SEM 40

#040

“Are you saying Duke Cryber sent this to me at this hour?”

Rosella stood with her arms crossed, tilting her head as she looked at the massive gift box, too large to be shielded from the pouring rain.

For something called a gift, the wrapping was terrible. Not only was it crumpled in places, but there wasn’t even a single ribbon attached.

“This is far too lacking to be called a surprise gift.”

Rosella’s eyebrows twitched in displeasure. One corner of her mouth subtly twitched—it was clear she was just a breath away from exploding in irritation.

“It looks like a painting. Shall I unwrap it, Your Majesty the Empress?”

Claire had just been about to take a break after enduring Rosella’s irritation all day. Now, with the endless rain in the background, the thought of handling her mistress’s temper again gave her a headache.

‘They could’ve sent it tomorrow instead.’

Claire bit her lower lip and tried to please Rosella with a gentle tone.

“Claire, you open it.”

“You won’t do it yourself?”

Rosella took a step back, clearly repulsed by the thought of touching the wrapping paper. In the end, the lady-in-waiting Claire had no choice but to step forward.

She dug her long nails into the tightly wrapped covering, ripping it open. Fortunately, the paper covering the painting tore off in one big piece.

“Move aside!”

Rosella, who had been watching from behind Claire, suddenly stepped forward.

“Ah!”

Claire, pushed aside by Rosella, looked confused and rubbed her scratched shoulder.

“…My goodness.”

Rosella carefully pulled at the torn wrapping paper.

Each time she revealed more, a gasp of admiration slipped from her lips. Even Claire, who had stepped back in fear of Rosella’s fury, widened her eyes and stared blankly at the painting.

“Oh my! Grady!”

Once the painting was fully revealed, Rosella clutched her cheeks with both hands and cried out Grady’s name, though he wasn’t present.

Her green eyes, barely visible beneath the silk gown she had pulled tight around her, softened immensely. The irritation she’d felt at being disturbed just before bed melted away completely.

Rosella’s emerald eyes became as serene as a midsummer forest.

“Where on earth did our Duke find this?”

The relaxed and composed elegance in her gait was truly befitting of an empress.

“…Could it be Red Winter?”

Claire’s eyes darted around as they widened like lanterns. She couldn’t step away from the painting.

“It certainly seems like it, doesn’t it?”

Rosella sank deeply into the sofa, finally stepping away from the painting. Only then did the whole image come into view.

The snowy white forest depicted was neither a bright day nor a dark night. Between the dense birch trees, red specks floated—like flower petals or blood drops.

Some claimed it was the moment the sun rose, others believed it was blood splattered on the trees after a battle.

Even renowned critics split into factions, insisting their interpretation was correct, so the painting had no definitive meaning.

They could have simply asked the artist—but as luck would have it, the identity of the artist who painted Red Winter had never been revealed. That only deepened the mystery surrounding it.

“Where on earth did he find it?”

Claire muttered absentmindedly, hand covering her mouth. Her finger pointing at the painting trembled, and her voice dropped low.

“What does it matter? I’m the owner now.”

Rosella beamed, unable to take her eyes off the painting.

She didn’t even need to look—she already knew. The moment word spread that Red Winter was in her possession, the nobles would wear down the palace steps trying to see it.

And noble interest always translated to wealth.

Not a bad turn of events—especially when she needed to pay off the debt of a marquis who had long neglected his duties for gambling. For a mother who relied on her daughter’s status to indulge in luxury and pleasure, this painting was the first thing to make her smile in a while.

But more than that, what thrilled Rosella most was that Grady had sent this painting to her, not Eliana.

‘Of course he did.’

Rosella nodded to herself and tapped the armrest with her hand. A smile naturally formed on her lips.

* * *

Rosella had heard from the butler that Grady had raided the viscount’s warehouse.

Eliana, who knew her father better than anyone, anxiously waited for Grady. But the person who appeared at her door wasn’t who she expected.

“Rodin? Why are you here?”

A raindrop, unable to bear the weight any longer, fell from a leaf. It hit a puddle, sending wide ripples across the surface.

