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Chapter – 05
Evangeline tried for a long time after that, but even by the deep hours of dawn, she still couldn’t read the earth’s memory connected to Carlisle.
“Young master, you should go now. The knights watching you will return soon.”
“Ah, right. I should.”
At Maranello’s words, Carlisle let go of Evangeline’s hand and took out his handkerchief to wipe it.
After holding hands with her for hours, his palms were drenched in sweat.
“I—I’m sorry.”
Evangeline, embarrassed by Carlisle’s action, shyly wiped her own hands on her dirty apron.
Carlisle didn’t respond to her apology.
“A bit disappointing.”
“……”
“Well, it’s your first time. You still don’t know much of the Spirit Tongue.”
The Spirit Tongue — the language used only by spirits.
For a novice spiritist, the first step was to learn that language from their contracted spirit in order to communicate.
“Yes…”
“You’ll get it with practice. Try working with your younger siblings. I’m under house arrest, so I can’t come every day. I’ll send Sir Maranello every night — let me know right away if you succeed.”
“Yes, young master.”
“Then, I’m off. Be careful on your way home.”
Carlisle said that, then turned and walked toward the castle, leaving Evangeline behind.
“Do you really think that girl can read the memory of the earth?”
“Probably.”
Carlisle answered Maranello’s question.
“Reading the earth’s memory isn’t that difficult a spell. She’s just inexperienced.”
“And if you really are the culprit, what will you do then?”
“What else?”
Carlisle let out a short, dry laugh as if to say, Is that really a question?
“I’ll confess everything and beg for my life.”
“Heh…”
“It’s the only option.”
Indeed, Evangeline was his only hope now.
The trial was only a week away.
There wasn’t enough time to prove that Jeffrey — the supposed eyewitness — was actually a spy sent by the rival House of Loren.
And in this climate of unrest, accusing Jeffrey of being an enemy spy could easily backfire.
“Well, even if I’m not the culprit, as long as I’m not executed, that’s fine. As long as I stay alive, there’ll come a chance someday — whether to prove my innocence or pay for my sins.”
“That won’t be easy.”
“Can’t be helped. My life’s in my father’s hands anyway.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Hmm…”
Carlisle hesitated.
Having already died once and now living in someone else’s body, his view of death was naturally… different.
“I don’t know about dying,” he said slowly.
“But living… that scares me.”
“Pardon?”
Maranello felt something strange in Carlisle’s words.
Normally, he would’ve dismissed anything the spoiled, vicious young master said — but this time…
He sounds like someone who’s completely exhausted by life itself, Maranello thought.
At least, that one sentence did.
The next day.
Because he’d spent the night visiting Evangeline, Carlisle slept late and didn’t get up until the sun was already high.
It was nearly three in the afternoon by the time he awoke. He ate, enjoyed tea, and spent the afternoon quietly — sometimes reading on the terrace.
“What’s with him? Why’s he so quiet? Did he give up?”
“Who knows? Still, be careful. He might snap any second.”
“He looks so calm though. How can anyone be like that? His trial’s soon! Does he think he’ll get away again?”
The servants whispered nervously.
Watching him now, it was hard to believe this was the same man — the infamous troublemaking scoundrel they all knew.
He was too calm, almost unsettlingly so — like sitting next to a powder keg that could go off at any moment.
But Carlisle paid no attention to their stares. He simply went about his quiet routine.
Even his appearance had changed.
He used to be obsessed with his looks — always dressed to perfection, hair meticulously styled, even wearing light makeup despite being a man.
Now he wore loose trousers and a half-unbuttoned shirt, wandering barefoot through the room without even slippers.
Of course, with a face as handsome as his, such things hardly mattered. In fact, he looked more natural this way — a touch of languid decadence that made him seem even more attractive.
Carlisle himself never spared a glance at the mirror.
That evening—
“Young master, I’ve spoken with Miss Evangeline.”
“What did she say?”
“She still hasn’t succeeded.”
“She probably needs more time. I see. Go check again tomorrow.”
“Yes, young master.”
Carlisle remained completely calm at the report.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Maranello asked.
“Why?”
“I thought you might be anxious.”
“Panicking won’t help. This depends entirely on her. I’m the one in a hurry, not her.”
“Heh…”
“Actually, don’t go tomorrow. Go the day after instead. If she feels pressured, she’ll just get worse.”
Now Maranello was truly speechless.
The Carlisle he knew would never stay this composed — let alone show patience.
“Are you really all right, young master?”
“If all else fails, I’ll make a deal with my father.”
“A… deal, my lord?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I don’t know what you could possibly offer the Grand Duke, but—”
Maranello nearly jumped in alarm, but Carlisle ignored him.
Explaining every little thing as a man possessing someone else’s body was tiring.
“Stop fussing. I don’t want to talk about it. My mouth’s tired.”
“But, young ma—”
“Say one more word, and I’ll swallow this.”
Carlisle picked up the fork from his half-eaten cake and made a motion to shove it down his own throat, his expression completely blank.
“……”
Maranello immediately fell silent.
Anyone else might have brushed it off as a ridiculous threat, but with that empty face of his, Carlisle actually looked like he would do it.
That night.
Carlisle was just drifting off to sleep when — click — his window opened.
An assassin?
Startled, he instinctively reached for the dagger hidden beneath his pillow.
But a moment later, he thought better of it.
No… If someone wanted to kill me, they’d have done it long ago. Then who…?
Just as he was thinking that—
“Carlisle.”
A low, husky, almost androgynous voice called his name.
Ah.
He recognized that voice immediately.
My aunt.
It was Hestia — his mother Adelia’s younger sister.
“Carlisle, Carlisle.”
“……”
“Carlisle, wake u—”
“You’re here.”
Hestia flinched in surprise.
“You could’ve at least made a sound. Goodness…”
“……”
“Hurry up and pack your things.”
“Why?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
Hestia’s eyes flashed with reproach.
“Ah.”
Carlisle realized why she was here — and nodded slightly, as if it made perfect sense.
“So that’s why you came. But I’m not going.”
“What?”
“I said, I’m not going.”
“Then you’re just going to die? By your father’s hand, no less?”
Her tone sharpened, her glare fierce enough to make anyone flinch.
“Do you ever think — even for a second — about your mother?”
Hestia’s voice dropped low, laced with anger and grief, careful not to let the sound escape beyond the door.
“Do you have any idea how much she would suffer in heaven if she saw what’s happening? Because of you?”
Carlisle didn’t answer.
She’s already dead, he thought.
Of course, he didn’t dare say that aloud — not unless he wanted a slap across the face.
He wasn’t stupid or tactless enough to invite that.
“If you die now, your mother won’t ever rest in peace. Because of you, she’ll have lost both her husband and her son to the same tragedy.”
“……”
“So? You’re still not going to leave? Do you want your mother to shed blood tears in the afterlife?”
Carlisle didn’t answer again — not because he had nothing to say, but because there was no time to.
Thud! Crash!
A loud noise erupted outside the room.
The door burst open — and a man stepped in.
“Huh?”
Carlisle blinked, recognizing him instantly.
“…Brother-in-law.”
Hestia bit her lip hard.
It was Sylas von Sigmund, younger brother of Grand Duke Guntram — Carlisle’s uncle.
“Ah, I see I was a little late, sister-in-law,” Sylas said with a smile.
“Since we’re both here for the same reason, why don’t we work together?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We came for the same purpose, didn’t we?”
Sylas stepped aside.
Behind him, the knights assigned to guard Carlisle were sprawled unconscious across the floor — clear evidence of a swift, silent attack that had taken them all out in an instant.
