Death Can’t Sleep
Chapter 28
She stepped down from the carriage and lifted her gaze toward the castle, momentarily at a loss for words.
The inner walls, carved from pristine white stone, gleamed as though they were sculpted from ice itself. The structure was both ancient and breathtaking, carrying a presence so old it rivaled the Empire’s own history.
They approached the barbican. In front of the gate, dozens of servants stood in orderly lines, waiting.
“Welcome back, Grand Duke.”
A man who appeared to be the head servant bowed deeply, his expression unusually tense.
Victor looked down at him without much emotion.
“You must have had a difficult time while I was gone.”
“It was nothing, Your Highness. Serving you is my honor—”
“Is my wife’s chamber prepared?”
He cut him off before he could finish and began walking forward, an arm wrapped around her.
Startled, she had no choice but to hurry after him.
As they made their way through the castle, something felt off.
The attendants moved stiffly, their expressions guarded. The atmosphere was far colder than what she had experienced among the servants at the Capital residence.
After separating from Victor, she headed toward the Duchess’s chambers. The moment she touched the door, a chilling cold seemed to seep through it.
What’s wrong with this place…?
She wanted to ask, but without Victor beside her—and with the servants so distant—she hesitated.
The room itself felt abandoned, as though it had been untouched for years. Yet its furnishings were lavish: golden accents, snow-white walls, and a radiant white carpet that gave the space an almost unreal elegance.
She sat on the sofa as the servants began unpacking her belongings.
They worked in silence, carefully arranging her dresses and accessories without exchanging a single word.
Watching them from afar, she couldn’t help but compare them to her maids in the Capital, who were always chatting and lively. These servants, however, carried a chilling quietness that discouraged even simple conversation.
Are they always like this…?
A sudden noise broke her thoughts.
“Ah!”
One of the maids stumbled, collapsing under the weight of a heavy winter dress.
She immediately stood up and rushed over, but before she could help, the maid dropped to her knees.
“I’m so sorry, madame!”
She instinctively stepped back, startled.
Why is she reacting like that?
The maid was trembling uncontrollably.
And she wasn’t the only one—the others had frozen in place as well.
That was when she realized it.
They were afraid. Deeply afraid.
But why?
Their master was a hero of the Empire, and she was his wife—the lady of the house.
Victor was not the kind of man who would mistreat his servants.
So why are they so terrified?
She gently took the maid’s hand and helped her stand.
“Are you hurt?”
The maid, on the verge of tears, shook her head and answered quietly that she was fine.
Amarion guided her to the sofa and offered her a warm drink to help her recover.
The rest of the servants avoided eye contact, hastily returning to their tasks.
A strange unease settled in her chest—and only grew stronger.
That evening marked the grand banquet.
It was also a victory celebration, so every vassal of the Grand Duchy had been invited.
With the help of her silent maids, she prepared herself, though choosing a dress proved difficult.
She wasn’t sure what would be appropriate for Morte’s customs, and the maids were too frightened to offer advice.
In the end, she chose a modest, long-sleeved summer dress adorned with delicate pearl embroidery.
The maids selected an opal necklace to match.
“Thank you,” she said.
At her words, they flinched slightly and bowed deeply.
Growing impatient waiting for Victor, she made her way to the banquet hall on her own.
The hall was enormous.
Long tables draped in white cloth stretched across the room, decorated with elegant candlesticks and intricate tableware. Diederick had kept his promise—there was an abundance of food, from large roasted turkeys to smaller game dishes.
The sight of it eased her tension immediately.
Victor soon joined her, dressed in the same striking attire he had worn in the Capital.
He smiled gently.
“You must be tired of hearing this, but you truly are beautiful.”
I am a little tired of it… but it’s still nice.
She looked away, her ears warming, pretending to examine the room.
The knights sat on one side, lively and relaxed, while the vassals on the opposite side appeared tense and restrained.
Why is that…?
