APR Ch# 7

What are you doing!”

Thud.

Before she could even reach out to stop it, the object fell to the floor. The gatekeeper’s eyes dropped down and slowly lifted. What Roxana had cut off with a dagger was her long, beautiful red hair.

“This… what on earth…”

In this country, a woman’s hair was of utmost value. Regardless of class, it was an unspoken rule to keep it waist-length. Even nuns only cut their hair during rituals—not like this, right in the open. Her jagged, shoulder-length hair was a shocking sight.

“W-what in the w-world…”

As the gatekeeper stammered in disbelief, Roxana once again politely pleaded.

“It’s urgent. Please open the gate. I beg you.”

Her eyes were sincere—no trace of deceit. Though she looked delicate and frail, her gaze held undeniable determination. The gatekeeper, still dazed, finally gave in.

“…Alright. Wait here. I’ll send someone into the inner castle.”

He returned shortly, this time accompanied by a mounted knight.

Roxana recognized him immediately. It was Greg, the right-hand man of Curtis, the man who had driven her father, Marquis Dalton, to ruin. With a shaved head like a monk and a massive build like a boulder, he was an unforgettable figure. He had accompanied Curtis when she was transferred to the convent.

“What are you doing here?”

Greg, who also recognized her, frowned. Roxana answered calmly, having anticipated his reaction.

“It’s urgent.”

His eyes, first filled with confusion and then anger, finally landed on her crudely chopped hair. Taking a moment to suppress his emotions, Greg dismounted.

“Get on behind me. The inner castle is a bit of a distance.”

Roxana nodded and climbed up with his help. Greg seated himself behind her. With a flick of the reins, the horse galloped down the stone-paved road. As they passed the civilian quarter, the moat and drawbridge came into view. Though it was dark, towering spires loomed beyond the castle walls. Roxana was momentarily distracted by the sight, and Greg scoffed.

“Amazed? Most of this was destroyed a decade ago.”

“I see…”

“The Count regained favor with His Majesty and was reinstated. He restored the castle himself. It’s about 70% back to its former glory.”

Perhaps realizing he was saying too much, Greg fell silent. After they passed through the inner gate, someone came out to greet her. An elderly man, neatly dressed with a rigid posture. He approached as soon as she dismounted.

“Welcome. You’ve come a long way.”

“Ah… Thank you for receiving me. May I ask who you are?”

“I am Robert Carl, the steward of this castle.”

Robert introduced himself gently, then glanced at her hair.

“I heard about the gatekeeper’s rudeness. My apologies. These are sensitive times.”

“There’s no need for formality.”

Greg, cutting in coldly, looked down at Roxana. She read the warning in his eyes—if she said anything foolish, she wouldn’t be spared.

“If she tries anything strange, report to me immediately.”

“No need to say that. Ha-ha.”

Roxana swallowed a bitter laugh. This level of coldness was expected. It was the warm reception from the steward, Robert, that was surprising.

“I heard you’ve come on urgent business. Let’s go inside.”

Dismissing Greg, Robert led Roxana through the castle. Past the grand entrance hall typical of fortresses, the interior was modest but refined. Soft couches with buffalo leather, a rosewood tea table, an ivory-carved fireplace, and a red tapestry above it. Unlike the ostentatious display of luxury in Marquis Dalton’s residence, this place had a quiet elegance.

Roxana briefly explained the circumstances that brought her here. Listening earnestly, Robert nodded.

“A fever outbreak, you say? That’s serious. The Count left two weeks ago for the southern estate due to flooding.”

“Time is of the essence. Please, somehow…”

Her mouth dried at the unexpected news.

“It’s late today, but at dawn, we’ll send a physician and medical supplies. The Count gave instructions not to spare any support for Angela Convent.”

“Oh! Thank you. Thank you so much…”

Relieved by the clear promise, Roxana bowed repeatedly. Her body swayed as all tension drained away. Robert, noticing her trembling hands, gently responded.

“No need to thank me. I’m simply carrying out the Count’s orders.”

“Ah.”

So the occasional delivery of medicine and supplies to the convent came from this castle. Though the convent was under this estate’s jurisdiction, she hadn’t realized the Count had such a deep connection to Angela. As Roxana pondered the thought, Robert made a suggestion.

“Would you like to meet the Count before you leave? Around midday tomorrow…”

“No.”

Startled, Roxana shook her head.

“I know it’s impolite, but I want to return to the convent as soon as possible. I’ll depart tomorrow.”

“I understand.”

Their conversation continued smoothly. The physician was summoned, the symptoms explained, and the necessary medicine was listed.

When the grandfather clock struck midnight, Robert stood, naturally bringing the conversation to a close.

“It’s already midnight. I’ll have a maid escort you to your room.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Just as Roxana stood up to follow, it happened.

Crash!

“Kyaaah!”

A sharp object shattered on the floor, followed by a woman’s scream.

The drawing room froze. Before anyone could react, hurried footsteps approached and someone burst in.

“Steward! Just now—!”

A maid, pale with fright, stood at the door. Something had definitely happened. Robert pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Of all days, why today… Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone leave.”

“What’s going on?”

Roxana asked carefully, sensing the severity. Robert turned slightly and replied firmly.

“Nothing at all.”

“…”

“Please escort the Sister to her room.”

He gestured to the maid, then hurried out. Suddenly, the previously quiet castle echoed with many footsteps. Clearly, something had occurred—but she couldn’t interfere. If her true identity were exposed, she’d be as helpless as a candle in the wind. Roxana forced herself to ignore it.

“Please rest. I’ll come wake you when it’s time to leave.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The room she was shown to was cozy and warm. The bed was soft enough to soothe the earlier anxiety.

As soon as the door shut, Roxana took off her heavy robe and hung it on the coat rack. After days of traveling rough, her body was exhausted. Just as she was about to lie down—

Someone knocked.

“Help me! Please open the door!”

A desperate voice, near tears. Startled, Roxana opened the door, and a young girl flung herself inside. Before she could scream, Roxana was shoved back and hit the floor. Pain shot through her body. When she opened her eyes, she felt a weight pressing on her chest—along with tangled black hair like seaweed.

“…A person?”

A girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen. She looked like a wild animal, with messy hair and wounded feet—perhaps from stepping on glass. Her face seemed oddly familiar.

Panicked, Roxana tried to push her away, but the girl clung even harder.

“W-who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m…”

Just as Roxana parted her lips, a shout came from outside the open door.

“She went that way!”

“Hide me. They’re trying to kill me!”

The girl sprang up, carefully shut the door, and fumbled around the wall—banging her head against the wardrobe. Even with only moonlight, it was enough to see. Could she not see?

Roxana, watching curiously, stepped closer. The girl’s forehead was damp with sweat, and her lips were deathly pale. She was terrified. She suddenly grabbed Roxana’s collar.

“They’re going to hang me. I don’t want to die!”

“Something made a noise in that room!”

Footsteps thundered closer. No time. Roxana made a quick decision.

“Then hide in here.”

She couldn’t turn away from someone so clearly frightened. As soon as she opened the wardrobe, the girl slipped inside. At that moment, the maids knocked.

“Sister? May we come in?”

“What’s going on?”

Closing the wardrobe silently, Roxana opened the door. The maid peeked inside.