Chapter 35
Daniel's heavy baritone echoed once more through the grand library with its two-story-high ceiling.
"Frida."
The anxious voice rising from his diaphragm clashed against the walls, splintering and crumbling before fading swiftly. In the spot where the sound vanished, Daniel unconsciously held his breath upon encountering the musky scent and faint light. As far as he could remember, the fireplace—which had never once been lit—burned now. A feeble flame crackled, as if it might extinguish at any moment. Only upon spotting the small figure nestled at the edge of the space illuminated by the fire did he realize how tense he'd been at the thought of not finding her. His legs weakened the instant he discovered Frida, that utterly reckless bundle of trouble, asleep with her head awkwardly tilted against the wall. Propping himself against the wall with a hand, Daniel exhaled the deep breath he'd been holding.
"Haa...."
He couldn't recall how long it had been since his limbs had tensed like this. Had his head gone slack too? With the dam he'd held back bursting open, a memory escaped his mind. The memory from the year he turned fourteen, when he could no longer call for his mother.
"Hah."
Suddenly, Daniel let out a scoff. The image of that child he'd believed to be an angel came to mind. She had huddled with her ice-white hair cascading over her pure white clothes like a snowy mountain. That day, he'd realized anew how frail a desperate human could become. To still innocently believe in angels after all that chaos. But... he'd wanted so badly to believe. That God had sent him not a fake like Duchess Margret, but a real angel. If she truly was an angel, she might grant his wish. Clinging to that hope, he'd approached step by step.
"...Hestia. Waaah. Hestia unnie...."
Fortunately, the hope shattered quickly. He'd realized right away. The child sobbing with heaving shoulders before his eyes was no angel—more like a rabbit. An angel wouldn't wail in such a mess.
"Tch."
Kicking a stone in his path hard, Daniel clicked his tongue in irritation.
'Angel my ass. As if such a thing exists—falling for it every time. You idiot.'
He could almost hear Dominic's mocking snicker over his shoulder. The sobbing child turned at the sound of the stone rolling into the bushes. Her pale face smeared with tears and snot, eyes puffy and bloodshot. Up close, she looked exactly like a teary rabbit. The little girl kept sniffling at the unfamiliar Daniel without startling.
"Waaah, Hestia unnie's gone. Waaah."
What, was this lucky miss playing hide-and-seek or something?
"Just ask the grown-ups to find her."
If pressed for why he'd replied despite the annoyance, well. Perhaps the childishly lisping sobs, constantly sniffling back thick mucus, tugged at him.
"Waaah. Unnie went to heaven. She won't come see Frida anymore. Waaah."
"...."
Heaven.... He had someone there too. A cherished family member he'd never see again.
'Daniel, everyone dies someday. Mommy's just going to heaven a little early to wait for you. So don't be sad, my son.'
His mother... had smiled. Before the Duchess who threatened to hang him with chilling ferocity, she'd smiled beautifully and elegantly before her cowardly son who couldn't cry or grieve in fear.
'Remember this, Daniel. Never resent anyone for this. Especially not yourself. Mommy's just doing what she must. You're a child, and Mommy's an adult—so it's right for the adult Mommy to protect you. Right?'
Even dying in place of her spoiled son who threw tantrums wishing the Duchess were his mother, she'd worried for Daniel.
'Survive, Daniel. Being alive is what matters. No matter what moment comes, just hold on to your life.'
After that, whenever his mother's voice came to mind, he'd swung his sword madly. Desperately, so the blade wouldn't turn toward himself or that hypocritical woman.
'Damn it.'
Reaching habitually for the sheathed sword at his waist, Daniel hesitated and clenched his fist tight. He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't cause an incident drawing it here. If that scrawny kid fainted seeing him rampage like a madman, it'd just get more troublesome. Instead of gripping the hilt, Daniel roughly raked his sweat-damp hair.
"Stop crying. The dead won't come back no matter how much you wail."
"Waaah... She really won't come? Can't see Hestia unnie ever again?"
"No. Are you stupid? How do you see the dead? Unless you die and meet her."
"Waaah.... Uwaaang...."
"If you're brave, go ahead and die."
He hoped the last words, muttered lowly, didn't reach the child's ears amid her sobs. Venting his anger on an innocent kid—what a pathetic loser. She was too good for a dimwit like him.
"Frida, where are you? Frida!"
An urgent voice calling from beyond the bushes rang out. The child toddled sobbing toward the sound. That's when he'd learned her name was 'Frida.' Years later, he'd discovered the scrawny kid from the woods was a true noble with the middle name 'Cloud,' unlike him. It was about a year before Leopold became emperor. Amid the winding down of battles, news arrived that the second daughter of House Harkbon had died.
"A family once revered as saints—how did it come to this? Tsk tsk."
"They have another daughter, don't they?"
"What good is that? That young lady's all white—hair and skin. She'll be dead in a few years too. What was her name? Ah, Frida Cloud Harkbon."
