Chapter 10
“Phew.”
‘Wow, what is this, a tree? Why’s it so rough?’
The floral scent that wafted into my nose was pleasant, but the huge flowers in my arms and the clattering lantern were cumbersome beyond belief.
I secretly wished the duke walking beside me would carry them for me, but he didn’t seem to have the slightest intention of doing so.
Just as I was about to pout and call him heartless, the reason became clear.
Crackle! Ssshh!
Drawing his sword, his long silver hair whipping through the air, he began to dismantle the five layers of wards blocking our way.
The ritual before the black, metallic door — darker than a black hole — looked like some kind of artistic performance, as if he were extinguishing the stars in the night sky one by one.
I gaped in awe at the duke’s sword dance, though the onlookers appeared indifferent.
Perhaps they found it tedious — a ceremony they’d seen year after year.
But I knew that swordsmanship was real — and dangerous.
The duke, in his days as a commoner, had a hidden past as a legendary mercenary.
It was something that only came to light after his death, so no one knew it now. But once, even the emperor had invited him to the empire without so much as a background check, such were the incredible rumors surrounding his skill.
I suddenly felt a pang of regret.
‘Sigh… He shouldn’t have become a duke. He’s too talented to be rotting away here…’
As I stood there, blankly watching the duke’s sword dance, the lantern tilted forward and nearly pulled me down with its weight.
“Ah!”
Expecting to fall disgracefully, I squeezed my eyes shut — but then my body suddenly lifted.
The duke had caught me.
He tore the coarse chrysanthemums and lantern from my grasp without hesitation and murmured,
“You did bring the ring, didn’t you?”
I was wearing a high-necked white dress. The ring, turned into a pendant, was hidden beneath my clothes — he clearly wanted to be sure.
I raised my hand to my chest as if to show him.
But then—
‘…It’s gone.’
No matter how I brushed over my clothes, the ring wasn’t there.
Sensing my alarm, his expression hardened.
“Don’t tell me you left it behind.”
I quickly hid my face and thought fast.
I had checked the ring inside the carriage, just in case.
But it wasn’t there now.
‘Of course — all that time I spent rearranging the flowers…!’
The thief must be that young attendant standing beside Marquis Pascal in the distance.
The only chance to steal it was when they handed me the chrysanthemums and lantern.
Anger flared, but I forced myself to stay calm.
It didn’t really matter in the end.
Whether I lived or didn’t make it back…
If the duke later found the ring with Marquis Pascal, he would have undeniable proof of betrayal.
I cast a cold glance toward them, then looked back up at the duke with the meekest face I could manage.
“Uh… i-it’s here, I think. Must’ve gotten caught inside somewhere.”
One of his eyebrows lifted slightly — he didn’t look convinced — but he said nothing more.
He couldn’t exactly reach into my clothes to check, after all.
Setting me down, he said,
“If you’re afraid of the dark, stay close to the lantern.”
And with that, he turned toward the black door.
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
The door, which had no handle and looked impossible to open, slowly began to move under his strength.
Gasps rose from the crowd as the inside came into view.
Or rather — it didn’t.
The space beyond was pitch-dark, like a cave without a single glimmer of light.
It felt as though stepping inside would trap you in eternity, never to return.
My fingertips began to tremble.
No matter how many times one has faced death, fear is still fear.
So I scolded myself.
‘Stop shaking. He’s saved your life twice already. Did you think repaying that kindness would be easy?’
I took a step toward the duke standing before the door and whispered like a child,
“…Duke!”
“…?”
“When this is all over, let’s go on a picnic! Promise!”
Let’s go to the countryside — to find your wife. All right?
I hadn’t said it to get an answer. I walked past him immediately, stepping into the ever-fading light.
Standing alone as the glow dimmed, I waved back toward him.
‘Just in case… goodbye, Duke.’
Rumble.
The black door closed.
Secretary Logan stood staring at it, his face clouded with unease.
“If the young lady dies, my lord, the blame will rest entirely on you.”
“…So you’ve heard about the ring.”
The duke sighed, his words trailing off. “It was supposed to be a secret.”
“Even so, I have no intention of withdrawing my resignation. Once the ritual is over, I’ll be taking the child with me.”
