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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: The Locked Tower
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✵ ✵ ✵
He had a nightmare.
In the dream, Eric was walking down a creaking wooden hallway.
He knew exactly where he was.
The hallway leading to his mother's room in the annex.
From the end of the hall came a bizarre moaning sound...
Eric's mind was splitting in two.
The desire to open the door at the end of the hall clashed with the desperate wish to never know the source of that grotesque sound.
Caught in the vortex of that conflict, Eric walked on without stopping.
“Ugh… ugh…”
Even as he heard the strange noise, he couldn’t stop, not when he knew that room was his mother’s.
‘Young Master, you must not enter the madam’s room for the time being.’
‘The madam is very ill and cannot hold you.’
The servants had tried to stop him.
‘Eric. Your mother is very ill. You wouldn’t want to make her sicker, would you? And above all else…’
His father, especially, had loathed the idea of Eric going to that room.
‘…What if you were to catch it? You are the next duke. My son. Nothing in this residence is more important than your well-being.’
Nothing in this residence was more important than Eric’s well-being.
That’s what his father had said.
But to Eric, there was something more important.
“Or… Or… leans…”
You.
Eric finally reached the end of the hallway. When he grasped the doorknob, the door opened with absurd ease. It seemed it might have already been slightly ajar.
Through the crack in the door, Eric saw a woman sitting at a table, writing something.
You.
Her hair, which she always wore in a neat braid, was completely undone.
Fourteen-year-old Eric watched Emily Orleans through the crack in the door. He watched her left hand as it nervously tore at the ends of her unbound hair.
He remembered the day her soft hair had fluttered in the wind.
It had only been two years ago.
It was summer, during a trip to the south.
The sea was just an hour’s carriage ride from the Orleans’ country house.
Emily had nearly fallen while going to watch the sunset from the edge of a cliff. Eric had rushed over and grabbed her hand. Emily had flinched, then spoke, her eyes filled with a strange sadness.
‘Now you’re the one holding my hand.’
‘I’m all grown up now.’
Around that time, Emily had already seemed a little weary and had become easily agitated. Especially during meals with the Duke.
‘Yes. You are all grown up…’
Emily had looked down at Eric’s grown hands with sad eyes.
Eric couldn’t understand why his mother spoke that way.
Though only twelve, Eric was already as tall as her chin, and even though he couldn’t properly wield his aura yet, he won five out of every ten matches against his sword instructor.
And yet, his mother’s eyes seemed to grieve her inability to protect him.
‘But even grown-ups need someone to hold their hand sometimes… sometimes…’
His mother had caressed his cheek. Even in the dream, the sensation was vivid.
It was then. Through the crack in the door, he saw his mother look up.
Through her disheveled hair, he saw his mother’s eyes. They were fixed on something not of this world, a relentless gaze.
The only thing he could read in that gaze was pure rage.
“Orleans…”
Orleans.
“I gave birth to a monster’s child…”
There was no soul in his mother’s eyes. Only a grim obsession that had completely possessed her.
“I gave birth to a monster’s child!”
*Creeak.*
It happened in an instant.
He had accidentally tightened his grip on the doorknob, and the door had creaked open.
His mother’s eyes shot toward him. They looked as if they might pop out of her head. Eric was terrified.
But at the same time—
“Young Master!”
He could tell.
His mother was terrified, too.
Why?
But why?
…Was it because I was the monster’s child?
…Because I was the monster?
…Was I making you unhappy?
…Was I driving you mad?
“Young Master!”
From behind, he heard the butler’s voice. The butler gripped his shoulder.
That was the last time.
The last time he saw his mother.
The last time he saw her eyes, frightened and her body huddled in on itself. That was the last time.
A week later.
His mother was found in the forest, her body hanging from a tree.
That was why Eric hated eyes like that.
Frightened eyes.
Eyes that seemed to be waiting for death, their owner’s body curled up tight.
Eric opened his eyes.
*Rustle.*
A strange sound reached his ears.
Through the terrible aftereffects of the drug, the first thing Eric saw was Imeline’s petticoat sliding to the floor.
Eric shot up in bed.
“What are you doing?”
✵ ✵ ✵
“What do you mean, what…?”
I spun around as if I’d been caught in the act of a crime. Eric, who had only sat up, was pulling the blanket up to his chin.
‘Why is he using the blanket like a shield…?’
“Why are you taking off your clothes…”
Eric pointed to the petticoat that had fallen beneath my ruined dress. He looked at me with the wary eyes of a deer facing a predator.
“...?”
In a flash of understanding, I shot up from the bed and backed away.
“Hey, it’s not what you think!”
“…”
He looked unconvinced.
Ugh, seriously.
I stealthily hid the notebook under the petticoat and glared at him.
“Why are you staring at my undergarments! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable a dress is? It was suffocating, that’s all!”
