Chapter 40
The room attached to the butler’s office had no windows at all, letting in not even a sliver of light. Even after her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could barely make out what was right in front of her nose.
The moment Kaella identified the man who had pressed right up against her and covered her mouth, she nearly screamed without thinking.
“Shh. Quiet.”
The tiny whisper carried an air of absolute authority. Even in the darkness, his deep violet eyes approached with vivid clarity.
Kaella grabbed at his forearm, which was clamped over her mouth. It was Pheon. He hated her.
If he hated her so much, then why had he tried to treat her as the duchess? Because she wasn’t some broken bucket with a loose handle this time? No, because if Kaella disappeared, Beatrice Lavalle would take her firmly established seat as duchess?
Pheon’s hand was so large that it covered not just her mouth but her nose as well. It was the kind of thick, heavy hand that could clearly suffocate her if he pressed down.
Wasn’t this too easy a way to die? Having reached that thought in mere seconds, Kaella struggled to pry his hand away. Fear gripped her, scattering her thoughts into chaos.
“Kaella, Kaella. Shh. We sneaked in here, remember?”
Pheon whispered urgently, emphasizing the word “we.” He deliberately used the familiar tone from their childhood to calm her, but it seemed to have no effect.
Over the hand lightly covering her face, eyes like the cold sky stared at him in terror. Having been through countless battlefields—and even died on one—Pheon could easily recognize fear. And he was all too familiar with the fear directed at him.
But he didn’t want to see that fear in Kaella’s eyes.
“Calm down. I sneaked in too. Sorry.”
“Easy now,” he soothed as he slowly lifted his hand, and a warm, fragile breath rushed out in surprise, then faded away.
He could see her small fingertips, which had been clawing at his forearm, trembling faintly. Kaella clamped her lips shut and clutched the pocket of her dress as she glared at him.
“I scared you. Sorry.”
What had she put in that pocket? In emergencies, untrained people had a habit of unconsciously grabbing a weapon for self-defense or something they couldn’t afford to be caught with.
Especially when they felt threatened. And right now, that’s all he was to Kaella—pure threat. No matter how many times he apologized, she kept clutching her pocket.
“I sneaked in too.”
How had he known and followed her? Kaella pressed herself flat against the wall, unaware that she was breathing heavily. To her, there was only one person she truly feared in all of Lüsenford—the man who ruled it.
Of all people, it had to be him. Her blue eyes shook wildly as they scanned the surroundings. Had he brought knights with him? Was he planning to catch her in the act and frame her as a spy?
“Kaella.”
Pheon bent down hurriedly, even dropping to his knees.
He lowered his large frame, which could seem so intimidating to the tiny woman gripped by fear. Spreading his palms open, he felt a devastating sense of everything he’d stood on crumbling away.
“I must scare you.”
He had the sharpest nose for the scent of fear. Fear directed at him had always brought him victory. The fear of enemies, the fear of castle folk, even the flicker of fear mingled with contempt in the emperor’s eyes—it had always worked to his advantage.
He was as adept at detecting fear as he was at wielding it effectively. In truth, it was a weapon Pheon—with few others at his disposal—couldn’t afford not to use.
But he hadn’t expected to see that fear in Kaella’s eyes. He’d been too complacent. Just like always, he’d been stupidly late this time too, accepting a hell he couldn’t resist as if it were already decreed.
“I just wanted you not to make a sound, but I ended up scaring you. I’m really sorry. Oppa messed up.”
He called himself “oppa” like in their sweet childhood days, earnestly begging her to remember that.
“I won’t do it again. Sorry for scaring you.”
By then, Kaella had finally pulled herself together and touched her lips, nodding. For now, no knights were following them in, and Pheon was dressed lightly enough for bed.
“Aren’t you cold?”
Just a nightgown with a shawl draped over it didn’t seem sufficient. Pheon retreated a little more from her and asked carefully.
But Kaella just shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She was racking her brain on how to handle this situation.
