CHAPTER 62……………………………………
Yuan’s furious gaze fell on Seret’s soiled clothes. Clenching his fists, he gave Hannah an order.
“She needs to be changed.”
“Y-yes, right away.”
Hannah answered with a sniffle.
Yuan gently stroked Seret’s hair once, then left her in Hannah’s care and stepped out of the bedroom.
“Your Grace, the Duke.”
Just then, the butler, coming up the stairs, saw Yuan emerging from the room and hurried over. Yuan handed him the blood-stained club and said in an icy voice:
“Contact the police. The Duchess has been attacked.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The butler flinched as he accepted the weapon. The Duke’s voice—and the blood on that club—were enough to make him tense up. Realizing the gravity of the situation, the butler hurried back down the stairs.
Yuan turned back toward Seret’s room with a fearful expression. He was afraid to open that door again; afraid that, as in his nightmares, he would find her lying there, cold and lifeless.
He ran a hand over his face and forced himself to think—this wasn’t a dream. Seret would be all right. Calming himself with effort, Yuan grasped the door handle.
When he entered, Hannah was struggling to change Seret’s clothes, still sniffling and trembling.
Unable to bear watching, Yuan stepped forward to help—but froze. Though Seret was his wife, they weren’t yet intimate enough for him to see her that way.
Over Hannah’s shoulder, a glimpse of Seret’s pale skin made Yuan clear his throat awkwardly and step back. A moment later, Hannah spoke.
“It’s done, Your Grace.”
At her words, Yuan turned again to look at Seret.
Her pale, fragile face tore at his heart. Who would dare hurt her… His quiet fury grew when his eyes caught the filthy bedsheets.
He couldn’t leave her there. Moving carefully, Yuan lifted Seret into his arms and carried her out.
He glanced down at her small face resting against his chest, his gaze full of sorrow.
A faint scratch marked her cheekbone—likely from when she had fallen. The red mark stood out vividly against her white skin, making Yuan’s heart ache.
There hadn’t been much blood on the club. So she must have only fainted. And yet, why did his chest feel so tight with unease?
Swallowing his anxiety, Yuan brought her to his own chamber. He laid her on the bed and carefully covered her with a blanket.
Sitting on the edge, he stroked her hair, took her hand, and pressed a kiss to it. He would have to endure this dreadful time alone.
Not long after, Dr. Cain arrived. Yuan’s eyes were restless as the physician entered the room.
“Your Grace… I heard the Duchess has been injured.”
Cain greeted him, but Yuan had no time for courtesies.
“Examine her. Quickly.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Looking somewhat tense, Cain approached Seret.
“She was attacked by an assailant. There’s a head injury,” Yuan explained.
Cain’s eyes flickered in surprise. Letting out a quiet breath, he began his examination.
When it was over, Yuan immediately asked:
“How is she?”
“The wound isn’t deep. It doesn’t need stitching. We’ll know more once she wakes, but her heartbeat and pupil reactions are normal.”
“That’s a relief.”
Yuan exhaled deeply, the tension easing slightly from his face as he looked at Seret sleeping peacefully.
“I’ll treat the wound and stay in the mansion until she wakes.”
“Please do.”
Yuan nodded.
Just then, a servant hesitantly entered. When Yuan looked his way, the man spoke.
“Your Grace, the police have arrived. They’re waiting in the drawing room.”
Yuan nodded and instructed Hannah to accompany him—her testimony would be needed.
Each step down the stairs was heavy with anger. With every footfall, he felt his fury eating at him.
Yuan entered the drawing room, his face hard as stone. Because it involved the Duchess’s assault, even the Chief of the Capital Police had come in person.
After brief greetings, Yuan gestured toward Hannah.
“This maid was with my wife.”
The policemen’s eyes all turned on Hannah. Frightened, she swallowed hard and clasped her trembling hands.
Be brave, for the Madam’s sake, she told herself—but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Begin the investigation,” Yuan said as he sat down, his expression clearly saying he intended to watch every move.
The officers stiffened under his gaze. Taking on a Duke’s wife’s assault case was already daunting—but Duke Frextuster’s demeanor made it even worse.
“Please describe what happened,” one officer said to Hannah.
“Ah, well… yes.”
Hannah slowly began to explain the events.
The officers listened grimly. Then the investigator tilted his head.
“So you went to the Verun district because of the maid Sophia’s case?”
