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Chapter 54
Fay transformed into his divine beast form and hid among the trees.
But it was a purely impulsive act. A moment later, realizing he had nowhere else to hide, he went back into his room.
Returning to human form, he squirmed under the bed.
<Stop bothering the Duke. You should know it’s greedy of you to want his love.>
<In truth, the Duke doesn’t like you. He just doesn’t show it because he thinks you’re an ignorant child.>
<You are the son of the cruelest villain who tormented the Duke.>
When he was about three years old, Fay had heard those words dripping with hatred.
He’d tried desperately to forget them—so much that he no longer even remembered who had said them.
If it had been back when things were still awkward between them, perhaps he would’ve believed it. But now, Fay didn’t really think his uncle truly hated him.
Even so, it was undeniable that the one who had tormented Lucas his whole life was Fay’s biological mother—and that Fay was her son.
That truth alone had been enough to push Fay to the edge, manifesting in his nightmares.
<He just doesn’t show it because he thinks you’re an ignorant child.>
If his uncle ever learned what Fay knew—what kind of expression would he make?
Fay didn’t want to find out.
“…I should’ve learned to lie better.”
His young, instinct-driven body often betrayed him. Before he knew it, the cup was already spilled.
Then—footsteps stopped outside his door. Quiet, deliberate, the kind of steps honed by habit not to be noticed.
Fay instinctively held his breath, covering his mouth and nose.
“Fay.”
Lucas entered the room. His gaze landed right under the bed.
A tiny foot was sticking out.
But Lucas pretended not to notice and sat down on the bed.
Silence filled the room.
Eventually, it was Fay who moved first. He crawled out from under the bed and stood hesitantly.
Lucas brushed the dust off the boy’s clothes.
“I’ll have to order another cleaning.”
He slid his hand under Fay’s arm and lifted him up, setting him beside him on the bed.
Fay, noticing the dark shadows under Lucas’s eyes, lowered his head guiltily when their eyes met.
He figured Lucas must’ve heard everything from Helen. With resignation, Fay asked softly:
“Do you hate me?”
“Why would I hate you?”
“You knew everything, but you didn’t give me the music box.”
“The music box is yours. You have no obligation to lend it to me.”
“But still…”
“Fay, what are you afraid of?”
Fay’s lips parted for a moment but closed again. His head hung low and unmoving.
Lucas sighed.
At the sound of that heavy sigh, Fay’s shoulders trembled.
“I know I haven’t been the kind of uncle who gives you confidence.”
“N-no! That’s not true!”
Fay jerked his head up so fast it made a whooshing sound.
“Uncle’s such a good person!”
His eyes turned sharp and triangular, as if offended that Lucas would even say such a thing.
If someone else had said it, Fay looked ready to throw his tiny fists at them.
“Even if you see me that way, it doesn’t change the truth. I’ve been lacking as your uncle.”
Just raising him well and passing on the ducal title wasn’t enough—he’d realized that far too late.
He should’ve shown more affection, more care.
So Fay could trust him and never feel anxious, no matter what happened.
“When I first met you, you were such a crybaby. You’d bawl until your throat hurt, and Bell had a hard time calming you down. But strangely enough, you’d stop crying whenever you saw me.”
“…I did?”
“Yes. Bell couldn’t soothe you sometimes and had to call me. For me, stopping your tears was the easiest thing in the world.”
Lucas’s eyelids lowered gently.
When he first heard of Cordelia’s death and met Fay for the first time, the boy had been wailing—but as soon as he held onto Lucas’s thumb, he’d smiled through his tears.
That tiny hand—so fragile it could’ve broken with the slightest squeeze—remained vivid in his memory.
“It was… quite an extraordinary experience.”
Fay blinked, fascinated by a story about himself he’d never heard before. It felt unreal and yet somehow precious.
Lucas’s lips curved faintly.
“From that day on, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Wondering what you were doing.”
Memories flashed through his mind in order—when he first heard Fay call him “Unca,” when he received that first letter written in clumsy handwriting.
