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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Rachel's Scheme (2)
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A small, black object dropped with a thud. I thought it was one of the mice that frequented the dungeon, but it was a little too big for a mouse and utterly still.
I stared at the black mass by my foot for a moment before cautiously picking it up.
It was a leather waterskin. It felt quite heavy, as if full of water.
“Hunger can be endured, but thirst is a different beast.”
At the low voice from beyond the bars, Ariana straightened. A large, dark figure loomed in the shadows outside her cell.
“It seems your business at Bronte Manor never truly concludes.”
“Are you implying you thought I’d be gone once my business was concluded, and wondering why I’m still lingering?”
Instead of answering, Ariana looked down at the leather waterskin.
With a click, a lantern was lit, revealing Cyrus, dressed as he had been yesterday.
Though it was already their fourth encounter, she still couldn't grow accustomed to his excessively beautiful face. Could that truly be a human face?
She didn't want to accept Cyrus's inexplicable kindness, but her thirst was too severe to refuse. Tearing her gaze from his face, she looked down at the waterskin again. That's when Cyrus spoke.
“Rest assured, I am not so petty as to consider a few sips of water a great act of benevolence.”
“Your Highness, why do you extend such kindness to me?”
“To speak of kindness for mere sips of water... your life must truly be a harsh one.”
His calm voice settled in Ariana's chest.
Unlike his cold gaze and cool demeanor, his few words were surprisingly warm.
Her heart almost wavered at the thought that someone recognized this harsh life, a life where a few sips of water were considered an excessive kindness, a life that no one else acknowledged.
At that moment, the Third Prince, Harold Blenwith, came to mind.
His gentle gaze and kind smile directed at Ariana, the warm touch that caressed her cheek, the sweet, honeyed words that flowed from his lips.
“It must have been so difficult, Ariana. Why does no one appreciate how clever and beautiful you are?”
“Ariana, I need you. Only you can help me.”
“How could I have come this far without you? I’m truly fortunate to have you.”
All of it was a lie.
She learned too late that words could fabricate anything, even emotions.
Ariana, who had yearned for others' affection, had believed the Third Prince's gentle words without question—and that had been her undoing.
Now that she thought about it, the Third Prince had merely spun gentle words, yet had done nothing for Ariana. He had used his honeyed words to push her into a death trap.
Her heart, which had almost softened, hardened into ice once more.
Ariana pushed the waterskin towards the bars.
“It would be better to bestow such kindness upon a woman who desires it. Surely there’s a lady in this very manor who craves Your Highness’s favor.”
“Ah, are you referring to the woman who hung my portrait?”
“Since you already know, all that’s left is to bestow your kindness. She is the most cherished lady of the Bronte Ducal House. There’s nowhere in Seoryeong she can’t go, nothing she can’t say, so she would surely be of great help to the Northern Duke.”
“Hmm. I suppose I could find out where she acquired my portrait.”
“What would you use that information for?”
“To kill the one who painted it, the one who sold it, the one who bought it, and the one who admired it.”
Though the words were spoken as if in jest, she sensed their sincerity, and a chill ran down her spine.
Because Cyrus had been conversing with her like an ordinary man, she had momentarily forgotten the chilling rumors that surrounded him.
Ariana softly lowered her head.
“I heard a peddler from the North has arrived in the East Quarter. They say he’s secretly selling portraits of the Northern Duke. Go and buy the largest, most well-drawn one. I simply must see how handsome he is.”
A month ago, an overly excited Helena had called Ariana and commanded her.
The East Quarter was a dangerous place, inhabited by the poorest of the lower classes, a haunt for thieves and kidnappers.
Helena couldn't send her own ladies-in-waiting or maids to a place a respectable noble lady wouldn't even deign to pass through, so she sent Ariana.
Ariana had no choice but to wrap an old blanket around her head like a hood and head towards the East Quarter. It was terrifying, but she was more afraid of being flogged and imprisoned for disobeying Helena's command.
Trembling, Ariana walked that dangerous street—a perilous journey for a girl without a single weapon—found the peddler, and safely purchased the Northern Duke's portrait.
More terrifying than the gazes of the impoverished folk directed at Ariana, who had walked those streets alone without fear, was Cyrus's gaze, declaring he would kill even the one who bought the portrait.
‘Surely he doesn't know *I* was the one who bought it?’
Ariana bit her lower lip firmly.
“You’ve suddenly grown quiet.”
His voice startled her, but Ariana calmly replied.
“I tend to be quiet. I’ve heard Your Highness, the Northern Duke, is also a man of few words.”
“Does that mean you wish me to shut up and leave?”
“Since the intelligent Northern Duke keeps misinterpreting my words and questioning me, I’m at a loss for how to respond.”
“If it’s not a misinterpretation, then can I take everything you’ve said to me until now at face value?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“Even that women’s hearts beat endlessly when they see me?”
“Of course.”
“Does your heart beat that way too?”
“Of course.”
Cyrus bent down, meeting Ariana's gaze.
“You are truly terrible at lying. When you claim your heart is racing, it would be beneficial if you at least managed a corresponding expression.”
