32 - I Got Engaged to a Blind Duke
Engaged to the Blind Duke Episode 32
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Rumble, crash.
A bolt of lightning struck the clear sky, flashing white beyond the curtained drapes.
The Duke, after a long while, drew back the curtains of his office window and lifted his head toward the sky.
"It seems rain is coming."
A faint, fishy scent of rain drifted through the air.
"He told me not to come?"
"Yes. They plan to hold the funeral quickly and said they fully understand if Your Grace, whose movements are inconvenient, cannot attend. Killon, the Baron, sent the letter."
"That trash is still alive?"
"Yes. Unfortunately."
Olive agreed with a blunt expression.
Killon, the Baron, younger brother of Count Adria, was a disgrace to the family. He constantly caused trouble with alcohol, gambling, and women.
The sincere and kind Count Adria always helped his younger brother, Killon, whenever he got into trouble.
"When is the funeral?"
"In seven days."
Olive swallowed his anger and answered quickly.
Even traveling swiftly from here to the southern Count's estate would take at least ten days.
It was clear Killon, the Baron, had deliberately sent the letter late.
"We depart immediately."
"Yes. Shall I have Lady Marin prepare as well?"
"No."
Gerald refused firmly.
"Lady Marin would be of great help."
Olive urged again with a regretful look in his eyes.
After Gerald sat in his chair, he turned his head toward Olive.
"Olive, do you have too much time on your hands?"
"No. My apologies."
The moment Olive bowed his head in apology, Gerald's head turned toward the office door.
Zero flung the door open and entered, his nightgown fluttering. He strode directly over and thumped a heavy wooden box down onto the desk.
Zero stared silently at Gerald's face for a long moment, then gave a slight nod of his head.
"My condolences."
"Right."
And without adding another word, he turned and left.
"Shall I open it?"
Olive, standing nearby, asked cautiously.
Gerald nodded silently without a word.
Inside the box lay a heavy cane made of ebony wood.
The black, smooth cane gleamed faintly, a testament to its fine craftsmanship.
"It's a cane."
Olive looked at the cane with an admiring gaze. It was something he should have taken care of sooner.
It was the item the Duke needed least personally, but it was necessary for public appearances.
Olive took out the cane and offered it to Gerald.
Gerald stroked the heavy cane with one hand, then pressed a slightly protruding part near the handle.
A sharp blade sprang out from the tip of the cane.
The corner of Gerald's mouth lifted fiercely.
"Good."
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Thump, thump, thump.
Marin was diligently pounding Mandelesong when she blankly cast her gaze out the window.
Rain was pouring down as if a hole had been torn in the bluish dawn sky.
"Haa."
As her pink lips parted, a deep sigh escaped involuntarily.
In the novel, there was only a brief mention that the Count and Countess died in an unexpected accident. Not even the exact timing was given.
She had known about both the Duke's eyes and the Count couple's accident, but she couldn't help.
Of course, even if she had known the exact timing, she couldn't have brought herself to tell the Duke.
A commoner woman from the west foretelling the accident of a southern Count and Countess?
She'd surely be accused of being a spy, or worse, a witch, and risk being burned at the stake.
They probably wouldn't have believed her in the first place.
"Haa."
But the pain and regret in her heart were unavoidable.
Yuria, who was making Mandresson Grass beside her, glanced at her cautiously and called softly.
"Lady Marin."
"Yes?"
"Why are you sighing so much?"
Seeing Yuria's worried expression, Marin forced a smile and gently stroked her red hair.
"It's nothing. Yuria, thank you for helping me like this, even losing sleep."
"Not at all. I'm happy to help you, Lady Marin. But why do you need so much Mandresson Grass? Is your head still hurting? Wouldn't it be better to tell the aide and see the physician?"
Marin had been making Mandresson Grass daily, using a headache as her excuse.
But this was something she couldn't tell anyone.
Mandelesong was, strictly speaking, a poisonous herb.
If things went wrong, even by a small chance, Yuria, who helped make the paste, could be implicated.
It had to be something she handled alone.
"It's just a mild headache, and this paste is perfect for it."
"Yes, then I'll keep making it diligently."
"Thank you."
They might depart for the south as early as this morning. To go with the Duke, she needed a lot of Mandresson Grass.
Being a common weed, the flowers were easy to obtain. But she thought it would be difficult to make the paste while avoiding people's eyes, so she planned to make as much as possible and take it with her.
Just then, a knock was heard at the door.
"It's Olive."
Marin hurriedly glanced out the window. A warm yellow light was peeking through, splitting the bluish sky.
"Yes."
Yuria, who answered immediately, started to rise from her seat, but Marin patted her shoulder and stood up first.
"I'll go."
"Yes."
Marin visually checked her dress. She was ready to leave at any time.
When she opened the door and stepped out, Olive stood there, the area under his eyes reddish.
His face, which usually wore a smiling expression, was darkened by sorrow.
Having grown up like a brother with the Duke, Olive probably knew the Duke's sister well.
"Sir Olive."
"Lady Marin."
Olive's eyes widened slightly as he saw she was still dressed in her outdoor clothes.
"I'm ready. I can leave anytime."
Olive looked at her with an admiring gaze.
"You were preparing in advance. I actually came about that matter."
"Shall we leave right away?"
"No. It's His Grace's order. He says Lady Marin is to remain here."
"What? Why?"
Marin's light green eyes wavered with disappointment.
"He didn't give a reason. Well then, please rest comfortably in the meantime."
As Olive turned to leave, Marin hurriedly grabbed the hem of his clothes.
"Wait a moment! His Grace needs me, doesn't he?"
Olive, facing Marin again, gave a bitter smile.
"Yes. He does."
"Then why?"
Marin stared at him with confused eyes.
Olive, gently freeing the hem of his clothes from her grasp, hesitated, his lips parting and closing.
Marin called to him again.
"Sir Olive."
"Sigh. I have an idea of the reason, but......"
"What is it?"
"Can you ride in a carriage?"
"Ah......"
Marin's pink lips trembled slightly.
How on earth does he know? How much does he know?
As Marin's light green eyes shook with unease, Olive continued.
"I don't know the reason behind it, but I noticed you couldn't ride in a carriage when we moved last time."
Marin inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he thought she was simply vaguely afraid of carriages.
"Then if I ride a horse......"
Olive slowly shook his head.
"It will be a forced march. Those riding horses plan to run without sleeping. We have to cover a ten-day journey in one week. If you could ride in a carriage, you could at least sleep inside it, but..."
"Ah......"
Marin trailed off and lowered her head.
She couldn't bring herself to say she could ride in a carriage.
Just the thought of riding in a carriage made her head spin and nausea rise.
Olive gazed at her quietly with pitying eyes, then spoke.
"Then I shall take my leave now."
Marin, who had sharply lifted her head, asked with a pleading look.
"May I at least see you off?"
Olive smiled gently and nodded.
"Of course. Will you come out now?"
"Yes. Please give me a moment."
"I'll be waiting downstairs."
"Yes."
Marin hurriedly went back into her room. Yuria was still making Mandresson Grass.
"Yuria, can I ask one favor?"
"Yes."
"I think I'm hungry from staying up all night. Could you bring me some warm tea and warmed bread?"
Marin spoke in an awkward, theatrical tone, rubbing her stomach.
"Yes. I'll bring them right away."
Yuria rose from her seat with a kind smile.
"Thank you."
She left the room.
Because she had told Yuria the Mandresson Grass was for her own use, taking the paste out while Yuria was there would seem strange.
Marin hurriedly placed cloth, dry towels, and the Mandresson Grass into a picnic basket.
She had to leave the room quickly before Yuria returned.
