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Chapter 28
Why was Veronica holding a ring that was practically the symbol of Fenrir?
Diana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Shock made her fingertips tremble uncontrollably. She tried to tell herself it was just a coincidence—that the Valdamir Trading Company was a massive organization representing the economy of Islant, so it wouldn’t be strange for such an item to surface there—but once her heart had lurched, it stubbornly refused to calm down.
“Oh dear, I suppose riding the sled was a mistake after all. Your face is all red—it looks like you’ve come down with a fever. Let’s take a carriage on the way back. Sasha, hurry and fetch one!”
Elka mistook Diana’s reaction for the onset of a cold and pushed her along without listening. Diana wanted to learn more about Veronica’s ring, but by the time she came to her senses, she was already seated in a carriage heading back to the castle.
Should I ask Erno?
It was the fastest and most reliable option. But Erno wasn’t in the castle right now. Even if she wanted to send a letter, how could she send one to someone when she didn’t even know where he was?
Then who else could she ask?
The first person who came to mind was Aquila. But Aquila, too, was difficult to catch—he was constantly checking on repairs throughout the castle, including the damaged tower lock.
In the end, while Diana’s suspicions faded away unresolved, the greenhouse restoration project moved forward smoothly with Veronica’s full support.
Even the servants of Fenrir Castle, who had initially shown little enthusiasm for the project, couldn’t help but grow interested once the work truly began.
At last, that eyesore would be gone.
Or perhaps, the greenhouse would finally regain its former beauty.
Though their perspectives differed, their longing for the work to finish as soon as possible—and the amount of hope they carried in their hearts—was the same.
When the thick ivy that had covered the outer walls like the fleece of an overgrown sheep was stripped away, the greenhouse immediately looked brighter.
Then, as dust was wiped from the equally thick layer coating the windows and shattered glass was removed, clear, milky sunlight finally flooded the interior.
Thanks to the passionate servants of Fenrir Castle and the experts sent by Veronica, the greenhouse changed day by day.
Under the gentle sunlight, rotten soil was cleared away and replaced with fresh, high-quality earth.
The flowerbeds that had been stained an unpleasant green by weeds and moss grew verdant again, marked by the lively impressions of newly sprouted shoots. Even branches thought long dead began to swell with sap.
At last, the fountain that had once been completely dismantled returned to its place in an entirely new form.
There were still parts of the greenhouse that needed work, and it would take even longer for the newly planted flowers and trees to fully bloom.
But a space that had seemed utterly lifeless just a month ago was now bursting with young lives sprouting everywhere the eye could see.
The sight was so unbelievable that even the tenderhearted couldn’t help but sniffle and wipe away tears.
At the forefront stood Elka, constantly dabbing her eyes with her apron.
“I wish Erno could have seen this…”
Diana murmured as she looked around with a face full of regret.
Word that the fountain had been reinstalled brought even the servants who hadn’t participated in the project flocking to see it, filling the once-spacious greenhouse with people.
Yet the one person who should have been there—the master of the greenhouse—was absent.
“Please don’t be too disappointed, my lady. Isn’t it better this way? At least you’ll be able to show Lord Erno the finished greenhouse,” Elka said gently.
“That’s true, but…”
Despite Elka’s kind words, Diana lingered near the fountain, unable to tear herself away.
“My lady. Sir Erno sent a letter.”
“Erno did?”
With a smile, Aquila pulled a letter from his coat. Diana’s face lit up, and she raised her voice without realizing it.
She quickly cleared her throat, but it was too late—Aquila, Elka, and even the nearby servants were all looking at her with knowing smiles and meaningful glances.
Her ears burning red, Diana lowered her head and silently held out her hand.
Thankfully, the considerate knight handed over the letter without adding a single word.
Clutching it as if someone might steal it from her, the Grand Duchess hurried off to a corner of the greenhouse. The others watched her fondly.
“Our lady must be very happy.”
Our lady.