“I simply haven’t been raised as a proper lady, so I cannot produce the appropriate expression. My heart is certainly beating.”
“Because if your heart doesn’t beat, you die?”
For a moment, Ariana found herself smiling, quite unbidden. It was surprising that Cyrus remembered the frivolous words she had spoken.
Cyrus silently observed the faint smile spreading across Ariana’s face. The smile that had appeared without a sound vanished just as silently.
“A man, to behold a woman’s smile, might even draw his sword and sever his own ear.”
“Does Your Highness do such a thing?”
“Perhaps.”
Cyrus straightened up.
His handsome face, framed by shimmering silver hair, instantly transformed into that of an arrogant monarch. His crimson eyes, beneath dark, ash-grey brows, pierced Ariana with their gaze.
“But I can tell your smile will become your weapon.”
“My weapon?”
“If you can wield your smile with complete mastery, you could conquer the world.”
“Like Your Highness?”
A smile spread across Cyrus’s lips. It was a subtle and beautiful smile, like moonlight.
“You learn quickly. But I haven’t conquered the world yet.”
Cyrus vanished without a word, as always.
Ariana, suppressing a sigh, discovered a small package lying where Cyrus had stood. She reached through the bars and picked it up.
Inside the package were two loaves of bread, a slice of ham, and a chunk of cheese.
‘Surely he didn’t bring this for himself and merely forgot it?’
He had probably brought it for Ariana.
Cyrus had claimed he wouldn’t care how many days Ariana remained imprisoned here. Yet, he had brought not only drinking water but also food to fill her stomach.
Although she was hungry, she couldn't bring herself to touch it easily.
The bread, ham, and cheese made her even hungrier, for she knew their taste, but his intentions felt suspicious.
‘He wouldn’t extend kindness without a reason.’
Everyone who had ever shown Ariana favor had harbored ulterior motives.
‘He must be being kind because he wants something from me.’
She had never encountered him before her death, but she had heard countless rumors about him. Even women renowned for their beauty or their sharp minds were merely used by him, never gaining an ounce of his true affection.
‘But there’s nothing he could gain from me.’
If he had approached her after she’d left Seoryeong and found refuge with the Eastern Duke, after she had ascended to the position of Eastern Princess, she would have assumed he was being kind to exploit her.
But now was too early.
A pitiful second daughter, trapped in the ducal mansion, unable to do anything she wished, not even permitted to walk in the garden. A troublesome girl who was beaten and imprisoned for speaking her mind at a party.
Cyrus must have observed her during this time; he would know Ariana’s predicament. So why was he bestowing such kindness?
‘Surely he hasn’t noticed I intend to leave for the East? But how? Did I give it away without even realizing?’
No. Ariana was careful even when she was alone.
‘Whatever his intention for showing kindness, it couldn’t be good for me.’
Ariana pushed the package and waterskin he had brought into a corner of the cell.
Seeing the food, the hunger she had forgotten surged, and seeing the water, her thirst intensified, but she resolved not to touch anything he had brought.
+++
Only after confirming that Ariana had not touched the package or the waterskin did Cyrus leave the dungeon.
His movements, concealed by stealth and utterly silent, ensured that the soldiers guarding the East Tower remained entirely oblivious to his presence.
Inside the dark East Tower, the maids' weeping was ceaseless. Their reactions were perfectly normal.
A place filled with the stench of decay and the aura of death. Yet, in such a place, Ariana showed no sign of agitation whatsoever.
Even if she was accustomed to confinement, being locked in a room was vastly different from being locked in the East Tower.
The fact that no water had been brought since last night implied she could be left to die in there, yet she maintained such composure. He wondered how.
As he entered the forest bordering the Bronte Ducal Estate, two figures emerged from the shadows of the trees, blocking Cyrus's path. One was a woman with bobbed red hair, whose downward-sloping eyes gave her a benevolent look, and the other a black-haired man with a charming, almost endearing demeanor.
The black-haired man spoke.
“My Lord.”
“Did you confirm?”
“Yes, the capital nobles departed in haste this morning, and other nobles left around the same time. A few remain, but there’s no indication they’re attempting to meet with the Western Duke separately.”
The two were Louie, the captain of Cyrus’s Black Knights, and Noah, the vice-captain.
Noah continued.
“Seeing that the Western Duke also paid little attention to this party, it truly seems it was merely arranged to lay the groundwork for the First Daughter’s debutante.”
“Indeed.”
“Oh, and Lord Isaac said he was bored, so he’s holed up in his room drinking.”
“You needn’t report on that fellow’s every move.”
Louie and Noah, who should have vanished after delivering their report, were looking at Cyrus with suspicious eyes. Cyrus narrowed his brows slightly and asked,
“Is there anything else to report?”
“When do we return to the Northern Domain?”
“Not yet.”
Noah subtly nudged Louie with his eyes. It seemed he wanted Louie to speak next, but Louie’s tightly pressed lips showed no intention of opening.
Finally, Noah asked, as if resigned.
“Is it perhaps because of the Bronte’s second daughter?”
