TDOT~30

Chapter 30

 Are You Asking Me to Hold You?

While Frida hesitated, unable to speak first, Daniel quietly observed his wife. He’d heard the physician had come and gone, but since she didn’t look ill, it was clear she was still confused by last night. Last night… If anyone overheard, they’d think something momentous had happened, but all that occurred was a kiss—between a husband and wife, after three years of marriage. Why last night, and why at that moment? Well, his wife—his very lovely wife—had been there. And she’d said she liked him. He hadn’t tried to come up with any excuse. She was simply beautiful. Admirable, too. Even after accomplishing the impossible as a woman in this barren duchy, she still chatted innocently as if it was nothing.

“Your Grace, you’re the benefactor who made my dreams come true.”

It was almost funny, being seen as a good person—someone’s benefactor. Most of what Daniel had ever heard directed at him was the opposite: curses or insults.

“Daniel Richard, you filthy bastard! Even in hell, I’ll curse you. You’re the eternal enemy of our family!”

Was that the voice of Duke Graf? There had been so many people cursing him that he’d lost track of who was who. Everyone who ever opposed Daniel ended up saying the same things as they died. He had never started a fight himself, not once. That was the contract between him, his mother Laura, and the Dowager Empress: as long as Daniel protected Leopold, the Empress wouldn’t kill him. Protecting meant defending, not attacking first. Only after a battle began would he take action. If people had just left him alone, they’d never have encountered him; yet they brought ruin on themselves and then blamed him. But finding excuses didn’t make killing any more justified, or any easier. Those are things you can’t do with feelings. That’s why Daniel had long ago erased his emotions—trying to live as indifferently, as blankly, as possible. Everything in the world had come to feel dull. Even being with women. Once, Riccardo had even brought a woman into Daniel’s bed without permission, but he’d felt nothing, not even looking at a naked body. To Daniel, the human body was just something that would die and vanish. After battle, the living stripped everything from the dead: clothes, shoes, weapons, belts. If they were lucky and found gold, mercenaries would dance for joy in front of broken corpses—people who, just moments ago, had been breathing alongside him. Daniel had seen this since he was ten. When he was a child, the shock made him throw up at every sight of such scenes.

“What, trying to act like a stuck-up noble?”

Each time, he’d hear Dominic’s mocking sneer. Suddenly, Daniel wondered—which was worse, the self who was horrified by those scenes, or the self who now felt nothing at all? What would his wife say to that question?

“You’re the benefactor who made my dreams come true.”

If he told her that, last night, hearing those words made him feel purified. If he confessed that he wanted to kiss her because of her innocence. And, at the same time, if he said that he wanted to sully her pure body and heart with his own filth—what would she say? Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and spoke.

“Do you have business with me?”

“Huh? But you knocked on my door first, Your Grace.”

“I thought you had something to say to me, Madam.”

“Oh, you heard? I was speaking quietly.”

Frida covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide, glancing repeatedly at the open door.

“I didn’t hear; I saw.”

Under the door, her shadow kept appearing and disappearing. Sometimes, she’d pause for a long while. He had grown tired of waiting for her to knock, so he’d done it himself.

“Go on, say it. What do you want from me?”

“Well… I was wondering if you could help me get outside.”

Daniel glanced from the bright daylight outside to Frida, who had walked into his room as if nothing was wrong.

“Did you hurt your leg?”

Is that why the physician had come? Watching his wife, who shook her head, Daniel’s brow furrowed.

“No, my legs are fine. It’s just… Muriel banned me from going outside again.”

“Why?”

“Well… Muriel thinks I’m sick.”

“You’re not? But I heard the doctor came by.”

“I’m not sick, just… a bit embarrassed, so I pretended…”

Unable to finish, Frida pouted and mumbled.

“Please help me get to the tower with the vault… There’s money I have to pay out today. Dominic must be waiting desperately for me.”

Waiting desperately? That wasn’t something a proper noble lady would say—must be Riccardo’s influence. Daniel wondered how much had happened in these three years, here in this land. He recalled Dominic’s complaint, that Frida felt like family to him now. That cold man, who thought all women were like mothers who birthed and abandoned him, had been moved by Daniel’s wife. Suddenly, Daniel understood that strange feeling that had come over him. Dominic had said he needed to leave the castle this afternoon—probably to deliver money. He always grumbled about the empty vault, but never missed a task the duchess gave him. Daniel clicked his tongue inwardly and lit the lamp in the corner. Then he walked to the bookshelf. He hadn’t told Frida to follow, but her light footsteps trailed after him. With a creak, Daniel slid the bookshelf aside, revealing the darkness he knew so well. He remembered the last time—when his wife had fainted there. He turned to her.

“Will you be all right?”

