of the cigar mixed with his own, making her dizzy.
Ever since the day everything was revealed, he had not hesitated to break and destroy her.
Appearing like a benevolent ruler, yet tearing at her body and mind like a sweet executioner—living only for her misery.
Elizabeth despaired at the reality that she was nothing but pain to him.
Kiern—her entire adolescence, her first love, and her only friend—no longer existed.
All that remained was a ruthless master and a wretched woman who had fallen to being his mistress.
Elizabeth endured.
And endured.
But when she could endure no longer, she had to run away.
Because she had discovered that an innocent life was growing inside her.
On the day the Duchess died, Elizabeth felt as though Kiern’s world had collapsed.
Not a single day was clear during the funeral. Rain poured endlessly, as if the sky itself had been torn open. It almost felt like the heavens were crying in Kiern’s place.
He was only eighteen when he lost his mother.
Throughout the funeral, there was no trace of sorrow on his face.
He didn’t cry once, and calmly accepted the condolences of everyone who came. It made him seem as though he wasn’t grieving at all.
He had always been someone who didn’t show his emotions, so the mourners clicked their tongues as they left, thinking him cold for not shedding a single tear even at a time like this.
But Elizabeth knew.
He was too devastated to even cry.
He was struggling just to stand there like stone, unable to accept reality.
That he was, in truth, so fragile he could shatter at the slightest touch.
“Kiern.”
Elizabeth quietly took his hand. She just wanted to ease his sorrow, even a little.
“Your mother must have gone to a good place. She was a good person.”
It hurt that she could only offer such a cliché comfort, but she meant it sincerely. Elizabeth truly hoped the Duchess had gone to heaven.
At that moment, Kiern glanced at her with his pale, beautiful face.
His blue eyes, like the gloomy sky, carried a heavy emptiness. Those eyes that had never once lost their light were now filled with sorrow.
Elizabeth could see it—though no one else could.
People only knew him on the surface. They couldn’t see the storm of despair swirling within those eyes.
“I suppose she did.”
His tone was flat, yet sharp and cold.
There was a faint trace of mockery in his answer. Surprised by the unrefined emotion that didn’t suit him, Elizabeth looked up at him.
But perhaps it had just been her imagination. As if nothing had happened, he smiled gently and whispered softly,
“Thank you for worrying about me.”
It was his usual smooth voice, and she felt relieved. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, anxious for him.
Kiern loved his mother, the Duchess, more than anyone.
For his frail mother, he would prepare roses she loved all year round, placing them in vases, and only go to bed after making sure she was well.
She was often ill, and taking care of her had become part of his daily life. Especially during seasonal changes, when she would catch severe colds, he worried constantly.
On the other hand, his father, Duke Agapel, was indifferent. While he never spared financial support, he wasn’t affectionate.
As a result, the Duchess spent much of her time alone—and she poured all that love into Kiern.
She loved him dearly, and he loved her just as much.
Elizabeth admired that gentleness of his. She secretly cherished his kindness.
In truth, from the moment she first met him, she had no choice but to fall in love. She had never seen someone so handsome and gentlemanly in her life.
His refined behavior and speech, as if noble by birth, often made her feel like he belonged to a different world.
And yet, whenever she discovered even a small habit of his, she felt as if she had found a precious gem.
It had been a long time since his deep blue-black hair had stained her heart like ink, refusing to fade.
Elizabeth wanted to be a source of comfort for him.
Even though his mother was gone, she wanted him to know that there were still people who loved him.
So she gathered her courage, tightened her grip on his hand, and said,
“Kiern, don’t be too sad. I’ll stay by your side for a long time—enough to make up for your mother’s absence. I promise.”
Never imagining what that promise would come to mean for him.
Elizabeth came to stay at Agapel Castle four years before the Duchess’s death.
At the time, she was fourteen and grieving her first loss—her father’s sudden death.
But the harsh world did not allow her to grieve for long.
After the death of her father, Baron Rua, an enormous debt came to light.
Her mother, Stella, now a widow, was not someone who could live off the small inheritance he left behind.
Even if she worked as a lady’s maid for a great noble, she couldn’t control her already extravagant spending, nor did she know how to manage a household.
To make matters worse, there was no son to inherit the title, leaving their family name in name only—something that made her increasingly desperate.
At the time, Elizabeth was too young to do anything but comfort her crying mother.
Half-mad with desperation, Stella was eventually able to recover thanks to the help of her friend and mistress—the Duchess of Agapel.
Hearing of their unfortunate circumstances, the Duchess kindly allowed the mother and daughter to stay at the ducal estate.
