Chapter 34
32
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The gardeners tending the gardens and the servants passing by were all secretly stealing glances at the couple walking through the cloister.
The presence of the young Duke, who had returned after more than a decade, was undeniable, and the woman walking alongside him was equally eye-catching. Rumor had it in the Inner Palace that she was a commoner trying to rise in status based solely on her looks, but seeing her in person, such a description seemed utterly inappropriate.
While the servants were in a state of confusion, they weren't the only ones watching her.
"Can't you loosen up a bit?"
Grace, who had been lost in thought, raised her head at the low voice. Dark eyes met hers before turning forward again.
"Shouldn't you still be the woman loved by the Duke? If others see you with such a cold expression after I supposedly saved you from a life-or-death crisis, what will they think?"
Grace blinked and followed his gaze forward.
Cold? He himself was hardly associated with words like love or affection. Yet, he still held her hand. Her fingers, held in his large, strong hand, looked absurdly small and thin in comparison, like withered twigs.
A woman loved.
As she recalled the phrase she had erased from her life, old, faded afterimages followed. Her mother, whose features she could barely remember now. But the image of her always standing affectionately beside her father remained in her mind like an old painting.
She put strength into her trapped fingers and pulled her hand away. She felt him stop and look down at her.
Ignoring his gaze, Grace took a step closer and linked her arm with his.
"?!"
That single step broke the boundaries of others. A shimmering fragrance lingered at the tip of her nose, and she felt his warmth from their touching bodies.
Grace glanced up at him. His handsome features, shadowed by the backlight, seemed to hold a cynical air. He seemed dumbfounded, perhaps even bewildered.
Well, who would enjoy this?
Grace deliberately smiled brightly and said,
"Do I look like a moved woman now?"
"Ha."
Walter let out a hollow laugh, as if he were dumbfounded. It was a laugh like a sketch drawn roughly with a pen, like his back view. Still, as if he intended to play along, he didn't let his arm hang limply but folded it neatly.
"The scheme is crude. Committing the act in a dark room and then framing someone with circumstantial evidence."
It was a dry, cold voice, in contrast to his slowing his pace to match her steps.
"The maids consistently said one thing."
"What is it?"
"They didn't see anything."
A cold silence fell between them. As they each pondered, they arrived at the room. Grace released his arm and stepped back two paces. The spot where they had touched and warmed quickly cooled.
"The Marquis and his wife probably want to depose Your Grace from the Duke's Castle. But deposing Duke Richmond from Richmond Castle is extremely difficult. Just like now."
Seeing Walter's eyes darken, Grace murmured lightly.
"So, to depose the Duke from the Duke's Castle, well... would it require something like giving the Duchess's room to a traitor?"
Grace unknowingly pulled at her lips and smiled.
"That would be great."
Walter started laughing at those words, and Grace simply blinked. He let out a dry laugh for a long time before slowly running a hand over his face.
"I brought back all five hundred knights alive from the Wall of Death. There was one thing I emphasized repeatedly then."
"..."
"Don't take your lives lightly."
Grace blinked silently. Walter looked down at her with sharp eyes, as if displeased, before finally letting out a small sigh and turning away. He casually tossed his jacket onto a chair and leaned against the window, having undone a few buttons on his shirt.
"I brought you here because I thought you would be my sharpest sword. Don't even think about disappearing like bait."
"You seem to have forgotten what I said. I repeatedly said that I would get Taylor back no matter what."
Walter suddenly wondered about the taste of the tobacco his men used to smoke.
"Anyway, what happened with the Grand Duchess?"
"She didn't wake up."
Eliza Richmond, who displayed a dignity that even the heavily adorned noblewomen on the verge of death could not imitate. She was not an expendable existence, but a person absolutely necessary for the future.
"There are two things needed to wake her up. One is a clear purpose for her to wake up, and the other is to awaken the emotions that have become so dry that she wouldn't care even if all her limbs were cut off..."
As she spoke, a flash of lightning struck her mind.
Grace's retina imprinted the image of Walter leaning against the window. He seemed to disregard etiquette, but it felt so natural. He was the one who set the standards, not the one who followed them. Just like his ancestors.
In the Dekan history books, in the Emperor's section, there is this record:
_[The emperors of the past generally put into action what they decided the night before by the next day.]_
He is very impatient,
_[He applies high and strict standards to everything,]_
He is difficult to please,
_[He did not hesitate to speak frankly to anyone.]_
He often gets angry at anyone.
The person who inherited that blood was right in front of her.
"Why are you stopping mid-sentence?"
"...I think Your Grace can do it."
Walter's eyes narrowed.
"I'd appreciate it if you could explain in a way I can understand."
"You told me to set it on fire inside, didn't you?"
Grace's voice unusually rose.
"As you said, I went into her bedroom without asking for permission, but that wasn't enough."
Walter's brow furrowed at the encroaching ominous premonition. If Joseph had seen it, he would have quickly backed down, but Grace was even more certain of her answer.
"To rouse the Grand Duchess, you need anger and a clear purpose. I think Your Grace can solve both of those, not me."
But Walter coldly retorted,
"I've been checking for ten years. I even went to see her as soon as I arrived."
"..."
"If you can't wake her up, give up. If she was going to wake up now, she wouldn't have been dying in the first place."
Grace stared at Walter, who was speaking particularly coldly, before opening her mouth.
"I've been thinking."
"About what."
"Why is she still alive, looking like she wants to die right now? She could have died anytime."
"..."
"Could it be that the Grand Duchess has been waiting for Your Grace?"
Grace recalled the werewolf she had encountered in the mountains. She felt the precarious stillness just before the attack from Walter. Her heart pounded with instinctive fear. But just like then, she couldn't back down.
"Please come with me and meet the Grand Duchess."
Walter slowly let out a deep, long sigh.
"I told you, I went yesterday."
"Is once enough? Go again."
"I can say with certainty that it will only backfire."
"Backfire?"
She didn't have the confidence to tell her to wake up nicely. Just imagining her dying appearance made her angry, so she would definitely say something harsh.
"She'll lock the door completely."
"So, that means you're confident you can make her angry enough to get up, right?"
"She's going to get up to lock the door, can't you understand that?!"
"Even if she's going to lock the door, she has to get up first. The very fact that the Grand Duchess gets up is important. She doesn't even try to talk to anyone right now."
It was the moment Walter was about to argue, seeing her stubbornly green eyes.
Knock knock!
Behind Joseph, who appeared with a knock, was a middle-aged gentleman with a flushed face. The sturdy young man had a very bright expression, in contrast to the gentleman's expression.
"Your Grace, as you requested, I have brought the head of security for the castle!"
Indeed, it was a quick move worthy of the impatient master's right-hand man. Grace internally thanked Joseph for appearing at the right time and quickly wrapped up the conversation.
"Then I'll be waiting for you to finish your conversation, Your Grace."
Walter stared at Grace, who bowed lightly and walked away, as if he were dumbfounded. At the same time as the absurd thought that the blonde hair swaying from her waist looked like a fox's tail, he pictured Grace and Eliza standing in the same frame.
Grace Taylor with her blonde hair flowing down and Eliza Richmond with her silver-white hair twisted up.
Could that picture really be possible?
Walter frowned and let out a short sigh.
