Chapter 43
41
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“Ares Dekan……”
“I’m here.”
Walking the path with the name of the dead upon him, he was alive yet dead, dead yet alive. To everyone, and even to himself.
Except for one person, Grace Taylor.
She recognized his existence precisely, even in moments he was unaware of. By her calling his name, the ambiguous life that was neither alive nor dead became clear.
“Ares……”
Grace’s faint call slowly melted away the name of Walter that firmly covered Ares. As that painful name, covered in terrible guilt and scars, slowly melted from his soul, the name that had been cowering for a long time was revealed.
“Ares.”
Do you know,
What your call means to me?
Ares buried his face in her shoulder and replied.
“I’m beside you.”
Ares constantly soothed her, sharing his warmth.
“Grace. Grace Taylor.”
And he called her name, which felt elegant yet sharp. Until Grace’s trembling subsided.
＊ ＊ ＊
Some called Duke Richmond’s castle ‘Blue Eagle Castle’. This was partly because the eagle was the symbol of Richmond, but to clarify the more precise origin, it was due to the blue eagle emblem and chandelier decorations hanging in the Main Castle's hall.
The huge eagle emblem used during the time of the first Duke still hung directly behind the Duke’s chair, boasting its majesty.
The hall, painstakingly created by the first Duke Richmond, was a legacy and a treasure in itself. The twelve ivory pillars supporting the dome ceiling of the hall were impressive, but even more eye-catching were the numerous chandeliers.
Among them, the most overwhelming was the chandelier hanging from the very center of the hall’s ceiling, decorated with a whopping 2,000 crystals and a thousand sapphires. At the top of the chandelier was a sapphire sculpture in the shape of a flying eagle.
The hall was usually opened for important events or banquets, and most recently, the Marchioness’s birthday party was held in this hall. On the day of the birthday party, the hall’s splendor was beyond words.
But tomorrow, the hall was to be used for a slightly different reason.
The Marchioness, saying that the hall had to be decorated to suit the purpose, personally inspected every nook and cranny of the hall for two days.
“Remove all the decorations.”
She removed not only all the splendid decorations prepared for her birthday party, but also the time-honored porcelains and vases as old as the hall’s history. And all the blue velvet tapestries that had been stretched out and decorated on the walls were replaced with black tapestries. The position of the chandeliers was adjusted very high so that it felt as if there were no chandeliers, and the chairs for the heads of each family to sit on were also prepared in black.
The atmosphere of the hall changed as easily as flipping a hand.
“It’s just like a funeral parlor. As expected of you, amazing.”
Marquis Rinko, who had come to look around the hall late at night, chuckled and praised his wife.
“It’s a place where Duke Richmond’s political life ends, how could I decorate it splendidly?”
“Hehe, that would have been worth seeing too.”
The smile gradually disappeared from the Marquis’s face as he stroked his chin and laughed. He stared intently at the Duke’s chair on the platform, then walked towards it as if possessed.
Thump, thump, the sound of climbing the stairs felt like thunder. And the moment he sat in that huge chair, he felt a thrill spreading from head to toe, as if his blood was boiling.
“Tomorrow. It’s tomorrow.”
Although he couldn’t kill that bastard before coming to the Duke's castle, if he completely cut off that bastard’s political life tomorrow, everything would flow as it should.
＊ ＊ ＊
And so, the next day.
Marquis Rinko woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t had any unlucky dreams last night, and he didn’t have the joint pain that he always suffered from.
“What’s the Duke doing?”
“He hasn’t stepped out of his room.”
“He’s no different from my grandmother. Then, is that senile old man still sleeping?”
“Yes. The Grand Duchess also has no movements.”
“Good, good. Everything is good.”
He enjoyed his leisure all morning, and only when the Grand Council was imminent did he put on a black suit and leave his room.
“Has the Duke arrived?”
“That is… he is said to have arrived first.”
“First? He must have been quite impatient.”
“Well… yes.”
The servant’s tone was suspicious, but the Marquis simply laughed because he was in a good mood. Then, as he entered the hallway leading to the hall, his smile gradually disappeared.
Was it because it was decorated like a funeral parlor? Usually, even small noises would leak out into the hallway through the open doors, but it was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. There was an inexplicable sense of tension beyond solemnity.
The Marquis stopped abruptly and asked.
“Is everyone here now?”
“Yes, Marquis.”
Feeling inexplicably bad, the Marquis deliberately cleared his throat loudly before moving his feet.
The owner is supposed to appear last. All the owners he had seen were like that. They always arrived last, appearing while receiving everyone’s attention. So he straightened his shoulders and slightly raised his head, walking as if he were the owner. Then, when he arrived in front of the open door, the moment he turned his body towards the hall, the Marquis was swallowed up without even realizing he was being swallowed.
Neither the overwhelmingly large space nor the large blue eagle emblem could catch his eye.
Black suited him well. No, it was as if black existed for him. All the decorations that were meant to make it look like a funeral parlor were assimilated into the Duke’s atmosphere, making it look like the judgment seat of hell.
What is it, this strange sense of déjà vu that I feel like I’ve seen somewhere before.
At that moment, the Duke, who was leaning back casually in the huge chair with his long legs crossed, slowly uncrossed his legs and leaned his upper body forward. The fragmented sunlight painted over his face. The moment his face, which had been submerged in darkness, was revealed, the Marquis vaguely thought of a black tiger, and at the same time, he realized the identity of the déjà vu.
The blood drained from his face.
About twenty years ago, the day he went to the Imperial Palace with the previous Duke. The Marquis was overwhelmed by the solemn hall decorated in pitch black. Beneath the black tiger emblem, which was larger than the blue eagle emblem, a man who seemed to personify the tiger in the emblem looked at them and smiled.
‘You’re late, Duke Richmond.’
‘I apologize, Your Majesty. But why do you always come so early? Isn’t the owner supposed to come after the guests have entered?’
‘Because there’s a lot to see, like who comes when, who they come with, and what expressions they have.’
The Emperor’s appearance came to mind vividly, as if it were yesterday, and the Duke smiled with the exact same face as him.
“You’re late, Marquis Rinko.”
Cold sweat ran down the Marquis’s back.