“…”
Even his attempt at a veiled threat — mentioning the child — drew no reaction from the duke.
‘Tch. So that’s how it is — do as you please, huh? How did my sister ever marry such a cold-blooded man?’
Logan’s eyes were so cold they seemed to frost over as he glared at the duke.
Then, footsteps approached — and both men turned.
It was their mutual adversary, Marquis Pascal.
“Your Grace, splendid as always. It never ceases to impress — the way you manipulate the sacred wards crafted by the first Duke, who was once a great archmage.”
“…”
The duke kept his lips tightly sealed.
The marquis’s attendants stepped forward to fill the silence.
“I too was deeply moved. Those wards cannot be undone by anyone outside the Everhardt bloodline. A truly rare sight.”
“It reminded me of the old days — when Your Grace appeared seven years ago, had you not, the late Duke would still be interred outside the tomb.”
“Indeed. Wasn’t that the greatest crisis the duchy had faced? That sudden recall to the imperial capital — unthinkable!”
“Ha! It’s fortunate the Elder Council held out for four long years. Thinking back on it now, truly remarkable…”
The duke finally spoke.
“So, what? You expect me to bow my head and thank you?”
“Ahem. That’s not what we meant, Your Grace…”
“Even if you saved the world itself, my decision to dissolve the council stands. So for the next three minutes — shut your mouths.”
“…”
Those words sent murmurs rippling among the collateral branches of the family.
Even with all the infighting, the dissolution of the council — the pillar that had upheld the Everhardt line for a thousand years — was an enormous matter.
As the whispers spread, Marquis Pascal calmly began to speak.
“Your Grace, when the late Duke was alive, I once heard about the twenty-second head of house.”
The murmurs ceased instantly, all eyes turning toward him.
“They said there was a prophecy from the first Duke — that the twenty-second head would be as powerful as the five greatest patriarchs in history.”
“And?”
“I look forward to it. Once the young lady completes the ritual, the council will be gone — but what good are decrepit old men anyway? I’m simply eager to see what comes next.”
Murmurs of protest rose — some took offense at being dismissed as useless elders.
The duke too found the marquis’s tone confusing — half deferential, half mocking.
But soon, he stopped thinking altogether.
The punishment these men deserved wasn’t merely the dissolution of a council.
His icy blue eyes gleamed with long-suppressed hostility as he replied coldly,
“The future, is it? Then I truly hope you look forward to it — to the price you’ll pay for what you’ve done.”
Unexpectedly, Marquis Pascal smiled as if he’d been waiting for that.
“Of course. We’ve always been loyal vassals of House Everhardt, after all.”
The duke turned his gaze toward him — and then froze, his eyes locking on something in the marquis’s hand.
Pascal held it up with mock courtesy.
“This, for example — a token of loyalty. One shouldn’t let a ducal heirloom roll around on the ground, after all.”
“…!”
It was the signet ring of House Everhardt — the Duke’s own.
“H-how did you—?! You bastard, Marquis Pascal!”
The one who shouted and lunged was Secretary Logan, his red hair whipping through the air.
But as if expecting this, the marquis’s knights moved instantly, blocking his path.
“Show some decorum, Secretary. Or wait — were you the one who gave it to me?”
“Let go of me! If things stay like this, the young lady—!”
“Calm yourself. The young lady is perfectly fine. Surely Baron Velken’s child wouldn’t be a fake, would she? Ha ha.”
“…!”
The marquis laughed as if he found it all terribly amusing.
Logan’s face twisted in anguish — not only from fury and contempt for Pascal, but also from the voice whispering in the depths of his own mind.
‘Three minutes. If she just stopped breathing for a moment, she could still be saved. If I can just hold on a little longer…’
He could take Marquis Pascal down.
Then, perhaps, he could finally uncover the truth about his sister.
“Damn it… just how low will you sink, Logan Ludvig?”
Logan slapped both his cheeks hard and shouted,
“Your Grace! I’m sorry, but we have to open that door!”
He shoved past the knights and ran toward the black door—
But someone was already there ahead of him.
A man, sword drawn, mid-swing.
“…Your Grace?”
It made no sense.
The cold-blooded man who’d planned to use the girl—
Why was he the one trying to break through the door first?