He'd overheard Dominic—who knew everything happening in the empire—chattering with the mercenaries.
'Frida... Cloud Harkbon.'
Scoffing that it was a grandiose name for such a tiny rabbit-like child, he'd forgotten it. After that, Daniel became Duke Rihardt and officially entered the peerage. For slaying countless in battles and extinguishing numerous houses to seat Leopold on the throne, the name he'd earned was 'Daniel Johannes Rihardt.' Between the Daniel his mother gave and the Rihardt from his father sat the middle name bestowed personally by the emperor. Even after recognition as a noble, his life flowed similarly. He lived fiercely to cling to life as his mother urged, rarely recalling that white child. Not until Dominic arrived with the emperor-sealed letter bearing that name again.
"Marry the daughter of House Harkbon? Does that old fox the Dowager Empress think we're fools? Who doesn't know their daughters die young? Nobles can't marry without imperial permission, but if the Harkbon lady dies childless, our lord will die alone with no heirs for all this wealth."
Even as Dominic and Ricardo fumed, Daniel kept his mouth shut. Die or not—what difference did it make, quick or slow, alone or not? He'd stayed silent, uninterested in the noisy father-son duo, but it hadn't left him unaffected. He'd pitied the child born with such a short life, entangled with a headache like him.
"Mm...."
Perhaps uncomfortable, Frida stirred her head in sleep. The unwelcome old memories flooding Daniel vanished as swiftly as they'd come.
"Hoo...."
Sorting his tangled mind with a long breath, he walked quietly to the fireplace. Kneeling on the floor, Daniel stared blankly at Frida asleep in that odd position. Her head against the wall swayed slowly like a willow branch in the breeze. Up close, she seemed a bit grown compared to a month ago. When had this tiny, fluffy thing—confusing angel or white rabbit—gotten so big? It was miraculous her slender neck supported that little body without snapping. Thinking to at least ease her head, Daniel reached for her neck, ready to tilt again. At that moment, Frida's cheek 'thudded' onto his rough, broad palm.
Missing the moment to withdraw, as Daniel hesitated, Frida slowly lifted her eyelids. Blink... blink. Blink... blink. Her unfocused purple eyes stared at him, fluttering weakly open and shut a couple times. Still heavy with sleep, her gaze narrowed drowsily before her closed lips parted.
"Hungry...."
*** Pacing the brightly lit front yard of Marian Hall, Muriel suddenly darted into the darkness. But she soon trudged back. Dashing out and returning repeatedly. Finally unable to bear it, Dominic yelled from the steps where he sat.
"Hey, stop making me anxious and just stay put!"
Ignoring him completely, Muriel vanished into the dark once more and reappeared. Finally shaking off his rear and rising, he approached her. Watching her clenched fists fidget restlessly, Dominic shook his head.
"Why so fidgety? The Duchess can't even ride, so wherever she vanished, she's still in the castle grounds."
Not tearing her sharp gaze from the darkness, Muriel's face puffed in anger.
"Who said that's why? The sun's set. The sun. Our lady can't see well once it gets dark."
"Exactly, so you should've guarded her better instead of—"
Facing Muriel's icy gray glare, Dominic slyly turned away, mumbling.
"What I'm saying is, with you constantly grounding her and such, she couldn't stand it and bolted."
"You should've shown up on time for your appointment with her, Dominic. She went looking for you because you didn't appear."
Hours of searching without finding Frida, Muriel blamed and grilled him, saying it was all his fault.
"You know our lady values trust above all. Have you ever seen her miss a date for advance or final payments?"
Dominic mumbled, still avoiding her eyes.
"...No."
"Someone who knows that pulls this? That's why this mess. Knowing her impatient nature, you should've taken initiative."
Tell her to ease up on overworking the frail lady if you have any shame. As Muriel grumbled loud enough to be heard, her ire turned to Duke Rihardt.
"Just how much money did His Grace stash away? With him flaunting it exists, isn't that why the lady's rampaging like this?"
"That's unfair blame. Think we don't miss that money?"
Dominic finally met Muriel's eyes. Seizing the chance to retort, he even crossed his arms firmly.
"Do you know how we gathered it? Sneaking it past prying eyes wasn't easy. And having gold doesn't mean you mint endless coins. Just building ties with Bulenchi Bank cost tens of thousands of gold coins...."
"Dominic, you... knew too?"
'Oops!'
Seeing Muriel's face chill, Dominic slyly uncrossed his arms. Realizing he'd blabbed too much, but far too late. Muriel leaned right into his face as he backed away.
"So you've known about that vault all along? Dominic Molly."
Clearly a step back, yet somehow closer to Muriel. A pair of gray eyes as terrifying as Daniel's red ones earlier pierced him.
"Knew and watched our lady sell every earring pair, every shoe."
"Th-that's...."
As Dominic planned his escape, Muriel gripped his shoulder roughly.
"You bastard. You're dead by my hand today."