Before she knew it, that was how the servants had begun referring to Diana.
Only after reaching a secluded, quiet spot did Diana finally take out the letter she had been holding so dearly.
She looked around one last time to ensure no one was nearby, then let out the breath she’d been holding and carefully opened the envelope.
This was the first letter she had ever received in her life.
The first letter of her life.
And it wasn’t from just anyone—it was from her husband, Erno.
No matter how much she tried not to make a big deal of it, the corners of her mouth kept twitching. As her fingers traced her lips, her ears turned even redder. Unable to bear the heat rising to her face, Diana eventually buried it between her knees.
She knew. She knew he didn’t love her. She knew she was treated not as a beloved wife, but merely as a Grand Duchess in name.
From their first meeting, he had embarrassed her—constantly doubting her, misunderstanding her at will, and always looking at her with either contempt or disdain.
So there was no need to get so worked up. He wasn’t worth it.
And yet, just the fact that he had sent her a letter made butterflies flutter wildly in her chest.
My return has been delayed. I heard about the greenhouse. I hope you will remember the position you hold as the Grand Duchess of Fenrir.
The sharp, slanted handwriting carried his familiar, arrogant voice.
Even a message delivered by courier would have been longer—and warmer. Yet Diana reread the letter again and again, as though it were a poem written by a poet to his lover.
Her fingers, still faintly stained with sap, lingered over the words Grand Duchess of Fenrir.
He was a little hateful—but it didn’t change the fact that he had given her a place to belong and a name to carry. Somewhere beyond her awareness, that gratitude was beginning to transform into something else.
The letter held no words of safety, no wish for her well-being. Still, it eased her worries about Erno, if only a little.
Steeling her heart, Diana stood up. There was still much left to do.
If he was doing his best in his position, then she, too, would do her best in hers.
The long, white winter sunlight passed through the glass, carrying the warmth of spring as it spread like mist throughout the greenhouse.
The warmth pouring down over her head and back made her yawn despite her resolve. Tucking the letter safely against her chest, Diana leaned briefly against a tree.
She was always the first to arrive at the greenhouse—and the last to leave.
So it was only natural that she would grow exhausted and fall asleep. The servants lowered their voices so as not to wake her, and the workers softened their footsteps as they carried equipment away.
“My lady. You should go inside and rest now.”
“Mmm… Elka…?”
Blinking slowly, Diana let out another long yawn.
“Oh my goodness.”
As the sleepiness faded, Diana let out a thin cry, realizing what she’d done.
“The bath should be ready and warm by now. Come along.”
Flustered and embarrassed, Diana still accepted Elka’s outstretched hand.
Outside the greenhouse, the edges of the sky had turned red. Diana silently sent a prayer drifting along the passing clouds.
May Erno be safe today as well.
May the sky above him be just as clear and peaceful.
“Lord Erno!”
His vision flashed white. A shock ran up from his waist and spread through his entire body. The pain was so severe it felt as though his insides were being overturned, and he lost all sensation below the waist.
To fully sever its prey’s breath, the monster tore at him before flinging his body high into the air. Blood burst from the torn waist, tracing an arc through the sky before Erno crashed to the ground.
When he reached back, he found a hole large enough to shove his entire wrist into.
Stuffing whatever cloth he could grab into the wound to roughly stop the bleeding, Erno tightened his grip on the sword he had refused to let go of until the very end.
His head had struck the ground, making it difficult to focus his vision. But a power beyond human senses—an instinct inherited from his ancestors—guided him toward victory.
Finally, splitting the monster’s waist clean in two, Erno finished his revenge. Using his sword as a cane, he planted it into the ground and gasped for breath.
The rumors that these monsters behaved like humans were true.
If they retreated now, the next attack might be on their own front yard.
So they would kill them all here.
With blood vessels burst in his eyes, Erno lifted his gaze to the sky.
Even in a moment like this, the sky of Islant was heartbreakingly clear and peaceful.
