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Chapter 23
“Who exactly is that person? And what is that power…?”
Genos recalled the bright yellow pupils that had suddenly narrowed vertically.
In a way, it was a bizarre scene, but he didn’t feel fear.
It was a sensation different from fear—a feeling of being overwhelmed.
A sense of obedience, as if entrusting everything to that person was only natural…
It was even more dangerous because it didn’t feel dangerous.
Genos was a highly cautious man.
His life had always been accompanied by suspicion and alertness.
“René Blanche said it wasn’t her, but judging by that reaction, she must be lying. Still, like Katarina Hugo said, it doesn’t seem like a relationship mixed with affection…”
Everything was utterly unpredictable.
Genos retraced his memories again.
On the day of the festival, it was as if he had been possessed by something.
Meeting a strange man, swept up in the atmosphere pretending to be a happily married couple, and really releasing lanterns together in perfect harmony…
Even after returning to the Grand Duke’s castle, Genos remained dazed for quite some time.
He might have been slightly drunk.
On that day, he had slept deeply for the first time in a long while.
[Haa. This will keep me at ease for a while. Even if temporarily.]
For someone like Genos, who rarely had a full night’s sleep, this was extraordinary.
For a few days after the festival, everything felt surprisingly peaceful.
He thought he might finally escape this cursed mania.
“Where… am I?”
As expected, once the dreamlike peace ended, the mania worsened.
The day after thinking he had slept soundly, Genos woke up in the bushes, feeling miserable.
It had been only sleepwalking within the castle, yet his bare feet were covered in scratches from wandering outside for who knows how long.
[I’ll come soon. Hold on until then.]
The man who gave him such a petty hope and then took everything away.
There was only one thing Genos could predict about his identity.
“But… it’s still not certain. Nothing is.”
The man he had encountered at the festival had disappeared after saying something incomprehensible.
He had promised to come looking for him, but Genos’ mania only deepened in response, making him anxious.
Ultimately, the key to this mystery rested with…
‘René Blanche.’
That woman again.
Feeling uneasy, Genos immediately sought out René.
But the reply he received was unexpected.
“Your Grace, I apologize. The lady has caught a severe cold. Her fever is very high.”
The maid who had been stationed with her stopped Genos outside the cabin, forcing him to turn back.
Genos vividly remembered the image of her shivering by the river that evening during the festival.
Even though he had given her his coat, she had still caught a cold.
The cloak had dragged on the ground due to their height difference, making it a mess…
“Is her body really that fragile?”
He also recalled René in the top tower’s end room.
Was all her morning exercises meant to train her stamina?
Seeing her living quarters with his own eyes felt strange.
The old cabin was cramped and worn down.
Yet she seemed perfectly content and even smiled about it.
“…”
It felt absurdly foolish.
Even that modesty annoyed him.
Yet, somehow, he even thought of offering her a room in the main residence.
Was it pity? Or compassion?
But pitying a Blanche family woman seemed almost laughable.
Moreover, if he made such an offer, René would surely respond:
‘I don’t want it. Why would I?’
…He didn’t even need to see it to know she’d refuse.
After facing her, he had a rough sense of what kind of person she was.
Yet that didn’t make it any less ridiculous to suddenly change his assessment of René Blanche.
Walking through the fog with no end in sight, Genos’ chest grew tight.
Then, there was a knock.
Knock knock.
“Your Grace, it’s Karl.”
“Come in.”
Karl, the old butler, entered the study with a proper greeting.
“It seems that Her Grace the Duchess visited the main residence library. She thought no one would know, but I instructed the staff not to go near the library and to pretend not to know anything.”
“…”
Listening silently, Genos set down the pen he had been holding and stood up.
The documents bore only ink stains from the pen rather than words, proof of his deep thought.
“Shall I bring tea?”
Karl, quick to sense the situation, asked.
Although there was no tea scheduled for today, he seemed to want to prepare a tea time with René.
Genos shook his head lightly.
“No. But make sure not a single ant wanders near the library until I come out.”
Genos’ heavy boots echoed through the hallway, his mind consumed by thoughts of one woman.
‘…Why did I come here?’
Despite muttering to himself, he found himself in front of the library.
He carefully turned the bronze door handle.
Having recently undergone a thorough cleaning, the door swung open silently.
Before him sat a figure.
“…”
A tomb of old books, as if time itself had stopped.
René Blanche sat silently in the center, immersed in her books, seemingly unaware of Genos’ presence.
The pages fluttered softly as sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting multicolored lights near her face.
The light drifted slowly along her silver hair, flowing down to her waist like strands drawn from moonlight.
She tucked her hair behind her ear lazily, as if it were an inconvenience, revealing her delicate face.
“…!”
Her earlier complaint of illness seemed true.
She appeared slightly thinner than a few days ago, yet her beauty remained.
Long, lush eyelashes, and crimson eyes that drew the gaze of anyone who looked.
In the noble society of Rembrandt, there was a legend that a red-eyed illegitimate child brought misfortune to a family.
Seeing René’s eyes, one could faintly guess the nature of that misfortune.
‘She… enchants people.’
Her eyes were like pure rubies, or freshly blooming roses.
Once your gaze was caught, it was hard to look away.
Perhaps that’s why the Blanche family had hidden her so carefully.
Yet it wasn’t a reason to hate her.
René was extremely thin and small.
Her pale, almost marble-like skin appeared cold and smooth.
Yet Genos had felt her warmth before—the small hand he had inadvertently held that night.
Her hand, half the size of his, was now turning the pages busily.
Thinking of its surprising warmth, Genos shivered unconsciously.
Suddenly, René lifted her head.
Their eyes met.
“Ah.”
A small gasp escaped her lips.
Genos stared at her silently, thinking,
‘Who… are you really?’
What kind of being could have such an effect on him…
“Who… are you?”
For some reason, my cheek itched, so I looked up.
The Grand Duke was standing right at the door.
Perhaps our eyes had just met.
‘Damn it. Did I see it wrong? Please let me have seen it wrong.’
Squinting to focus, I tried to confirm it, but to no avail.
Only one person in this castle matched that face and build.
‘He’s going to rage about me using this place without permission again.’
From experience, the Grand Duke, despite his broad chest, had a petty temper.
If he disapproved of something, he would find fault in everything.
So avoiding him was the best option.
‘Not because I’m scared of him, but because he’s filthy. Pfft.’
Cursing internally, I jumped up, intending to act before he could say anything.
“I-I’m sorry. I heard no one used this room… But I should have asked permission. Sorry for using it without asking. I’ll leave now.”
But the Grand Duke stopped me with an unexpected word.