Even during those hellish years he’d lived as Igaluk, Fay had been a small, bright spot in his memories—always lovable.
Feelings he’d never managed to express properly.
“Would you like to see the first letter you gave me someday?”
“You… kept that?”
“I did.”
“…I never knew.”
“I never told you.”
Fay’s mouth opened wide, then he pressed his cheeks hard with both hands. Between his fingers, his flushed cheeks peeked out.
“Fay, I’ve never hated you. And that won’t ever change.”
His voice, steady and sincere, sounded almost sweet. Fay lowered his hands and asked quietly:
“What if… Uncle gets really hurt because of me?”
“I’d still feel the same.”
“Even if you died because of me, you wouldn’t hate me?”
“I wouldn’t.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Even if he were injured—or lost his life—protecting Fay, Lucas would never resent him.
He might be satisfied, even, if that’s what it took to protect him.
“What if someone precious to you dies because of me?”
Someone precious. Instinctively, Helen came to mind, and Lucas almost laughed.
So he’d been denying his feelings this whole time.
He pictured a scenario where Helen died trying to save Fay.
Would he hate Fay then?
No—she’d probably rise from the grave just to grab him by the collar if he dared to.
He let out a small laugh and said the answer that had come to him right away.
“Your uncle isn’t so incompetent that he can’t protect you both.”
He wouldn’t even let such a thing happen in the first place.
Then, patting Fay’s head, he added: “So don’t worry.”
None of the servants could find Fay anywhere.
In the end, I decided to check his room, just in case.
Author, God, Mom—please.
Please don’t let him wander outside on such a gloomy day. The weather could turn bad again, and it’s dangerous for a child to be out there.
Clutching that desperate prayer, I turned the doorknob—and my eyes widened.
Inside, I heard the quiet voices of Fay and the Duke.
‘Ah…’
Hearing that Fay was in there, I finally felt relief.
My legs gave out beneath me, and I sank to the floor.
As I sat there, listening to their conversation, a soft, foolish laugh escaped me.
“Are you planning to just sit there all day?”
A voice came from above my head. I looked up.
Lucas stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking down at me.
Right—of course he would notice me. There was no way he wouldn’t.
“I’ll get up now.”
I felt my lips curl upward uncontrollably, my cheeks lifting all the way to my eyes.
“You’re not getting up—you’re just smiling like a fool.”
A large hand stopped right in front of my face. I grabbed it and stood up.
Our faces were suddenly very close.
Gratefully, I held his hand tighter.
“Lucas. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being Fay’s uncle. No one else could be better.”
I felt ashamed of ever having judged him harshly, calling him a terrible guardian.
He was a wonderful guardian—and a remarkable man.
If only he didn’t hate me so much… that thought slipped out unconsciously.
“What a random thing to say.”
His lips twitched in a slanted smile.
“Auntie.”
From behind his legs, Fay peeked out, fidgeting his fingers before stepping forward.
I pulled him into a tight hug.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve spoken more thoughtfully.”
Even if we couldn’t ignore what had happened, his feelings should’ve come first.
“Thank you for staying inside instead of wandering off.”
“…I’m sowwy too.”
Fay hugged me back.
His warmth—so gentle and bright—made me silently promise myself again and again that I’d never let him be hurt again.
Fay said he couldn’t remember who had told him about the Duke’s illness.
But the words themselves, he remembered vividly.
‘Someone actually said that to a three-year-old?’
It sent chills down my spine.
How many people could a three-year-old possibly meet?
Whoever had said that might still be around Fay.
And since Lucas didn’t know, it was likely someone within the household.
My hair stood on end.
Who knew what that person might try next? I had to find them before they struck again.
I began thinking through everyone who might have known what Fay heard.
It couldn’t be Dion, Gregor, or the butler—if they’d known, Lucas would have too.
Wait. Wasn’t Sally a maid back when Fay was three?
After a moment’s thought, I pulled the cord to summon Sally.
