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Chapter 41
Clemens smiled kindly and took the man’s hand.
“No, open your eyes. You just need to listen.”
At that, the man’s eyes snapped open. Seeing his pupils quiver with fear, Clemens spoke as if in a monologue.
“The reason you want to speak but can’t… it’s probably because of a drug, right?”
For a brief moment, the man’s breath caught.
Clemens’s eyes softened with kindness.
She had always been an object of fear, disgust, and avoidance. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t affected, but she was already used to it.
So she had studied ways to make people even more afraid.
And the thing people feared most was the unknown.
Her grandmother, a fortune teller, had made the most of that mystery.
A kind of wonder that seemed to read a person’s thoughts and emotions, even though it wasn’t magic.
Clemens had learned that technique.
Her intention was simple: if they were already afraid without doing anything, she would make them even more afraid. She hadn’t imagined the childish skill she learned as a child would be used like this.
“I won’t ask what kind of drug you used right now. But it must have been one that puts your life at stake, right? What else could it be?”
Clemens tapped lightly on the back of the man’s hand with innocent playfulness. His hand reddened, as if he had touched a hot stove.
“Trying to steal a horse from the stable means you were planning to run away. Then, what did you do in the mansion? Oh, right. Did you go to the underground prison?”
“He even left me a threatening note! Telling me to leave tomorrow!”
“Ah, it must have been during the day, so you probably checked the mansion’s situation too. Busy, huh? Did you give the information you got through a letter? Magic? Or in person?”
Each time she spoke, her crescent-shaped eyes carefully studied the man’s reaction. Every word she slowly pronounced drew a different response.
At the last question, the man’s Adam’s apple moved.
“So you decided to deliver it in person.”
The man instinctively opened his mouth. His heart sank, and even in the heat, the tips of his fingers felt ice-cold.
“H-How…?”
“Okay, let’s summarize. You can’t speak because of the drug. You investigated information about us. You’ll deliver that information in person. And what did you do in the underground prison? You can’t tell me that either?”
The man bit his lips until they bled and shook his head.
How did she figure it out? He hadn’t said a word, yet she had pinpointed the big picture perfectly.
It wouldn’t take long to find out what he did in the underground prison.
After all, an important clue and witness to them was dead. It would be strange not to know.
‘Even if the Duke doesn’t kill me, eventually I’d die anyway. If I’m going to die…’
He wanted to die without pain. All at once, without suffering.
“If I speak, I die. Even if I don’t go back, I die. Then it’s a better life to die as a loyal subordinate.”
A barely audible voice scattered across the room.
“…I didn’t take it because I wanted to.”
Cough! Suddenly, the man spat up bright red blood. That was the end of him. Choosing death on his own terms had been the best he could do.
Harbi, startled, checked for a pulse and shook his head.
Caught off guard, Zephyrus tried to steady his breathing. Clemens looked down at the now-cold man with an unreadable expression.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
“Your Grace! I’m sorry to interrupt. But there’s something you must know.”
Gwen spoke in a serious tone.
“The prisoner in the dungeon has died.”
And in a horrifying state, with his skin torn across his body.
“Huh.”
Harbi let out a bitter sigh.
The death of Hash in the underground prison. It was immediately clear what he had done once in the dungeon, lying cold in the room.
Zephyrus’s breathing became unstable. The air grew so cold it felt as if it could freeze everything.
His mind was a whirlwind.
Nerhi, who wanted to drag him down and become the Duke? Zephyrus could understand that.
But killing a prisoner, Hash? That was different.
He had killed a subordinate who trusted and followed him. A vassal the Duke was responsible for.
Anger followed confusion.
Until now, he had believed he had no right to be angry.
Disappointed by the guild so they didn’t come? Severing ties?
He thought it would have happened eventually, even without Nerhi.
And then even his mother and godfather might have given up on him.
But this was different. This was something that should never be done by someone responsible at the top.
“Nerhi… did he give the antidote?”
