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Chapter: 23
Damn it.
Things had gotten complicated.
As he headed toward the cemetery where the funeral was being held, Baron Gaspal ground his teeth in irritation.
Those idiots. They couldn’t even steal one lousy key…!
He hadn’t trusted those rootless bandits in the first place.
If they had done their job properly, he would already have sold off that so-called Snowdrop—some tacky antique—and be enjoying a life of luxury in a southern seaside villa.
Instead, he had ended up being chased by creditors and dragged in for questioning by the capital guard, only barely managing to secure his release.
Right after leaving the scene, Gaspal had realized—too late—that he shouldn’t have left Juliet alive. In a panic, he rushed back, but for some reason there was nothing left.
Only dried bloodstains.
The gang he had hired through special connections was infamous for its cruelty. And yet those vicious men had vanished without a trace, along with the bodies of Count and Countess Monad—and Juliet herself.
He didn’t hear anything until four full days later.
Juliet had returned alive, suffering from memory loss. Along with her parents’ bodies.
I knew that girl was hard to kill…
Just like the riding accident three years ago—he never imagined she’d survive again.
Rumors said the shock had erased her memories, but Gaspal couldn’t shake his unease.
If Juliet opened her mouth, she would surely point to him as the culprit.
Sure enough, the very next day after her return, the capital guard arrested him.
Whispers spread that Baron Gaspal was involved in the deaths of the count and countess.
Leaving Juliet alive had been a mistake.
Good thing I prepared an alibi in advance.
Cunning as ever, Gaspal had arranged witnesses the moment he hired the mercenaries.
He immediately presented them, loudly protesting his innocence.
What worked in his favor was that the bandits who had been at the scene had completely disappeared.
The only proof of their existence was Juliet’s testimony.
As expected, the capital guard released him, saying it wasn’t enough to put him on trial.
If even one of those men had survived to testify that Gaspal was the mastermind…
Luck really is on my side!
He congratulated himself, yet a chill crept up the back of his neck.
The case had grown far larger than expected. The Count Monad had powerful friends—rumor even said the Emperor was watching. Even without evidence, Gaspal should have been detained and thoroughly investigated.
Hng… what’s going on here?
It felt as though someone had intervened behind the scenes to secure his freedom.
And that wasn’t all.
Where had the bandits gone? And how had that girl returned unharmed?
The men he hired were ruthless mercenaries. Had they suddenly grown a conscience and let Juliet go out of pity?
“You’re late, Uncle Gaspal.”
The voice came out of nowhere.
Gaspal froze mid-step.
“Y-you…”
In the dim cemetery stood Juliet Monad, alone, dressed in black.
He had heard she was alive, but seeing her in person was far more shocking.
He had expected something to be wrong—anything—but aside from her pale complexion, she looked perfectly fine.
“The funeral is already over. The mourners have all gone home.”
Just then, bells rang out from the temple, tolling for the dead.
Today marked one week since the tragic deaths of Count and Countess Monad.
When Gaspal couldn’t speak, Juliet tilted her head with a mocking smile.
“Why are you so surprised? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“W-who’s surprised?!”
“Is it really that strange that I’m alive?”
“What… what nonsense are you spouting?”
Gaspal glanced around.
Despite it being daytime, dark clouds hung low. Lightning flashed intermittently, though no thunder sounded.
As Juliet said, the mourners were gone.
Aside from the two of them, the only living soul was an old gravedigger dozing off in the distance.
“Do you really think I had anything to do with your parents’ deaths?”
Now that no one was watching, Gaspal raised his voice.
“Thanks to you accusing me, do you have any idea what I went through?!”
The more he spoke, the more confident he became.
The Juliet he remembered was a naïve child—easy to control.
The kind of girl who didn’t even notice the nails hidden under her saddle on her fifteenth birthday gift.
Things had gotten messy, but it was still manageable.
Now that his brother and sister-in-law were dead, he could become Juliet’s guardian and control the entire house.
She was only eighteen. Crush her spirit, and she’d be easy to manipulate.
Fully reassured, Gaspal sneered.
“Do you have proof? Without evidence, accusing someone like this is slander—”
“Oh, proof?”
Juliet suddenly laughed.