Would he let it slide? Should she ask? If she did, how far would he answer before killing her? For now, she’d wait and see—but that meant facing Pheon, her greatest fear, unprepared.
“No one knows we’re here.”
Pheon murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. He was frightening, and at the same time, unrealistically beautiful even in the pitch black. That only made him scarier.
“Looks like we came to check the same thing.”
He tried to smile softly at Kaella, who could barely speak, whispering gently.
“I came to see this.”
Pheon’s fingertip pointed toward the cabinet Kaella had been about to open. She still said nothing.
Better to hear him out fully than risk fumbling her words and making a mistake. Of course, if he started asking questions, she’d have no choice but to answer.
But instead of questioning her, Pheon pulled out a small key. Kaella didn’t want to react, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening.
The key looked like it would fit perfectly into the cabinet’s lock. Unthinkingly, her gaze followed as Pheon inserted it and turned.
With a click, the cabinet opened. Pheon flung the doors wide and pulled out all the drawers.
“As you know, I didn’t get much education.”
Kaella thought it was laughable. What did he mean he hadn’t learned anything? Even with the empress practically confined, she’d poured everything into educating her one son—a fact Kaella knew better than anyone, having played in the imperial palace alongside him.
Even when Pheon had pleaded to play with Beatrice more, the empress had sent a horde of strict tutors without mercy.
Beatrice and Kaella had often been forced to study together too. Beatrice would tire quickly, feign illness, and sneak away alone, but Kaella had stubbornly stuck by Pheon’s side, happily learning alongside him because she loved being near him.
The subjects Pheon studied back then were incredibly varied. Despite knowing the emperor was watching, the empress had secretly taught him military strategy and politics from an early age, starting with the sword above all.
Sensing they might one day be separated, she’d prepared him thoroughly to stand alone. The breadth and depth of his studies would have overwhelmed most children.
“All I know is how to pick up a sword and fight. Estate management or smooth socializing? Not my expertise.”
True, even a child could only learn so much in a short time. Soon after, he’d been sent straight to Lüsenford, growing up not as a refined noble of Kline, but as a rugged man of Lüsenford.
If he’d been skilled in sophisticated politics, Lüsenford might never have been branded traitorous. No, before that, he wouldn’t have loosely collaborated in the Ostein Duke’s murder and been forced into this absurd marriage with his daughter.
He’d earned merits back then, only to shoulder all the burdens. Even so, hadn’t treating Kaella coldly made him forget about the Ostein Duke?
“So I heard somewhere that important items need to be checked by the master themselves.”
In the inky darkness, Pheon gazed down at the silverware, which stood out even more clearly.
“You’re way smarter than me, so you probably already knew.”
They’d come here for the same reason, but Kaella couldn’t agree that she was smarter than him.
Smarter? How? What part of her was smart—her, who even after learning this man had killed her only family, had still worried about him? She who had to endlessly remind herself of the countless reasons to hate him? She was the foolish, stupid one—not wise or clever.
Hatred wasn’t something that sprang from reasons. It just had to arise. Her failure to summon it made Kaella de Shasser the mad woman obsessed with that man.
“It’s too much to count alone. Will you help me count?”
To be precise, they weren’t just silverware, but all the silver items used in the castle. That included silver trays the butler used for letters or candlesticks.
Every noble house had at least one set as a matter of course, and given their value, the butler polished and stored them securely. They were brought out for esteemed guests at the table.
When she’d sensed something off in the ledgers, Kaella’s thoughts had naturally turned to the silverware.
If the ledgers were suspicious, wouldn’t the silverware management be too? Just counting the visible pieces might catch the butler in neglect—or even embezzlement.
Kaella nodded curtly, lips still pressed tight. She’d planned to count them over several nights anyway. Even basic knives came in four types; there were plenty to tally.
The couple stood before the cabinet and began counting the dessert spoons and forks first.
