FJ 13

Chapter: 13

“I came to borrow the Eye of Argos.”

“W-what…?”

He had steeled himself to some extent, but the High Priest still gaped.

Its formal name was The Hundred Eyes of Argos.

It was a second-class holy relic currently owned by the Grand Temple in the capital. Its rank itself was not particularly high, but because of its long history, it was a symbolic treasure of the Papal See.

Turning pale, the High Priest resisted stubbornly.

“Th-that is something I could never hand over, even if it cost me my head! No matter how powerful a duke of the North you may be, seizing a holy relic is—”

But the duke lightly furrowed his brow, looking mildly troubled.

“I said I’d borrow it. I never said I’d seize it.”

…Did he?

Only then did the High Priest retrace his memory and realize he had been too quick to give up his neck, which left him feeling awkward.

However, at the words that followed so calmly from Duke Carlisle, the High Priest’s face went deathly pale once more.

“But killing you and taking it wouldn’t be a bad option either. I don’t have much time.”

Eeek.

The young priest standing beside them with a lantern let out a silent gasp.

“So,” the duke asked, “what will it be?”

“N-no, even so, we cannot casually lend out the temple’s treasures—”

“If you hand it over, I’ll return the Northern temple in exchange.”

Just for lending out a holy relic, he would return the Northern temple?

At this truly unprecedented offer, the High Priest quickly began sliding the abacus beads in his head.

The Eye of Argos was a famous tracking-type holy relic.

If Duke Carlisle wanted it, that meant he was searching for something—whether a person or an object, he couldn’t be sure.

No matter how far away the target was, this terrifying tool could pinpoint its location in an instant. The only way to neutralize it was to counter it with a holy relic of the same rank or higher.

The High Priest found himself wondering who it was that Duke Carlisle was searching for so desperately that he would even offer to return a temple.

In any case, the one in a hurry was Duke Carlisle. He thought it would be worth raising the stakes.

If things went well, he might be able to squeeze some gold out of the duke. Perhaps even earn himself a promotion to a higher post.

Having finished his calculations, the High Priest put on a deliberately solemn expression.

“However, Duke, a sacred holy relic cannot be used for private purposes—”

“You seem to be under a rather serious misunderstanding, High Priest.”

You brat. Even though he was speaking politely, it somehow felt condescending.

But with a single sentence, Duke Carlisle utterly crushed the High Priest’s ambitious plan.

“When did I ever say I was negotiating?”

* * *

The station on the outskirts of the capital was deserted and quiet.

It was no wonder. It was already well past midnight. People drunk on the festive atmosphere were busy eating, drinking, and celebrating the New Year all night long.

Juliet saw fireworks launched from the direction of the Imperial Palace rising into the sky.

The fireworks embroidered across the pitch-black night were so vivid that they were clearly visible even from the outskirts of the capital.

After gazing blankly at the bright, dazzling bursts as they bloomed extravagantly, Juliet fastened her collar.

It was cold enough that even the small sigh escaping her lips seemed as if it might freeze solid.

Flap.

Suddenly, several butterflies with bluish-glowing wings appeared from nowhere and fluttered around her.

Their luminous wings stood out all the more in the darkness.

Juliet frowned slightly.

Since she hadn’t called them and they had come out on their own, it seemed her control had weakened considerably.

That was hardly surprising—today, Juliet had forced herself to use a great deal of mana.

Perhaps because of that, the butterflies were in an agitated state.

Communicating through wavelengths only Juliet could hear, the butterflies angrily protested about how a part of them had been annihilated at the duke’s residence just a short while ago.

Though they appeared to be separate individuals, the butterflies were actually a single collective that shared one consciousness.

One that settled on the back of Juliet’s hand chattered on about what had happened the moment the illusion she had cast was broken.

Thanks to that, Juliet could hear about what had taken place in the mansion after she left, as if she had seen it herself.

The one who had seen through and shattered her illusion must have been that man.

“I see. So that’s how it was.”

The monster in the form of a butterfly whined petulantly through a wavelength only she could hear, like a sulking child.

She had expected them to be angry about being overworked, but unexpectedly, that wasn’t their complaint.

They instead tattled to their contractor about how merciless the man who had destroyed part of them had been.

They grumbled about how painful it had been the instant their wings were pierced by daggers.

“Did it hurt a lot?”

Of course, it was all exaggeration.

The true body of this monster was a vast, powerful god that existed beyond dimensions. There was no way it could truly feel pain.

<It hurt. A lot, a lot.>
<Man. Human. Insolent. Strong. For what he is.>
<Contractor. Human. Like. Fine.>
<That one. Man. Human. Hate.>

Still, the butterflies seized the opportunity to complain to their heart’s content, and Juliet, knowing full well it was an act, listened in silence.

