Even now, if I turned on my heel, scooped up Rose, and ran, I might preserve my life for at least a few more days.
Yet the die had already been cast, and the Grand Duke I knew was the sort of man who would crush that very die to dust in the palm of his hand. Just imagining what his brutal temper would do to a runaway bride and her little sister made me shudder from head to toe.
“My lady, you have endured a grueling journey. I am Count Hellas, chief of staff to His Grace the Grand Duke. It is an honor to meet you.”
“Ah, Count. I am Elijah, eldest daughter of Viscount Mayfield.”
Befitting a castle steeped in pitch black and utter silence, the man approached without so much as a whisper of a footstep. An elderly gentleman wearing rare, silver-rimmed spectacles bowed respectfully, welcoming me in person.
…So this is the old gentleman.
Though hardly the time for it, encountering characters from the novel never failed to spark a thrill. It felt akin to spotting a celebrity; my mouth and hands practically twitched with excitement.
“Thank you for such a warm welcome.”
“Not at all. Please, come inside without delay. We have prepared accommodations for you to stay in until the wedding.”
The Count responded with a curt, formal smile, yet it did not feel particularly off-putting.
Oh, please, no need to be like this. I know full well you’re a softie underneath.
He might act as stiff as a pine tree now, but eventually, he would end up trailing the Grand Duke’s endless brood of children on his back. Later on, his only lines would be things like, “Ho-ho, young master, must you do that?” or “Does the young lady love this old grandfather that much?”
He was the ultimate grandfather, tailor-made for an R-rated novel’s epilogue.
“…This way, if you please. I will have the chest you brought carried up as well.”
“Yes. If you would be so kind.”
Pressing my lips together to stifle a smile, I followed him.
Click, clack. The sound of my worn shoes echoed throughout the black corridor.
For an actual Count to guide me personally rather than a butler, it was plain just how towering the Grand Duke's status truly was.
…Hm.
Watching his back suddenly stirred a strange feeling inside me. I could not help but compare the noble young masters and ladies who would eventually cling to this old gentleman’s back with my poor Rose, shipped here inside a wooden crate. One cannot choose the circumstances of their birth, but everything after comes down to pure effort.
Rose, your turn isn’t far off!
What does it matter? Once your big sister makes some money, I’ll buy you an old grandfather to cling to as well!
While I was steeling my resolve with such grim determination, the Count’s steps halted at the end of the corridor. Heavens. Even his turn was as precise as if drawn with a ruler.
“Though it may be humble, this room will serve during your stay. Should you require anything at all, do not hesitate to speak.”
“Ah…”
Brushing past the Count as he extended an arm at the doorway, I finally stepped inside. The chamber was every bit as grand and solemn as expected. From the drapes and furnishings down to the bed, everything was appointed with top-tier antiques, making me feel as though I had stepped into a museum.
Was it fortunate that not quite everything was black? I lightly ran a fingertip over the black candelabra resting atop the marble table.
…What a taste.
Who on earth spends money like this?
It went without saying that this cost a fortune, and it seemed a pity that so much coin was wasted in such a dreary fashion. Had they handed it over to my eldest sister, she might have squandered a good deal, but she certainly knew how to spend money so that every single coin flaunted itself.
“Is it to your liking? I endeavored to prepare it as best I could.”
“Oh my goodness.”
And my flair for social survival was something money could never buy. Wearing an expression of rapt awe, I drifted toward a chair beside the candelabra.
“It is truly magnificent. It is neither gaudy nor delicately ornate, but that makes it feel all the more special—a quiet grandeur woven into everyday life, shall I say? An extraordinary eye that not just anyone could imitate.”
“…Is that so?”
Faced with such an abstruse assessment, the old gentleman nodded after a beat. Yes, you have no idea what that means, do you? Don't worry, neither do I.
The Count was entirely different from the naive Jerome.
Given his years of experience, a bashful smile would hardly be enough to win him over. If I could just gain his trust by carrying myself with an elegant modesty that showed I knew my place, that would suffice.
In truth, mistress of the house was just a title; in reality, I was nothing more than a human shield. Rather than stirring up unnecessary trouble I couldn't handle, I needed to make the best possible impression on the chief of staff and power behind the throne. From now on, every word and deed of mine would filter through him to the Grand Duke. In other words, the Count was not merely an advisor, but the adhesive holding my very skin to my bones.
“…My lady, His Grace the Grand Duke will not return until late tonight. Ordinarily, he ought to have greeted you today, but given the circumstances, I ask that you not take it to heart.”
“Pardon?”
