Chapter 15
15
Tender Hunt
Having sent his party ahead first, Matthias reined in his horse in the middle of the wide path winding through the forest. He took off his hat, and his disheveled hair fell across his forehead. The woods, which had been swept by a flurry of bloody chaos, felt even quieter than usual.
Today’s hunt had been quite enjoyable. Matthias had struck every target he aimed for, and those moments were thrilling, just as always. But even so, this lingering sense of incompleteness was surely because of that one bird that had desperately fled about.
Matthias, who had been gazing toward the cottage, slowly turned his horse’s head. The young girl who lived in his hunting grounds would come out into the forest after the hunt ended, sobbing loudly as she buried the dead birds. It was such an absurd thing that it had stuck in his memory.
So what about the girl who was no longer a child?
Pondering that peculiar curiosity, Matthias aimed his gun at a small bird perched on the end of a branch.
Bang.
With the crisp crack of the gunshot, the bird dropped to the ground with a thud.
Leaving the felled prey behind, Matthias slowly urged his horse forward.
Once. Again once more.
Aiming and firing, Matthias pressed on toward the forest as evening fell. And along that path, one by one, bloodied birds came to rest.
I hate him.
Leila repeated the fact to herself with every shovelful of dirt as she dug a hole and buried a bird.
She hated the Duke Herhardt with his cruel hobby. She really, truly hated him.
Wiping sweat from her forehead, Leila swallowed the sorrow rising in her throat. She had thought it was finally over, but just a few meters away lay yet another bird, drenched in blood. Steadying her breath, Leila gripped her shovel and approached.
She didn’t want to condemn all killing. Uncle Bill hunted for rabbit stew, and Leila had raised livestock herself. But this—this senseless killing just for amusement, discarding them carelessly without a second thought—she couldn’t begin to understand it.
When would this summer end?
Letting out a long sigh, Leila prayed that her favorite season would fade quickly. And she buried another bird. It was a redpoll with beautiful markings.
It was only after she had ventured deep into the forest that she realized something felt off. The Duke Herhardt hunted every year, and Leila buried the birds every year, but she had no memory of graves laid out so regularly like this. What was it? It almost felt like a path made of dead birds.
Maybe I should turn back now.
Seized by an ominous foreboding, Leila halted. She looked up at the sky, burning red. And following that sunset glow, beyond the shrubbery, she saw him. The Duke Herhardt, sitting on a felled tree stump and staring at her.
As Leila’s mind went blank and she staggered, he greeted her leisurely.
“Hello, Leila.”
Matthias von Herhardt’s voice was as soft as the feathers of the birds he had shot dead.
“Anyway, Matthias is late. It seems like everyone else who went out with him has already returned.”
Elise von Herhardt’s eyes narrowed as she set down her cards. The card games were starting to bore her anyway. It might be fine to begin dinner a little early, but Matthias still hadn’t returned from the hunting grounds.
“He said he was going to take a stroll through the forest.”
Claudine replied with a gentle smile. Her expression was bright, unbecoming of someone who had just lost the game.
The noble ladies at the card table, well aware that it had been an intentional loss, looked at Claudine with pleased smiles. A future duchess who possessed quick wits, manners, and elegance. Claudine knew better than anyone the sentiments contained in everyone’s gazes.
“Anyway, Matthias really loves that forest.”
As Elise von Herhardt lightly rang a bell, the maids approached and began clearing the table.
The bored noble ladies, reseated around the drawing room table, enjoyed simple refreshments while chatting idly. Trivial, predictable topics delivered with the utmost elegance and decorum.
“By the way, Claudine. How about inviting your friends and hosting a party?”
At Elise von Herhardt’s suggestion, Claudine’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Me, here in Arbis?”
“You must get bored entertaining us every day, so wouldn’t a change of pace be nice once in a while?”
“No, not at all. That’s not true.”
“What a reaction. I’m kidding, Claudine.”
Her face, laughing leisurely, was so young and beautiful that it was hard to believe she was the mother of a son about to be engaged. It resembled Matthias quite closely too.
Even Elise von Herhardt, the beauty who had captivated the empire in her time and earned its acclaim, had not monopolized her husband’s love. Thinking of that made Claudine find women who clung to love even more ridiculous.
The previous Duke Herhardt, like most men of his station, had kept a mistress, but he had not committed the folly of producing illegitimate heirs to disrupt the succession. Even if they did not love each other, the Duke and Duchess Herhardt respected one another and fulfilled their duties faithfully. A clean family without pointless hopes or desires gnawing at each other. What Claudine wanted from Matthias was not so different.
“Don’t feel burdened, Claudine. Think of it as a rehearsal. It would be fun for us too if the manor got lively with young people for once.”
Elise von Herhardt’s smile grew even brighter.
“Don’t you all think so?”
Everyone present knew that question wasn’t seeking their opinions.
“Truly, you’re so generous and kind.”