“You’re seriously mistaken, Uncle.”
Her cold mockery made him flinch.
“Do you really think I went to all the trouble of having you released just for that?”
“What? What kind of nonsense—”
Gaspal frowned. Had she lost her mind?
He had been released because there was no evidence—despite her accusation.
And he’d only come to the funeral to avoid further suspicion.
Then why is she saying she let me go?
Juliet smiled sweetly.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of putting you on trial.”
“Th-that’s… good of you.”
Even as he replied, Gaspal backed away.
Something was wrong.
Juliet’s bright smile beneath her black mourning dress sent chills down his spine.
There was no wind—so why was her skirt fluttering?
And why was the sky flashing again…?
Thinking the clouds had darkened, Gaspal looked up.
Then he realized.
It wasn’t the sky.
Above him was a swarm of butterflies, radiating an eerie glow.
“A prison is too generous for trash like you.”
“…What?”
“So I’ll end it here.”
The moment her calm voice fell silent, the butterflies surged toward him.
“A-AAAH!”
To Gaspal’s horrified eyes, they were no longer butterflies.
They were massive monsters, jaws gaping—creatures not of this world.
That was the last thing Baron Gaspal ever saw.
With a sickening crunch, the butterfly beasts devoured him alive.
Juliet never once looked away.
When they dispersed, nothing remained but a few drops of blood.
Clatter.
Juliet glanced back at the sound.
The old gravedigger, who had been dozing against his staff, had dropped it.
She blinked once, then lightly placed her finger against her lips.
Trembling, the old man covered his mouth and nodded frantically.
Turning away, Juliet walked calmly across the cemetery.
Her revenge was complete, yet she felt no satisfaction.
So it ends like this.
Despite three years of effort—despite believing she had changed everything—her parents were still dead.
All she had left was herself.
At the cemetery gate stood a black carriage made of ebony.
No crest marked it, yet the attendant opened the door the moment she arrived.
Juliet boarded without a word.
The man seated inside did not look surprised.
Lennox Carlisle quietly observed her as she settled opposite him.
Unexpectedly, Juliet had not asked him to kill Gaspal.
Instead, she had requested Gaspal’s release—and he had granted it.
She had intended to take revenge with her own hands from the start.
How one should judge a woman who looked fragile yet hesitated not to stain her hands with blood—he had yet to decide.
Juliet asked calmly,
“Are you returning to the North?”
“Yes. Have your conditions changed?”
She blinked.
She had tried to live differently from her past life, yet still ended up here.
If the ending couldn’t be changed, perhaps staying by his side was the answer.
She would stay—and leave before it was too late.
Before he abandoned her again.
She was tired. She wanted quiet rest.
Protecting her heart felt trivial compared to what she had endured.
She trusted herself.
This time, she wouldn’t lose herself to the man before her.
“I’ve thought about it.”
Her proposed deal had been simple.
“I’m useful to you, Your Highness. Isn’t that right?”
She would be a convenient lover—no interference, no demands for affection, offering the power of monsters.
In return, she asked for two things:
First, that Baron Gaspal be placed entirely in her hands.
Second, that she be allowed to remain by his side for at least three years.
“That’s not usually called a fair deal.”
Lennox had said so, offering her more time to think.
“So? Have you decided?”
“Yes. Please draw up a contract.”
“A contract?”
“One that allows either of us to leave at any time.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“That’s acceptable.”
Juliet Monad was a woman whose sorrow far exceeded her age.
Strangely, she was far more hauntingly beautiful in a black dress at a cemetery than in pastel gowns at a ballroom.
After studying her silently, Lennox asked,
“Why do you need a contract like this?”
Her pale skin, watery eyes, and light-colored hair made her seem as though she might vanish at any moment.
Yet she was terrifyingly beautiful—like a poisonous flower.
“Because I…”
With eyes devoid of warmth, Juliet answered,
“I fell in love at first sight.”
There was no love in her gaze.
But Lennox Carlisle liked that answer.
“Elliot.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Bring pen and paper.”
Without looking away from Juliet, he added,
“Tell the palace to prepare a bedroom. The one in the south wing.”
Soon after, the carriage set off toward the North.
