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Chapter 18
“Is it really alright for you to say that?”
“Who would dare to question me?”
“……”
“Do you know what it took for me to raise the House of Phaeros to this level?”
In the past, the Phaeros dukedom did not hold much prestige in the Empire.
Of course, the position of duke was second only to the imperial family, so it could hardly be called lowly, but even so, the previous duke had been infamous for his indulgence in women and drink, fathering countless children while neglecting all affairs of state.
The one who raised such a family to the point where even the Emperor kept it in check was none other than Caron. It was his ability, and his effort.
“Your Grace… sometimes you don’t feel human.”
El spoke with genuine respect. She was about to add something more when Caron approached.
“I hear that often, El. In one way or another, I hardly resemble my own kind.”
Whether in appearance or in temperament.
El nodded, as though in agreement. That was why, even though people cursed Caron, in the end they still fell under his spell.
“What was your next lesson again?”
Caron lightly pulled El closer as he drew out his pocket watch.
“Ah. Today I have waltz lessons.”
“I’ll go with you.”
He slipped the watch back into his pocket and spoke casually.
“Y-you will?”
“Of course.”
El stammered in surprise.
There were only two lessons El could never quite manage: one was brewing tea, and the other was dancing.
“Don’t you have other business? You’re always busy.”
“Not today. Felix can manage.”
El was left speechless, almost dazed.
By all logic, if she compared her lesson to dealing with the Marquis of Terrelair, the Marquis should clearly have taken precedence.
More than that—
“…The Marquis hasn’t left yet?”
“No. Ever since seeing you, he’s been calling me a bastard to my face.”
“……”
It seemed the Marquis had badly misunderstood.
Yes, El had been confined, but if she had stayed hidden in her room, it was only because it would have been troublesome if the Marquis had found her.
“El.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I despise betrayal.”
“Yes.”
Caron’s jet-black eyes briefly held hers.
El could not even begin to fathom the darkness he carried. Looking into those black eyes felt like being pulled into a pitch-dark abyss.
He soon looked away, opened the door without a care, and stepped outside.
El followed after him, glancing down at his stride as he gradually matched his pace to hers.
Caron Phaeros.
The mad duke of the Empire. A lunatic drunk on blood.
But El knew. That languid air around him was proof of his unease.
“Your Grace.”
“……”
At her call, Caron moved only his eyes. His face filled El’s clear brown gaze.
“As I swore before, I will protect Your Grace’s end. So long as you do not cast me aside.”
“Even knowing that my infamy is no mere rumor?”
“I know. But… I was just Number 8, wandering through the Elrum slums.”
Caron stopped in his tracks.
“El.”
“In the slums, horrors you’ve never seen unfold every single day.”
“……”
“Even when the streets rang with Your Grace’s name, I feared the nobles, but never you. You know how it is—people kill each other in Elrum over a single glass of rum.”
“…I must have been seeing you as too fragile.”
Caron let out a faint breath and began walking again. His firm hand slipped around El’s waist. She was still thin and frail.
“I once dragged the crushed body of a friend run over by a carriage and buried him myself. You can imagine what that looked like.”
“……”
“Your Grace, I don’t startle easily. Whatever you do, I can follow. You are the one who saved me.”
Her eyes shone with blind devotion.
Facing such a gaze, Caron felt both satisfied and oddly stifled.
Was this feeling seeping into his chest pity?
“…Perhaps I do pity you.”
That must be why his chest always grew heavy whenever he looked at her.
“Ah! Your Grace!”
As soon as Caron entered the ballroom, El’s governess sprang to her feet.
Caron waved lazily, as though acknowledging her greeting.
“I only came to take a look.”
“Then, since we’re practicing dancing today, would Your Grace partner with her?”
The governess’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
El thought to herself in silence.
Caron… dancing?
She could only imagine him with a sword in hand, not with his hand at a woman’s waist.
“Very well.”
But Caron replied calmly and led El forward.
Sunlight streamed into the hall. The windows stood half-open, and sheer white curtains billowed softly in the breeze.
The governess, delighted, hurried to sit at the piano.
Music soon filled the room. Caron’s hand slipped skillfully to El’s waist, pulling her close.
“El.”
“Y-you’re too close…!”
El faltered, flustered. But Caron moved with ease, catching her hand and guiding her, until her body flowed naturally into the steps.
“Will you give me your first dance?”
“……”
“Then I shall give you mine as well.”
He bent his head, whispering softly at her ear.
Not only her first dance—she felt as if she might give him her very soul. El’s mind spun under his closeness.
