Chapter 2
Death Can’t Sleep
The mansion’s floors were covered in thick carpets, muffling footsteps even from a large man like the Grand Duke. Amarion chased after him frantically through the opulent halls.
They stopped in a bedroom. It had likely been prepared in haste, yet it was perfectly appointed as a couple’s chamber. Elegant blackwood furniture and a pervasive dark aesthetic created an intimate coziness, while weapons and armor adorned the walls, proclaiming it as his domain.
“This is the room you and I will share.”
She caught the profound fatigue in his voice.
He dragged a hand down his face.
“Your sole duty is this: remain by my side while I sleep.”
Amarion stared at the Grand Duke in shock.
‘What is he saying?’
‘Isn’t it natural for a wedded couple to share a bed?’
Before she could voice her thoughts, he continued.
“Above all, you must stay awake.”
“Stay awake? All night?”
“Yes. Remain vigilant and watch over me.”
‘Watch over him… how?’
He plucked a sword from the wall and tossed it to her. She caught it effortlessly and drew the blade; its length and balance suited her physique perfectly.
His tone darkened.
“If the task proves too much, cut me down. I won’t hold it against you.”
“What…”
Before she could press further, he summoned the servants. He ordered the mansion’s doors locked against visitors.
“Prepare a bath for my wife. Escort her there.”
Silent maids led her to the bathroom. The extravagantly luxurious space resembled a masterpiece painting, but they hurried her behind a partition to the bathtub, affording no time to admire it.
The maids swiftly stripped away her travel-soiled clothes and filled the tub with steaming water.
Submerged in the dizzyingly fragrant bath, she gazed out the window. The sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the sky in breathtaking hues.
Confusion clouded her mind, refusing to lift—in fact, it deepened.
She couldn’t fathom his words about bedtime, demanding she stay awake while he slept, even permitting her to strike him.
Perhaps it tied to why he had chosen her—a knight of exceptional skill.
The maids provided fresh undergarments and nightclothes before departing.
Amarion returned to the bedroom, marveling at the silken softness against her skin.
***
The Grand Duke was already there when she entered, clad only in a dark robe that revealed a physique near perfection.
As a woman, she couldn’t help but admire it.
She held her tongue, noting his exhaustion. He reached up to ring the bedside bell. Servants drew the curtains with meticulous care.
Once the fire was extinguished, only a few candles by the bed illuminated the room.
The Grand Duke collapsed onto the bed without even drawing a blanket over himself.
“Don’t sleep. Not for a moment. If you wish to see the morning sun.”
She nodded, though questions burned within her. Drawing up a chair, she sat beside him, cradling the sword in her lap.
He fell asleep almost instantly. Only the faint rhythm of his breathing assured her he lived, not perished.
To fend off her own weariness, she counted silently, forcing her heavy eyelids open.
How much time passed?
An hour?
Two?
Her travel-weary body screamed for rest. In anguish, she glanced at the man slumbering beside her.
Then, abruptly, his eyes snapped open.
***
His eyelids parted slowly.
She called out in alarm.
“Grand Duke?”
He did not respond. Slowly, he rose and slipped from the bed.
He wandered aimlessly for a moment, then seized a longsword from the wall. His clouded gaze swept the room, landing on her—and halting.
‘No…’
Instinctively, she drew her blade. At that instant, he lunged.
Their swords clashed with a piercing ring.
As they dueled, she realized the Grand Duke was not himself—likely sleepwalking. Yet his strength dwarfed hers. Each parry sent tremors through her arms, forcing her back.
Victory was impossible in a direct clash.
She dodged a thrust at her head and cried out.
“Grand Duke Morte!”
He remained unresponsive. His blade whistled eerily, cornering her where defense faltered. Continuing passively would spell her doom.
She maneuvered toward the bed, angling so his swing would glance off it. As he struck, she smashed the sword’s pommel into the nape of his neck.
The Grand Duke staggered and crumpled onto the bed.
‘Is he…?’
Gasping, she prodded him cautiously with her sword’s tip. No reaction.
She retreated to huddle beneath the window, far from the bed. Sleep had fled her utterly.
‘Is this why he needed a watcher? But why would sleep twist him so? Unless… demonic possession!’
She longed to flee, yet had nowhere to go.
Sheathing her sword, she clutched it tight, ready to draw in an instant. Her trembling hands made it rattle faintly.
‘Terrifying…’
In the candlelight, she curled into herself, striving to vanish into the shadows.
***
Only at dawn’s first birdcalls did the Grand Duke stir. He awoke abruptly, scanning the room. Spotting her huddled against the wall, his eyes widened.
“You’re alive.”
She couldn’t resist retorting.
“Were you hoping otherwise?”
“No, merely… surprised.”
As he rose from the bed, she staggered upright. Her strained eyes burned; shivers wracked her from the chill window vigil in thin nightclothes. That night had eclipsed the rigors of their journey.
Shock and exhaustion quaked her frame.
The Grand Duke regarded her, adjusting his robe, then snatched a blanket from the bed.
“Here—take this.”
She recoiled as he stepped closer.
“…You’ve done well. I’ll explain later. Rest now. Eat when you wake.”
Questions teemed, but fatigue overwhelmed her. She collapsed onto the bed and slept instantly.
***
When Amarion awoke, the sun rode high. Refreshed yet ravenously hungry, she rang the bell.
Elderly maids entered, heads bowed.
“Awake, Madame?”
Their politeness disarmed her. Awkwardly, she requested food and water for washing.
The Grand Duke had long departed.
She refreshed herself with petal-flecked cool water and a golden comb.
Her meal arrived: tender braised meat, soft eggs, and pudding—delicacies rare in her northern lands.
She ate deliberately, masking her hunger before the servants.
“Forgive my tardy greeting, Madame. I am Sumona, head maid.”
“Hello, Sumona.”
“I’ll ensure your comfort. Ask anything you need.”
Amarion paused. One question burned foremost.
“What… ails him at night?”
Sumona shivered faintly, schooling her features, though her voice quavered.
“Did His Grace awaken last night, Madame?”
“Yes. What’s wrong with him?”
The maids murmured. Sumona silenced them with a sharp glance. Curiosity compelled Amarion onward.
“What do you know?”
The head maid answered warily.
“We believed His Grace slumbered through. Had he risen, we feared grave injury to you.”
Amarion’s eyes widened. The words baffled—and chilled.
‘So the Grand Duke and his servants all knew I’d face this?’
Sumona bowed deeply to the darkening Amarion.
“Forgive us, Madame. It’s the master’s deepest secret… We couldn’t warn you.”
“No matter. No one was hurt. I just wonder at the cause.”