Countess Brandt was the first to offer praise. Soon, the other noble ladies joined in with slightly exaggerated compliments.
Claudine bowed her head slightly, a shy smile on her lips. As she thought of friends she wanted to invite, her gaze was drawn, as if by a magnet, to the window. Seeing the forest beyond the setting sun in the garden brought that girl to mind.
Leila, the poor orphan living in that forest.
So polite, so aware of her place, and yet, for some reason, she felt unbelievably arrogant.
“Would it be all right to invite Leila?”
At Claudine’s cheerful question, the noble ladies frowned.
“You don’t mean that orphan raised by the gardener, do you?”
“Yes. That girl, Leila Llewellyn.”
“Claudine!”
Countess Brandt gave her an embarrassed look, but Claudine remained composed.
“That poor girl has probably never attended a formal party in her life. I want to give Leila a nice memory.”
Even as she spoke so boldly, Claudine never lost her ladylike poise and dignity.
“Now that you mention it, that does make sense.”
A pleased smile appeared on the lips of Lady Norma Katarina von Herhardt, who had been watching Claudine.
“Do as you wish, Claudine.”
Leila looked back along the path she had taken while burying the birds. And when she turned her head again to look at him, there was only one conclusion she could draw.
He’s insane.
No other words seemed to explain the situation.
Cold sweat beaded in Leila’s hands, still gloved in bloodstained gardening gloves. Her heart began pounding as if it would burst, a mix of anger and fear.
I have to run. The moment her mind, finally able to think, issued the command and she turned to flee, his voice rang out again.
“Leila.”
His expression was calm as he called her name slowly.
“Leila Llewellyn.”
Once more, the name he murmured quietly sounded almost like a song.
Leila straightened her posture, using the shovel in her hand like a cane. She pressed her lips tight and braced her legs.
Running would be pointless. If he wanted to, the duke could catch her easily. Realizing that cleared her mind instead, making it cool and sharp.
Leila bowed her head in greeting, then lifted her trembling eyes to meet his gaze. As the silent staring continued, the sound of the wind rustling the forest grew louder.
“Keep going.”
Matthias broke the silence first.
“Do your work.”
His eyes gestured to the underbrush, where what seemed to be the final prey lay.
Leila trudged over. A red thread was tied to the ankle of the bloodied bird. It was the thread Leila had tied to the chicks of water pipits that hatched by the Shulter River last year.
The bird that had wintered in a distant southern land and returned had ultimately lost its life in the place it was born. Just for that man’s trivial amusement.
Silently, Leila dug a hole and buried the bird. It was work she had grown accustomed to, thanks to that beautiful birds’ slaughterer.
“That thread—you tied it?”
He asked, watching her almost sentimentally.
“Yes.”
“Why.”
“I wanted to recognize it if the migratory bird that left came back.”
Leila answered as she covered it with dirt.
“Though I didn’t hope for a reunion like this.”
She let out a slightly ragged breath and looked up to see the Duke Herhardt wearing a composed expression.
“Do you want to condemn me?”
He asked, crossing his legs as he sat.
That fleeting sneer at the corner of Matthias’s mouth exhausted Leila’s patience.
“I couldn’t say no.”
“What’s the problem?”
He lightly furrowed his brow.
“I was just hunting my birds in my territory, in my hunting grounds.”
“But Your Grace, the birds don’t know that.”
Think of Uncle Bill.
Despite the command echoing in her mind, Leila opened her mouth anyway.
“To the birds, it’s just the forest. The place where they were born and raised, where they live. The place they want to return to even after flying to very far away.”
“Do I need to understand the birds’ feelings too?”
“Not that, but…”
Leila took off her bloodstained gardening gloves and clutched them, catching her breath.
“Still, isn’t there any need for such cruel hunting?”
It took more courage to say those words aloud than when she had boarded a train as a child with just a single letter of address for this place. Regret came late, but the duke showed no anger or displeasure. That eerie calm suffocated her even more.
“Leila Llewellyn, who understands the birds’ hearts so well.”
Matthias finally spoke after a long pause.
“What do you think hunting is?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you want me to hunt tenderly?”
His mockery scraped at her heart. Leila twisted the hem of her skirt, enduring the humiliation.
“…I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. Please forgive my rudeness.”
“Why do you like birds so much?”
“It probably wouldn’t interest Your Grace.”
No longer wanting to look at him, Leila lowered her eyes. The duke said nothing.
“I’ve finished my work, so I’ll take my leave.”
Leila bowed deeply. He remained silent this time too.
Relieved, Leila turned to go. And just as she took a single step, a cold gunshot echoed.
Leila whipped around, her face drained of color. The duke, who had aimed his gun at the treetops and now lowered it, stared at her impassively. Between them lay yet another bloodied bird.
“What now, Leila.”
The duke sat back casually on the tree stump as if nothing had happened.
“Your work isn’t done yet.”