“I thought you’d need him more than the Marquis’s household did.”

Grady sighed, handing his rain-soaked cloak to the butler. His hair was a tangled mess, his cravat was missing, and droplets of water endlessly dripped from his soaked pants.

“What are you talking about?”

Surprised by Rodin’s sudden arrival, Eliana turned her head from where she stood near the entrance. She rubbed her furrowed brow and licked her lips—clearly struggling to grasp the situation.

“Isn’t every lady’s dream to have a knight who blindly swears to love her?”

Grady’s eyes, as dark as midnight, turned to Eliana. His half-lidded gaze was flat and dull, as if he found the situation utterly tedious.

“……”

“Ah, perhaps you don’t like him because he’s not even a properly knighted man? Still, you two seem to have been together long enough to call your first marriage ancient history.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Eliana glanced briefly at Rodin, who stood like a statue. Thankfully, both of his arms were intact.

‘Did his wounds heal?’

The memory of his flesh torn by a whip, and the warmth of blood splashing on her cheek, was still vivid. Eliana unconsciously touched her cheek and sighed softly.

“I don’t need a knight.”

“Hmph.”

Grady let out a snort at her delayed response. He removed his gloves and coat with smooth movements, handing them to the butler.

So much water had dripped from his coat that it pooled at his feet.

‘Where on earth had he been?’

Grady had run out in a panic, saying he felt unwell. Eliana never imagined he would return past midnight with Rodin in tow.

“What now? My Eliana says she doesn’t need you.”

Grady, now in lighter attire, turned smoothly and wrapped an arm around Eliana’s waist. The ice-cold touch startled her, making her shiver.

Her long hair, which veiled her eyes, swayed. She struggled to contain her emotions, her heaving chest pressed flat, a metallic gasp slipping through her lips.

“…Rodin?”

Eliana broke free from Grady’s arms and rushed forward.

Grady unconsciously clenched his fists at the sudden loss of her warmth.

Thud.

Rodin collapsed forward the moment Eliana touched him. Trying to catch him, Eliana lost her balance and fell to the floor.

“Rodin!”

Eliana’s shrill scream echoed throughout the duke’s mansion.

As Grady turned silently and climbed the stairs to the second floor, chaos ensued.

The butler hurriedly summoned help. Maids prepared the guest room, and a few servants ran out to fetch a doctor.

But Eliana didn’t let go of Rodin, cradling him in her arms.

“Urgh!”

One maid who was dabbing away pus with gauze eventually couldn’t bear it and ran out of the room.

The physician wiped sweat from his forehead and irritably grabbed a fresh gauze pad. Flickering firelight cast dark shadows that circled like death itself.

“What exactly is this man?”

The family’s physician, called urgently, looked down at Rodin with disbelief.

There wasn’t a single uninjured part of his body. Old wounds had become infected, and new ones layered over them. The neglected skin festered and burst, creating yet more injuries.

His body, ravaged with overlapping wounds, looked gruesome. Pus had glued cloth to flesh, and it took a long time to peel it away.

The physician clicked his tongue at the exposed wounds. Eliana stared down at Rodin’s injuries in silence.

“Does that matter?”

Even after treatment had begun, Eliana stood behind the physician, never once looking away. Not even the stench, which made even the doctor grimace, caused her to flinch.

Her blunt tone made the physician’s eyebrows twitch. He glanced briefly at the proud duchess who didn’t even spare him a look, then applied a thick layer of ointment to Rodin’s back.

“Urgh.”

Rodin, who had been lying like the dead, twitched and let out a faint groan.

The doctor quickly resumed treatment. He smeared ointment over the wounds with visible irritation, as if blaming the patient for letting things get this bad.

“He won’t be able to stand for a while.”

The doctor stood up after finishing. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a rough gesture.

“……”

“The whip marks look like they came from leather. Surely… this wasn’t some dangerous play?”

Eliana clamped her mouth shut at the physician’s words.

The rumors about the new duchess of the grand duke’s house had yet to die down. So she couldn’t even refute the accusation.