“No, no. Rather…”
Harbi organized his words. He wanted to speak at length, in detail, to vent in a way he couldn’t to anyone else.
But now wasn’t the time.
“My grandson is sick. Even the famous physicians don’t know the cause or the disease. But Nerhi, that guy, says there’s a cure.”
Even in that brief paragraph, Zephyrus grasped what had happened.
He knew the heartache of seeing his own family fall ill without knowing why.
Even if he knew he shouldn’t, he would be drawn in.
“Did you check for endemic diseases in the desert?”
“Yes.”
Zephyrus’s expression turned cold as he spoke.
“The drug must be administered continuously for such threats to work. How much time remains before the next dose?”
“Since it was received before the caravan arrived, about a week remains.”
“Perhaps we should have the physician I mentioned earlier examine him.”
Meaning, he would summon Airit, the physician well-versed in medicinal herbs.
“Yes. Thank you.”
The conversation ended there. Zephyrus composed himself and closed his eyes. With a silent command, Clemens opened the door for them.
“Farewell.”
“You…”
Seeing Clemens still maintain a bright presence despite the blood-stained maid uniform made Harbi’s throat tighten.
Capturing a spy and conducting an unusual interrogation naturally. In fact, from Harbi’s perspective, Clemens herself was the most suspicious.
The Duke, who had so often rejected him, allowed the maid to open the door unbidden without objection. That was strange too.
Drawn by the Duke’s aura, the rapidly unfolding situation had firmly set the course toward him.
‘No. No. I have to trust it now.’
Harbi suppressed the rising unease. He could only hope that the next week would pass, and things would turn out well.
**
With Harbi gone, only Clemens and Zephyrus remained.
“Did you sleep at all today? Huh?”
Despite Clemens’ teasing, Zephyrus gave no reply. Only his trembling eyes scanned her.
“I’ll clean up the room first. We can talk in detail afterward.”
As Harbi opened the door to leave, Gwen carried out the body with a cold, unreadable expression.
His suspicious glance briefly flickered at Clemens before disappearing.
The only thing left was the evidence that someone had survived. Clemens cleaned it up thoroughly, even removing the blood-stained maid uniform.
Zephyrus, unsure what to say, suddenly turned in surprise.
“What are—”
“I have a slip under my dress.”
“That’s the problem.”
“It covers far more than what I wore in the desert. You can let it slide.”
Clemens spoke calmly, uncharacteristically so. Silence followed as she plopped onto the sofa. Zephyrus hesitated, then finally spoke.
“…I wish you had at least a blanket.”
“It’s hot.”
Her firm refusal returned.
Clemens, knees tucked under a pure white slip, rested her face on them with eyes closed.
He felt her breath ripple through her hair. It was a side of Clemens he had never seen.
“You must have a lot of questions. I know. But I also need a little time.”
Unlike her usually clear voice, it drifted softly, almost muttering. Zephyrus flinched.
He felt the urge to rush forward and hold her.
“All right! Done!”
But before he could commit, Clemens suddenly sprang up.
“I almost started another fire. Now, let’s interrogate!”
Her lively tone made Zephyrus blink.
“A fire…?”
“Yes. Like how you freeze the surroundings, I can create a blaze if I’m careless.”
Clemens laughed, recalling how much she caused as a child, just as she always had.
‘Come to think of it…’
Since the spy had bitten his tongue and died, Zephyrus had been shaken.
Even if the room were filled with ice, it wouldn’t have mattered.
But he had never seen moisture like this before. Only now did he realize it had melted and disappeared before even forming.
That’s why he was half-convinced Clemens could control his curse.
They were in similar situations.
While Zephyrus had wasted time in despair, trapped by his curse, Clemens had been fighting for survival.
Even just closing her eyes in silence was enough to steady the tremor within.
On Clemens’s bright smile lingered traces of her desperate struggle. Zephyrus lowered his head, secretly wiping away that emotion and burying it in his chest.
To carry on her battle.