Fear always leaves a trace. But instead of being afraid, Frida smiled radiantly and nodded.

“Of course. As long as I’m with you, I’m fine. Not scared at all.”

“You’re brave.”

That slipped out before he realized.

“I hear that a lot.”

Daniel, who was rarely at a loss for words, couldn’t think of a reply. He simply stepped aside for her. Frida, apparently meaning what she said, went right in and took the lamp from his hand.

“I’ll carry this.”

With that, she stopped, looked up at Daniel, blinking her white eyelashes, clearly wanting to say something. But Daniel couldn’t read her expression, so he just looked back at her, unfazed.

“…”

“Um…”

The reason for her hesitation became clear when he saw the lamp in her hands and her arms awkwardly opened, as if ready to be hugged. Memories flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you… asking me to hold you?”

Watching the blush quickly spread over her pale face, Daniel’s smile grew deeper.

Southern Svergen Empire, Weimar. This region, once the territory of one of the twelve dukes—Duke Graf—had fallen into the hands of Duke Matthias Andrea after Graf’s death. Or rather, it was leased to him by the Imperial family, who only cared about getting steady rent from lands they couldn’t manage themselves. If you traced the imperial bloodline far enough, you’d find Duke Andrea was a distant branch, and he’d cleverly taken the opportunity to amass great wealth in recent years. Following river trade routes south, goods flowed east to Turk, west to the Ringen Empire, Milabo, Bologna, even Bulence—major trades in luxury goods and iron ore. But narrow, mountainous Utrecht, on the border, was of no interest to him—except for a favor to his distant relative, Count Hakbon. Duke Andrea, the classic merchant in a noble’s mask, frowned at his steward, Viscount Turner, who managed his finances.

“They’re hiring more servants in Utrecht? What do they need so many for in that mountain castle?”

Count Hakbon, who wrote constantly to worry about his daughter, had always been told to get Utrecht whatever they needed. A few years ago, when they needed to sell furniture in a hurry, Duke Andrea bought it for a good price. He’d turned a profit, but not a huge one, mostly out of sympathy for the duchess running things alone. Lately, Utrecht was being mentioned more and more.

“I heard Duke Richard woke up, but when did he ever live like a real noble with servants? He probably hasn’t shaken off his mercenary ways. Servants, what nonsense?”

“Well, the Dowager Empress has sent a house steward herself, so maybe they’ll start acting noble after all.”

“How many people do they need? Do they have the money?”

“That’s the strange part.”

Turner handed Duke Andrea a document covered in numbers and names.

“The last request was for about ten people, all with experience and good backgrounds. But this time, it just says ‘as many as possible’ with no other requirements.”

“So what’s the problem? We can just find anyone and collect the referral fee.”

“That’s what I thought, but… the problem is, there are too many applicants. Even the ones who had already agreed to ship out by boat now say they want to go to the duchy. ‘Andin Franco’ made a huge scene just now.”

Turner ran a finger down the document, which held thirty names.

“Rumor has it that the duchy is a good place to live.”

If all these people refused to ship out, Andin would definitely throw a fit. That ill-tempered man, responsible for sea trade between Ringen and Weimar, had reason to raise hell. Duke Andrea pinched his brow, shaking the papers.

“Find out what’s going on in Utrecht!”

Frida’s lamp cast flickering shadows of the two of them on the floor. Nestled deep in Daniel’s arms, Frida’s gaze followed her husband’s lips, faint in the dim light. His mouth was as expressionless as always, but remembering that earlier smile, he seemed like a different person. She’d seen him smile sometimes, but never with both his eyes and mouth so beautifully curved. It was a smile she’d never forget. Frida burrowed into Daniel’s chest and murmured shyly,

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, Your Grace.”

“…I don’t have much to smile about.”

His words, perhaps because of Riccardo’s story last night, made her chest ache. Someone who could smile so beautifully—when he was just a boy then—how could the Dowager Empress have been so cruel? Frida hesitantly looked up at his sharp jawline and began to speak.

“When I was six, my eldest sister died, and my younger brother Albert was born.”

Frida felt Daniel’s embrace tighten slightly, and she hunched her shoulders.

“I don’t remember well, but Lotte says I was terribly jealous of Albert. I’d pinch and make him cry when our parents weren’t looking… Once, I even put salt in his milk so he bawled and cried… Oh my!”

Daniel suddenly let her go. Frida, startled, lost her balance and dropped the lamp. Crash! The lamp shattered on the floor, scattering light everywhere. The moment she saw her husband’s face in that spill of light, Frida gasped.

“Riccardo? Or Dominic?”

Daniel’s eyes, pinning her to the wall, gleamed a vivid blood-red even in the dark.

“Who was it? Who said those unnecessary things to you?”