fsrbd ch 02

Chapter 2 

Agnès’s words made the three people in front of her stare in disbelief—then burst out laughing all at once.

Their laughter spread through the room, filled with mockery and scorn.
It was as if what Agnès had just said was so stupid that they couldn’t help themselves.

Lady Everchen, the viscountess, laughed so hard that she had to wipe her eyes. Then she sneered and poked Agnès’s shoulder with her finger.

“And just how do you plan to take your son back? What kind of ridiculous fantasy is that? You got divorced—your ex-husband would never hand the child over to you!”

Agnès stumbled back at the jabs, but she didn’t close her mouth.

“Even if he doesn’t hand him over, I have to bring him back. The child is sick, and that man doesn’t care.”

Another round of cruel laughter echoed.

“Then he should stay there all the more! Do you think we want to pay for a useless sick child’s treatment? At least Count Overhan won’t let him die—he’s still his blood.”

“He might not let him die, but Noah…!”

Smack!

Agnès’s head whipped to the side. The blow was so strong that her cheek instantly flushed red.

Harbor, watching from behind, clicked his tongue and scolded his mother.

“Mother, don’t hit her face. It’s the only thing she has left if she ever wants to remarry.”

“Do you think finding a husband for a divorced woman is easy? Her face will heal soon enough.”

Agnès covered her ringing ear and slowly lifted her head.
Her pale face showed no trace of humiliation from being slapped.

“I have to bring Noah back. Please. He’s very sick. If he stays there, he’ll only get worse.”

“In the first place—!”

Lady Everchen’s voice suddenly rose in anger. She hated how Agnès still refused to bow down.

“If you hadn’t defied Count Overhan trying to protect that boy, you wouldn’t have been kicked out! I heard he even gave you several chances!”

“Because his way was wrong! He’s not fit to raise a child!”

“You really are hopeless.”

The viscountess tapped Agnès’s forehead with her finger.

“The unfit one here is you. Just because you gave birth to him doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. That child is Overhan’s property! If you can’t do anything, then stay quiet. Maybe if you remarry into a good family, you can send him a gift or two. I’m sure Count Overhan would accept that much—he’s a gentleman, after all.”

Lady Everchen clicked her tongue and called for a maid.

“Bring a cloth to cover her face. I barely hit her and she looks like she’ll faint. No wonder her child’s sick—she’s weak herself.”

Agnès didn’t even flinch as the maid approached to drape something over her.
She was lost in thought.

If you can’t do anything, then stay quiet.

Those words pierced Agnès deeply.
Not because they hurt her, but because they made her realize something.

She remembered what Duke Basteron, Dylan, had told her that night in the dark garden:

“If this matter leaks, I’ll have to harm you for the sake of the Empire’s honor. I don’t want to do that to my savior.”

Savior. He had called her that.

Agnès had never done good deeds expecting anything in return. She believed that helping others selflessly was the right thing to do.

But now wasn’t the time to cling to such ideals.
Her son Noah was in pain.
If staying silent meant losing him, then her principles meant nothing.

The Everchens and Harbor thought Agnès had finally given up.
They couldn’t see the golden light burning quietly beneath her lowered lashes.

***

The Everchen estate lay in the west of the Empire, while the Basteron estate was in the north.
There had never been any dealings between them; they were too far apart.
So with all nobles now gathered in the capital for the social season, this was her one and only chance.

Agnès asked her maid, Lizzy, to secretly send a letter to the Basteron townhouse.

“Make sure no one finds out. You know what I mean?”

“Of course, my lady. No one treats us as kindly as you do. Leave it to me.”

Before her marriage, Agnès had always been kind to the Everchen servants—and now that kindness came back to help her.
The maids knew she was planning something, but they turned a blind eye and deaf ear.

Agnès had even prepared herself to visit in person if no reply came.
But to her surprise, Lizzy returned that very day with a response in hand.

“I was about to leave after delivering it, but they told me to wait—and then they brought back this letter. Do you have some connection to the Basteron Duke, my lady?”

Lizzy looked puzzled.
Agnès couldn’t explain.

What had happened that night in the garden wasn’t something either she or Dylan could ever speak about.

After sending Lizzy away, Agnès opened the envelope.
Inside, in a neat, refined handwriting, was a short message:

“Please come in person tonight at 8.
—Dylan Harkvitz.”

Seeing his name written out reminded her that he truly was of royal blood.

Dylan Harkvitz had been brilliant since childhood—gifted in both scholarship and swordsmanship.
He had an older sister, six years his senior, but everyone had once believed he would become the Crown Prince.

Then came “the accident.”
After that, Dylan vanished from society, and the position of Crown Prince naturally fell to his sister, Kali.

Once she ascended the throne, Kali granted her brother the northern territory of Basteron and the title of Duke.
Since then, Dylan Harkvitz had rarely, if ever, returned to the capital.

People whispered that it had to do with that “accident.”

The rumor was known by all—
that Dylan had been cursed by a dark sorcerer, and ever since, he could no longer survive on ordinary food…
that he had become a creature who could only live by drinking human blood.

They said anyone whose blood he tasted would die a shriveled corpse.

It was absurd gossip—yet Dylan’s disappearance from society and his sister’s rise to power made people believe it might be true.

And Agnès, not long ago, had seen the truth for herself in that shadowed garden.

Dylan really did drink blood.

But he was not a monster who killed people.
Agnès herself was proof—she had given him her arm, and she was still alive.

Clutching the letter to her chest, she took a deep breath.
What she was about to do was madness.

But if it meant saving Noah from the agony he was suffering in the Overhan household,
then she would gladly sell her soul to a devil.

Agnès had made up her mind.

***

The Basteron townhouse, renovated from an old mansion, had a strange, haunting beauty.
The structure was old-fashioned, but the walls and furnishings carried the elegance of modern design.
There wasn’t much decoration, yet every single piece reflected the owner’s refined taste.

Agnès followed the young butler through the halls, holding her head high despite her racing heart.

“Please wait in the drawing room. His Grace will be with you shortly. These attendants will serve you in the meantime.”

His words sounded distant, drowned out by her own nerves.
Fortunately, years of noble training kept her posture graceful.

Agnès sat down elegantly and adjusted the veil over her face.

Her pride had long since been shattered, but she still couldn’t bear to show her bruised face.
And it wouldn’t help her case to appear pitiful before the man she’d come to make a deal with.

Dylan entered before her tea had even cooled.
Considering the difference in their ranks, his prompt appearance was astonishing.

Agnès immediately rose and curtsied deeply.

“Your Grace, the Duke of Basteron—thank you sincerely for agreeing to meet me.”

“Since I owe the young lady a debt, it’s only right that I see you once.”

His voice was calm and smooth as he courteously guided her to sit.
Only after she was seated did he take his own chair.

For a while, the two simply looked at each other.

It was hard to believe that this was the same man she had seen writhing in agony beneath the moonlight.
His jet-black hair was neatly combed back, his silver-embroidered suit fit his long frame perfectly,
and every movement he made carried the poise of a royal.

His blue eyes, calm and unreadable, showed none of the tension she felt.

When he drank my blood, his eyes were red… she thought faintly.