Satisfied at last, the evil and childish monster indulged in clumsy human speech for a while longer before leaving.

And Juliet was left alone once more.

She wasn’t particularly worried about the man’s pursuit, which the butterflies had warned her about.

Before long, she would be far away from the capital. No matter how capable Duke Carlisle’s subordinates were, it would be impossible for them to find her in such a short amount of time.

Sitting alone on the silent platform, Juliet simply wondered when the train would arrive.

There were seats inside the station building, but she had deliberately come outside to wait.

She wiggled her toes.

She was dressed so plainly that it was hard to believe she was the same person who had attended the Imperial Palace’s New Year’s banquet just a few hours earlier.

A simple, colorless dress with a long skirt reaching her ankles. She had neatly twisted her hair up and hadn’t forgotten to bring a black veil to cover her face.

As Juliet gauged how much time remained until the train arrived, she looked down at her feet.

Instead of the beautiful high-heeled shoes she had worn while moving through the banquet hall, she now wore plain leather boots.

The boots that wrapped around her ankles were practical in every way for travel, yet Juliet felt strangely lonely.

It felt like a lie that just hours ago she had been gliding across the palace ballroom atop slender, high heels.

Suddenly, Juliet recalled an old fairy tale—the story of a kind heroine who fled the ball in a hurry to avoid the midnight hour when the magic would break.

“But it’s hard to run away in glass slippers.”

And I’m not kind, nor am I a heroine.

That was why, instead of wearing elegant silver shoes with high heels, she had chosen sturdy leather boots to run away in.

And yet, Juliet realized that she was unconsciously longing for those silver shoes.

Finding herself rather ridiculous, she smiled softly to herself.

Who would have thought that in her final moments, it wouldn’t be a heartless lover or tender memories that came to mind, but a pair of beautiful shoes she had left behind at the mansion?

Everything Juliet had enjoyed at Lennox Carlisle’s side as the duke’s lover was like those glass slippers from the fairy tale.

A fragile illusion that would vanish at midnight—or the moment the fickle man lost interest.

Lennox Carlisle had been a very generous lover. Even without being asked, he readily bestowed lavish gifts upon her—beautiful dresses, jewels like ornate crowns. If she so much as mentioned it, anything could become hers.

‘When in truth, he didn’t care even a fingernail’s worth.’

Anyone would eventually grow accustomed to such a life and naturally mistake it for having won his heart.

But Juliet had never been mistaken from the beginning. Because she knew that one day, she would be cast aside.

Those extravagant gifts had nothing whatsoever to do with affection.

Affection—Lennox Carlisle was far removed from such soft, pliable emotions.

“I won’t trouble Your Highness.”

In truth, those words were not spoken to him, but were a vow she made to herself.

A vow never to misunderstand, never to expect anything. If you expect nothing, you won’t be hurt.

Several years ago, Juliet had once bumped into an unfamiliar woman at a banquet. She didn’t know the woman’s name or face, but the moment she saw Juliet, she spoke as if she had been waiting for her.

“Enjoy it while you can.”

A pointed piece of advice.

“The duke gets bored very easily.”

If the woman’s tone had been openly hostile, Juliet might have brushed it off. But she didn’t.

Before Juliet could respond, the woman hurriedly left the banquet hall, as if afraid someone might see her.

Juliet had wanted to tell her that it was advice she didn’t need. After all, the person who knew Lennox Carlisle best was none other than herself.

Still, on the way back to the ducal residence, Juliet quietly turned the woman’s words over in her mind.

“How vulgar.”

“Does she have no sense of shame?”

“What a waste of the Count of Monad family’s name.”

People sneered at her, saying they couldn’t understand how, as a noble lady rather than some lowborn woman, she could openly act as a mistress.

They were people she had never even met, but ever since becoming his lover, she had had to grow accustomed to baseless hostility.

Juliet smiled faintly.

Perhaps it would have been better to pretend not to hear, or to tear up and let it slide. At the very least, maybe she should have cried her heart out and complained to that busy man.

But Juliet was neither kind nor fragile enough for that. Instead of secretly blotting away tears with a handkerchief, she always chose to overturn her teacup.

As a result, Duke Carlisle’s infamy only grew—but so what?

Contrary to people’s sneers, enduring life at his side was no great hardship for Juliet. She had expected nothing from the start.

Becoming Lennox Carlisle’s lover was such an easy thing to do. But it seemed that protecting her heart was not.

To that man, it didn’t have to be her. Anyone would have done, so long as there was someone to warm his bed.

Tap.

Juliet deliberately ignored the single tear that fell onto the back of her hand.