“Yes,” Hannah replied, glancing nervously at Yuan. She avoided mentioning anything related to Lydia—Madam Seret had ordered her to tell no one—so she felt guilty omitting it.
“The Duchess must have been very fond of this maid, to go there herself.”
“Ah, yes. Sophia had little siblings. My lady—uh, the Madam—was concerned for them.”
Hannah spoke vaguely, aware of Yuan’s eyes on her.
“Do you believe the maid’s death and the Duchess’s assault are connected?” Yuan asked sharply.
“Just now, a letter arrived at Sophia’s home. It seems to be a suicide note—she wrote that she was exhausted caring for her siblings after her father’s death. Her friends and siblings confirmed the handwriting. It will likely be closed as a suicide.”
In other words, they believed the two cases unrelated.
“That’s not—it’s not quite…” Hannah’s lips moved as if she wanted to object, but in the end, she stayed silent.
Yuan looked at her, puzzled, but turned back when the officer continued:
“We think this may have been a robbery. Verun is a dangerous area; for a noble lady to go there alone, she’d naturally be an easy target.”
“You’re saying it was just theft?”
“Verun sees incidents like this every day. Even now, someone there is being beaten or robbed, I’d wager.”
To the police, Verun was a nest of criminals; if the victim hadn’t been a Duchess, they wouldn’t have cared at all.
“Listening to you, it almost sounds as though what happened to my wife is no big deal.”
Yuan’s tone was calm, but his face was cold.
“Well, it was Verun,” the officer said, nodding matter-of-factly—failing to see Yuan’s dark expression.
“So you mean it’s her own fault for going there?”
“If she hadn’t gone, it wouldn’t have happened,” the officer replied bluntly.
The Police Chief jabbed him in the knee, mortified.
“Very well. Since the police seem disinclined to pursue this seriously, I’ll request special investigative authority from His Majesty,” Yuan said, rising slowly.
That privilege allowed nobles, with the emperor’s approval, to override police and even judicial powers—a nearly absolute authority often abused, and rarely granted.
But for Duke Frextuster, approval would come within the hour.
“N-no! That’s not what we meant! We’ll investigate thoroughly!” the Police Chief blurted, alarmed.
Requesting special authority implied the police’s incompetence—a humiliation that would stain their reputation permanently.
Yuan looked down at them, his voice low and sharp.
“Find the culprit. Bring them before me on their knees.”
His steely gaze made the officers avert their eyes.
“I trust it won’t take long. You are… capable men, after all.”
Leaving that challenge hanging in the air, Yuan strode out.
Outside the drawing room, he exhaled deeply.
Whoever hurt my wife… I’ll never forgive them.
Be it man or woman, noble or commoner—even God Himself would pay the price.
Yuan’s gray eyes gleamed with a savage light.
Anita’s body trembled. Waiting alone in the empty room for Lydia, she was overwhelmed with fear.
What if the Duchess is dead? What if someone saw me?
It felt as if the police might burst in at any moment to drag her away.
Then the door opened—Lydia entered, returning from tea with the Emperor, looking puzzled at Anita’s frightened face.
“Anita, the vial?”
“I retrieved it.”
Anita turned to answer her.
“If you’d done it properly the first time, you wouldn’t have needed a second trip,” Lydia sighed, sounding annoyed as she slumped onto the couch.
“Y-Your Highness, Princess…” Anita stammered, pale.
Lydia lazily flipped through a magazine, then lifted her gaze. At her slight nod to continue, Anita swallowed hard.
“While retrieving the vial, I ran into Duchess Frextuster.”
“What?”
Lydia snapped the magazine shut and straightened up. Everyone knew Anita was her maid—of course Seret would recognize her.
“And? What happened next?”
Impatiently, Lydia urged her to go on. Anita nervously recounted the events.
After listening, Lydia sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead, looking irritated.
“Then Seret didn’t see your face?”
“No. I struck from behind.”
Anita nodded.
“Anita,” Lydia said quietly as she stood.
Anita flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, expecting a slap—but it didn’t come.
Instead, Lydia gripped her shoulders tightly. Feeling her hands, Anita cautiously opened her eyes.
Lydia’s fierce gaze burned into her. Rage flashed in those eyes, and Anita shrank back.
Still gripping her shoulders, Lydia spoke in a low, cold voice:
“Seret is precious to me.