A faint scent clung to him. His hand was cool, but the breath at her ear was hot.
El’s face flushed, her heart pounding wildly out of control.
This wasn’t right.
Alarms screamed in her head.
“El. Answer me.”
“…Y-yes.”
Her voice trembled. Ridiculously, she felt as if she might burst into tears.
It felt like committing a sin she must never dare.
“El?”
The way he said her name was unbearably warm. Her heart thundered so loud it felt like it was in her ears.
Her vision blurred, and instinctively El shoved Caron away.
The governess, startled, ceased playing. Silence filled the room.
“El, what’s wrong—”
“I-I’m sorry!”
Not even knowing what for, El blurted an apology and fled the ballroom.
This was just shock, she told herself. Someone had come too close, startled her body, made her freeze and her heart race.
…Yes. It had to be just that.
“My lord.”
“……”
The old butler’s voice rang in the study.
After El had run out, Caron had holed himself inside, glaring fiercely at the documents on his desk in an attempt to calm his frustration.
“Did something happen with the young lady?”
The butler cautiously spoke again.
“Nothing happened.”
Truly, nothing had happened.
He had simply observed her lesson and acted as her partner. That was all.
“Then why does the young lady not come out of her room?”
“How should I know.”
“My lord… are you certain nothing—”
“It’s nothing to worry about. If I call, she’ll come out.”
Caron’s voice had grown slightly cold.
The butler looked at him with worry.
“Even so, it is not the same as if she comes of her own will.”
“Leave her. It seems she needs time to compose herself.”
Caron pulled the documents closer, answering indifferently.
Once, that composure had seemed reassuring. Now, it worried the butler.
Caron was still stuck on the day of the battle for the dukedom. He might never escape it.
“My lord. This seat is wholly yours now.”
“And why bring that up while speaking of El?”
Caron slammed down the papers irritably.
Behind the silver-rimmed glasses, his black eyes gleamed with such sharpness they seemed capable of killing with a look.
But the butler, who had served him long, knew well Caron did not harm on mere whim.
Thus, he dared to continue.
“I only meant—you could allow yourself a little ease of heart.”
“Ease? If I had been at ease, I would have died last night at the hand of the assassin who came into my chambers.”
“……”
The butler shut his eyes tightly.
Ah. His lord was not like this by nature.
It was his fault—he had spoken carelessly, thinking only of the young lady, not of Caron.
“We old men pray only for your survival. I fear there is no room for leisure.”
Though his tone was calm, his words dripped with venom.
“Have you told the young lady about the retainers’ plotting?”
“No. Nor will I.”
There was no need to frighten El with the vulgar scheming of his vassals.
Caron exhaled a low sigh.
Lately the butler was constantly rushing to shield El. He understood—it must be guilt.
But Caron could not understand it.
El was no child. If anything, she was stronger than most he had ever met.
“Was it not for their sake that you brought her here?”
“Yes. I can hardly wait to see their faces. I wonder if their jaws will drop.”
Caron sneered, removing his glasses.
The retainers.
Even the thought of them made his teeth grind.
He had left them be, as it was difficult to purge them all at once, but they found fault in everything. If it were up to him, he would wipe them out completely.
And still they kept sending “gifts”—assassins at night, colorless tasteless poisons by day.
It was enough to sicken him.
“My lord, but shouldn’t the young lady know?”
“And what would change if she did?”
“…Pardon?”
“Would the outcome be any different, whether El knows or not?”
“……”
“I hate change.”
“……”
“Humans change. Power, honor—everything shifts. The only thing that doesn’t change is fact.”
His tone was casual, but the meaning was ice cold. Even the butler, accustomed to him, pressed his lips shut.
“Where is the benefit in El knowing my plans?”
“My lord, the young lady—”
“Butler. What matters to me is protecting Phaeros. Nothing else.”
“……”
“Why should I trouble myself over fleeting emotions that bloom and wither in a season?”
The butler closed his eyes and bowed deeply.
Caron was a brilliant duke. Nowhere else in the Empire did the people live as prosperously as in Phaeros lands.
He was a workaholic, buried in duties from dawn to dusk, yet he never once complained.
But beyond Phaeros’s prosperity, Caron was utterly indifferent.
“…I have misspoken.”
“Leave me.”
The butler exited the study, but even as he did, he looked back in worry.
Caron sat in his usual composed and leisurely manner. Yet beneath it, the butler glimpsed his lord’s gnawing unease.
(To be continued in