“He has lived in solitude for so long that taking a wife cannot change his ways overnight… Ahem.”
Why bother putting it so delicately? You could just tell me not to expect to see my husband's face and let it be.
I had waited attentively to see what grave matter he wished to discuss, only to feel utterly deflated. Yet with the Count watching, I merely nodded diligently, playing the part of a thoughtful listener.
“I understand. Everything still feels unfamiliar to me as well.”
For my part, the longer he stays away, the better. If he never shows up at all, that would be even better.
If the Grand Duke stays away, all of this belongs to me! No need to painstakingly unfurl a map and carve out a path for my life—this right here is the happy ending.
Yet the old gentleman standing before me wore a grave expression.
“…I regret having to speak of such things on your very first day, but I thought it best you were informed beforehand.”
“Yes, please. Go right ahead.”
“I presume you are already aware, my lady. Regarding His Grace’s… appearance.”
“Ah…”
How did one put on a sorrowful expression again?
Having to summon it so suddenly threw me off, but resting one hand against my chest while covering my mouth with the other did a passable job of conveying the sentiment.
Better to just humor him for now. One look at the Count’s solemn face showed he was choosing his words with great care.
“…I speak purely out of an old man’s concern, hoping you might understand that His Grace’s countenance is… not particularly fair, owing to the curse.”
“I see.”
The position of chief of staff was certainly no walk in the park. To think he had to dress it up so grandly when he could have simply said, “He’s a beast.” If anything, I felt more pity for him.
“Will you truly… be all right, my lady?”
“Of course.”
“…”
Even to my own ears, my voice sounded calm and gentle. This was the Grand Duke's Castle’s chief of staff, after all. I had anticipated that I might face a question like this at least once.
“Outward appearance is nothing more than skin. Even that skin will eventually… well, in any case, I do not dwell on such matters.”
“…My lady.”
“For true beauty is not something displayed on the surface.”
Count, you must place your complete faith in me.
Truly, it was the perfect tone of voice to empathize with the old gentleman’s greatest worry while accentuating the poignant vulnerability of a new bride.
“I understand your concern, but there is no need to worry. Whatever one's outward features may be, they cannot compare to the beauty that naturally emanates from within.”
Honestly, looking at it closely, this was not entirely flattery or lies.
Take my father, Viscount Mayfield, for example; what a grand, dignified figure he cut on the outside. Having spent my entire life cleaning up after handsome, charming people, a beast who could take proper care of his own affairs would look infinitely more beautiful to me.
“…Is that so. This old man feels a weight lifted from his heart.”
“Not at all. I have merely spoken what is truly in my heart.”
Besides, hadn’t I just encountered the ultimate pinnacle of human aesthetics at the dessert shop in Liden? Once an eye has beheld such peerless beauty, Sir Jerome, not to mention any ordinary handsome man, ceases to hold any meaning.
Inner beauty.
Faced with my deeply understanding smile, the Count’s expression softened considerably compared to when we first met.
“…Then I shall head down and instruct them to prepare a fire in the hearth. Please rest comfortably.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Exchanging a courteous bow, I saw the Count off with an elegant gait. Only after his footsteps had faded completely into the distance did I shut the massive door.
Thud.
“…Whew.”
One crisis averted!
After lingering with my eyes closed, leaning back against the door, I hurried straight over to the chest by the hearth. Flattery and survival tactics could only carry me through a month or two at best. With only one night remaining before I met the Grand Duke, my true means of survival were all packed inside that box.
* * *
Neigh!
Skillfully pulling on the reins, he cleared the moat of churning black water in a single leap. Though mounted on horseback with his face veiled from sight, there was no masking his presence.
Clang.
Even as the guards bowed one after another upon recognizing their master, he merely passed them by with utter indifference.
“…”
Only upon reaching the foot of the colossal marble staircase leading up to the castle entrance did he vault down. He lifted his head to pat the black steed, which still huffed and snorted despite having run so hard. His gaze and expression, far past indifferent into chillingly detached, melted into the gloom as though he were the master of the night itself.
“…You have returned, Your Grace.”
“I told you not to wait.”
Pat, pat. He stroked the horse's face, never once turning to look at the Count. As if receiving his welcome at this ungodly hour were the most natural thing in the world, he turned smoothly and ascended the stairs.
“Did your errand go well?”
“Passably.”
Terse as ever. Not out of deliberate malice, but born of a natural demeanor that was detached, aloof, and languid. Only after stepping into the deserted ground-floor study did he sweep his hair back as if stifled.
“…Where is she?”
“Pardon?”
“The person who was supposed to arrive today.”