Is it because they haven’t seen their lord in a while?
Lost in thought, she barely noticed when Victor began the banquet with a short speech.
“I thank the vassals who governed in my absence, and the knights who fought beside me. Tonight, we celebrate their efforts—eat and drink freely.”
As soon as he sat, the feast began.
She pushed aside her thoughts and picked up her fork.
Wine was soon served—rich and smooth, unlike the bitter alcohol she had known in Amari.
As the meal progressed, she and Victor were eventually pulled toward the knights’ table for various reasons.
The vassals, perhaps out of caution, didn’t press Victor to drink—but the knights certainly did.
Barrels of strong liquor had already been emptied, and many of them were visibly drunk.
“…Our Madame can take down three wolves in a single strike…”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s true! Even if she fought with just her elbows, she’d win.”
Leonard nodded seriously as he refilled her glass.
She took a sip.
Normally, she only drank when necessary—but the wine was so pleasant she found herself continuing.
Carlz, already flushed, raised his voice.
“Madame! Take it slow. No matter how strong you are, alcohol clouds the mind.”
“Does it…?”
She looked at him blankly.
Honestly, she was more concerned about him.
His face was as red as his hair.
Scratching her cheek, she poured herself another glass.
Back in Amari, alcohol was made from fruits and medicinal herbs rather than grains. Left to ferment for years, it became extremely strong—and unbearably bitter.
It was used more as medicine than drink.
Compared to that, the Empire’s wine was almost gentle.
She remained seated as one knight after another collapsed from drunkenness. Even Raoul, who lasted the longest, eventually gave in.
“Madame… what kind of life have you lived…”
He slumped over and began snoring.
She finished her drink and glanced around.
Victor was nowhere to be seen.
Her eyes fell on the half-open curtains leading to the terrace.
She stood and walked toward them.
“…Victor?”
As expected, he was there.
He turned at her voice, exhaling slowly. A faint smile touched his lips.
“Did you enjoy the wine?”
“I didn’t drink that much.”
She stood beside him.
From the terrace, the entire estate could be seen below.
Though not as dazzling as the Capital, it was orderly and peaceful.
Under the cool summer sky, lights flickered from the houses like scattered stars.
She looked up at him.
His amber eyes rested calmly over his land.
What is he thinking about?
He had been unusually quiet all day.
Even earlier, he had only smiled politely at others.
Is he… not happy to be back?
Suddenly, he spoke.
“What do you think of this place?”
She blinked in surprise.
“It feels alive… somewhat like Amari. Though… everyone here is much wealthier.”
He smiled faintly, as if expecting that answer.
“I’m glad you like it. This land is yours as well…”
He murmured softly to himself.
“My land… a place where I can hold you… and keep you hidden.”
He slowly turned to look at her.
There was something unfamiliar in his gaze—something intense.
Is he drunk?
“Victor?”
Without hesitation, he stepped closer.
In an instant, he pulled her into his arms.
His breath brushed against her ear as he whispered.
“Do you know what angers me most about this illness?”
He leaned closer, his voice low and intimate.
“We never had our wedding night.”
Her face burned instantly.
Her heart pounded.
Under the starlit sky, his eyes were filled with unmistakable desire.
She turned away, unable to meet his gaze.
Of course… he meant they had never truly been together.
His illness had always come first—she had to watch over him, and he had never had the strength for anything else.
Even now, his condition had worsened during their journey.
So… this could wait.
She looked back at him.
His eyes were different—intense, unfamiliar… yet strangely captivating.
Forcing a small smile, she tried to push those thoughts away.
“You should rest. You’re exhausted.”
“Will you come with me?”
She almost said yes—but stopped herself.
“That’s not what I meant… I need to watch over you.”
“But, Marion…”
He gently touched her cheek.
“If you’re in my arms… I won’t fear anything. No nightmares, no illness… nothing.”
His voice was soft—almost pleading.
She took a slow breath.