As I shouted like I was about to breathe fire, Eric hesitated for a moment.
“Is… is that really it?”
“As if I’d do something to an unconscious person… I really don’t know why I have to put up with this kind of misunderstanding.”
“The Rose that Blooms at Night.”
Eric pointed a finger straight at me.
“You knocked me out there, too, and…”
Eric trailed off, as if the rest of the sentence was too indecent to utter.
Ah, right. I did knock him out and strip him there. Well, he passed out on his own, but still.
I was left speechless, blinking my eyes.
Still, this feels a little unfair. I was the one undressing this time!
“I’m putting my petticoat back on, so just turn around!”
I yelled, grabbing the fallen petticoat along with the diary.
This diary… I can’t exactly show it to him right now. I can’t let the innocent young master fall further into darkness, can I?
“My eyes are already closed.”
“And how am I supposed to believe that?”
“…Don’t lump me in with people like you.”
Eric ground his teeth.
What kind of person is a person like me?
I held the notebook against my waist and tied the petticoat on again as tightly as I could.
After that, not wanting to be misunderstood again, I walked over to the sofa by the bed.
Then I saw Eric, still sitting on the bed, covering his eyes with both hands.
‘He’s surprisingly obedient.’
If it were me, I would’ve peeked through my fingers.
I cleared my throat with a *hem hem*. At that, Eric removed his hands from his eyes.
I put my hands on my hips and asked.
“Why did the princess lock us in here?”
I pointed toward the locked door. Eric sighed as if he knew this was coming and got out of bed.
“She even drugged us! I never took the princess for that kind of person. What is her deal!”
Actually, I kind of did, but it’s just an expression.
“Did I escape one psycho only to meet another?!”
As I shouted in frustration, Eric answered with a strange calmness.
“…Lower your voice. We are within the royal palace. Such remarks are punishable as contempt of the royal family.”
Hearing Eric’s unusually composed voice, I scrunched up my face.
I plopped down on the sofa and pulled out a few hairpins that were stuck in my veil.
I also threw off the single glove that remained. With both hands free, I straightened one of the hairpins I’d pulled from my hair and asked.
“We’re inside the royal palace?”
“Yes. From what I heard just before I lost consciousness, it’s probably the west tower… But what are you doing?”
“We have to get out of here.”
Eric stared, dumbfounded, as I searched for a crack in what I assumed was the door, using the flattened hairpin.
We have to get out…
A dark room, not small, but with no exit.
I’d been feeling sick for a while now.
‘Ugh…’
But contrary to my hopes, I couldn’t find even the slightest crack. Eric watched me for a moment before muttering disdainfully.
“…Do you really think you can pick a palace lock with that?”
“I think it’s better than just sitting around, don’t you?”
I retorted quickly, stung by Eric’s comment but unwilling to back down.
Eric shook his head and buried his face in his hands.
“Imeline Wedgwood… Just sit down. The door won’t open until morning anyway.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
That means we have to stay like this for a whole day!
“How can you expect me to just sit and wait!”
I searched even more fervently for a crack. There must be a secret door hidden here, just like in the Duke’s secret storeroom.
Otherwise, why would they make such a strange room without a door? It’s not like this is a prison.
Besides, who puts a bed this big and soft in a prison?!
While I poked around with the flattened hairpin, Eric just narrowed his eyes and glared at me.
He said.
“What kind of life have you lived?”
“You’d get hurt if you knew.”
A young master like you would be in for a shock, that’s for sure. I could never tell him I worked for a loan shark known as the Witch of the South, creating ledgers with invisible ink and studying the art of lock-picking!
I scratched the back of my neck and took off my glass slippers to give my aching feet a rest from running around all day.
As he watched me standing on my tiptoes, barefoot, inspecting the walls, Eric’s face twisted in disgust.
“What a terrible bride.”
“Is this really the time for that? What on earth is the princess plotting by locking us in here?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
Eric looked exhausted. Then again, he said he’d been given a lot more of the drug than I had.
‘That princess is a real thug…’
Locking up your allies right in the middle of a strategy meeting? Ugh, I can never work with these high-and-mighty types. Even villains have a code of honor.
‘Code of honor.’
The moment I thought of that phrase, my mother’s note came to mind. The one that said to make a big score at the ducal residence and run.
The note that had made my heart ache, for some reason, because the plan was so identical to my own.
Am I really a person with a code of honor?
I glanced at Eric.
“While we’re in here, people will be looking for us outside.”
Like my mother, Philip, or the Duke.
“Speaking of which, have you worked things out with your family?”
I shook my head. Eric frowned.
“How could they possibly deliver a letter at such a perfect time?”
“That’s what you call the synergy of true villains.”
“What remarkable synergy…”
Eric muttered, then looked at me intently.
“Earlier…”
I swallowed hard.
Did he see the diary and the note?
