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Chapter 38
Do I Even Have a Conscience?
Dominic instinctively stepped back from Daniel, stammering,
“M-me?”
“Yeah, you.”
Why was Daniel calling him “brother” now? Dominic started inching toward the door, ready to run.
“Did I really say that? I can’t remember…”
“If you’re done pretending, leave. Go upstairs and let everyone know the guests will arrive tomorrow.”
“Who should I tell? The duchess?”
“Is there anyone else who needs to know besides the lady of the house?”
Dominic scratched behind his ear, looking troubled.
“I’d rather not see the duchess right now, especially with Sir Rosibalt there.”
Dominic pouted as Daniel shot him a look that said, “What nonsense are you talking about?”
“Rosibalt found out I knew about the secret vault and kept quiet. She glared at me like she’d kill me. She’s probably telling the duchess everything right now. There’s no way I’m going up there. I can’t do it.”
“Since when did you care about that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then?”
Dominic sat on the desk, crossing his arms.
“Can I drop the formal speech?”
“If you want to die.”
Dominic sighed so heavily it sounded like the floor might collapse.
“Even if you don’t kill me, I might die soon anyway. Doing things I don’t usually do makes me feel weird. My conscience is bothering me, Daniel.”
“I didn’t know you even had one.”
Dominic quickly took his hands off his face and yelled,
“That’s what I’m saying! Dominic Molly can’t have a conscience. With all the things I’ve done, nobody with a conscience could live like that.”
He stood up and paced, tapping his arm nervously.
“You know what I’m like. I learned how to cheat people before I learned how to read. I survived by pretending to be sick, weak, and scared. My dad might be dead, and my mom was terrible—what do you expect?”
If Lady Laura hadn’t taken him in, he would have turned out even worse. He tried to act good for her sake, but you can’t change your nature. If it wasn’t for her last wish, he would have died long ago.
“If you die a useless death, I won’t forgive you, Dominic.”
That was Lady Laura’s final advice to him when he was a wild fifteen-year-old set on revenge.
“Dying is meaningless. You can take revenge after you’re strong. Just survive, Dominic. Stay alive and be there for him. If you die foolishly, I won’t meet you in heaven.”
Dominic’s life was simple: survive no matter what, save Daniel, and get revenge on the old fox at Schendel Castle. That’s all he lived for.
Dominic stopped pacing and went back to the desk, thumping his chest with his right hand.
“Someone like me—do you believe it? For the past three years, my chest has ached from guilt. Can you believe that?”
He was honestly afraid to face the duchess now. The thought of seeing disappointment in her bright violet eyes made him miserable. He buried his head in his hands.
“Maybe I should have just given her the key. I never promised to always be loyal to you. Lady Laura just said to stay by your side, not only care about you. Ugh. Rosibalt probably told her everything. How am I supposed to face the duchess now?”
Daniel watched him quietly, then got up and headed for the door. As he left, his voice dropped cold and low.
“Stop whining and get lost.”
Dominic Molly, suffering from a guilty conscience—that was another memory Daniel wished he could forget.
As Daniel was coming up the stairs, he met Muriel. She bowed and called out,
“Your Grace.”
Daniel didn’t fully turn but lowered his gaze. Muriel, a bit shorter than Dominic, could see his eyes easily.
“Speak.”
“Could you check on the lady before dawn? She seems to have a slight fever, but insists she’s fine.”
Daniel glanced at the duchess’s bedroom door, then looked back at Muriel.
“What about the doctor?”
“She refused to call for him because it’s late. She said not to worry; if it gets worse, she has medicine from Anton. But I think she’s not well, since she was out all day.”
“…All right.”
Muriel bowed again.
“Thank you, Your Grace. Good night.”
This time, Daniel stopped her.
“Did you tell the lady?”
“Pardon? May I ask what you mean?”
Daniel paused, then spoke quietly,
“That Dominic kept the secret vault from her.”
Muriel’s calm gray eyes flickered with emotion, but she answered,
“No, I haven’t told her.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to see her get hurt.”
Every time the lady sold her jewelry or furniture, Dominic handled it all, always with a brazen smile, comforting her.
“The lady trusts others easily. She doesn’t know how to deceive, and thinks others will treat her the same way.”
She never realized Dominic was hiding something. She even thanked him with a bright smile, thinking it was lucky he was around.
“She trusts Dominic… and likes him very much.”
But how could Muriel tell her the truth—that all his kindness was fake, and she meant nothing to Dominic Molly?
“If she finds out, it will hurt her deeply.”
Muriel clenched her fists in anger just thinking about it. If Frida ever learned the truth… She could never say it.
“A bodyguard who hides the truth out of fear of causing pain… Fantastic. So perfect.”
Daniel’s quiet but strong voice echoed in the hallway. Muriel noticed what seemed almost like a smile.
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
Muriel saw a clear, unmistakable smile on Daniel’s face.
“You really think my wife won’t live much longer.”
He smiled with perfect sarcasm and scorn.
“That’s too bad. I don’t agree with you—I might just hurt her after all.”
Lying in bed, Frida rubbed her sore throat.
“Is it because I was in all that dust? Cough, cough.”
The library hadn’t been cleaned in over a month, so it was full of cobwebs and musty smells. Now that Baron Boild and his wife were coming, she was more worried about every little thing.
“Maybe I should fix up Brabant Hall. It cost so much just to clean Scadi Hall—I could buy more bulbs with that money.”
Turk traders would arrive in a month. Thanks to Ricardo, the fields were almost ready. What else did she need to do? She hoped Muriel would give Dominic the money she’d set aside for him.
“Cough, cough. I hope I don’t get a fever.”
Frida pulled her blanket up to her chin, feeling chills even in the warm spring room.
“Don’t worry, Frida. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
She had taken Anton’s medicine, so after a good sleep, she’d be fine. When she woke up, the first thing she wanted to do was find Daniel. She noticed he was quiet after she said, “You’re not my type today.”
“That’s what happens when you go quiet and just blame yourself. Oh well, I’ll have to cheer him up.”
She smiled, then drifted off to sleep, the light by her bed getting dimmer.
A few hours later, Daniel crept into her room and checked her face. She was still smiling in her sleep. Daniel stopped breathing for a moment and carefully brushed her hair off her forehead to check for fever. He couldn’t tell if the warmth on his hand was hers or his own. He stared at her quietly.
She’s so small. But somehow, she keeps seeming bigger and bigger. Everyone around her—Dominic and Ricardo, even the knight from Rosibalt—always worries about her.
“I don’t really know. Today’s duke… just isn’t my type.”
Why did that bother him so much?
“I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
Why did Rosibalt’s shield around her annoy him?
Frida’s cheeks seemed flushed in her sleep.
‘Does she really have a fever?’
Daniel was about to touch her cheek when he remembered what his mother used to do.
“Daniel, come here. I think you have a fever.”
Daniel knelt on the bed, leaned over Frida, and gently touched his forehead to hers. She was hot.
“You… have a fever.”
Or maybe, it was just him.