“Thirty-four spoons.”
Kaella murmured the final fork count in response to his words.
“……Thirty forks.”
They didn’t match already. Better to start with the small items. Kaella confirmed there were nine cake-cutting tools shaped like large combs and fourteen large forks for spearing meat dishes.
There were only five ladles for scooping sauces over food. For massive banquets, fewer of these servant tools would be made, but still, the numbers shouldn’t differ like this.
“What’s this one, Kaella?”
“For pushing cut food.”
“This one…… only seven. Hold on.”
The numbers to remember were piling up. Pheon went back to the butler’s office for paper, pen, and ink. Even in that brief absence, she must have stayed tense—when he returned, Kaella’s sharp, wary gaze followed him.
She was afraid. Of him. She feared him.
“So, how many dessert spoons was it again?”
Pheon asked as casually as possible, all the more desperately. Like the gentle big brother from their distant childhood, which now felt impossibly far away.
“Thirty-four.”
But he knew it was beyond repair, even as he ignored it. Once fear took root, it was hard to uproot. No, nearly impossible.
“Right, thirty-four. Dessert forks, thirty.”
His feigned light tone grated on him. Hurry up, he had to send Kaella away quickly. Far away, to a safe place bathed in warm, golden sunlight like her.
“Nine cake-cutting silver tools.”
The sudden warmth and weight of her nearness, the whispering voice—Pheon’s vision swam. Black ink bloomed thickly from his gripped pen tip.
Was she writing because she saw that? Kaella wondered curiously, but to Pheon, that black smudge stood out starkly. The spreading black of desire, mistake, the stain he’d left on Kaella’s life. A stain clinging to his hands, impossible to wash away easily.
“……Nine.”
Beside him, the already petite woman nodded faintly. A faint floral scent wafted from her loose hair.
The fragrance, preserved in his old memories, crashed over him again. Sometimes it flickered at the edges during battle, forgotten amid the clash of spears and swords, the whistle of blades slicing air, blood spraying—then remembered.
So this was Kaella’s scent. Of course he hadn’t realized when it vanished one day. Pheon had lived oblivious to good things, letting them all slip away. So he had no right to grasp them now that they returned.
Someday, when he found something unrelated to Kaella but to his taste, he’d cherish it properly. He wouldn’t forget or let it go.
He resolved that, but Pheon doubted anything good would come without connection to Kaella. He’d only just realized the most perfect being he knew, and nothing could surpass her.
“Fourteen largest meat forks. Five sauce ladles.”
The quiet, steady voice listing numbers calmly, the prim way she spat just the counts without clear honorifics or casualness, the boldness and wisdom to spot it from a few ledgers and come verify the surest evidence—it was all, entirely, Kaella.
Every trace he’d unknowingly longed for in old memories was her.
He hadn’t even known what he liked or cherished, so he never recognized his own affection—and in ignorance, he’d pushed her away to fall.
Only after losing her did the crushing weight of the void make him writhe in agony. Pheon was already suffocating under it.
“Five…… again?”
“Seven food pushers. Four ice cream knives.”
“Four is way too few.”
A weight to carry forever. Even if his heart shattered in pain, crying out, it was a lenient punishment for the fool who’d committed the irredeemable sin. Pheon tried harder to act calm and normal.
“Do you know what this is?”
“A ladle for picking solids out of soup.”
“And this?”
“All ones like that are for seafood.”
“But there are hardly any like this.”
Kaella’s blue eyes stared straight at him even in the dark. Saying, That’s the problem.
“There should be more originally?”
She nodded emphatically once more. Pheon chuckled softly as he watched her quickly turn back to peer intently into the drawer, even amid this massive shortfall of silverware.
“I see. I didn’t know.”
So much he didn’t know—it shamed him, and made him freshly realize he couldn’t even stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Kaella in this pathetic situation. He was so lacking.
“Let’s stop here for today.”
Why? Kaella looked up at him.
“It’s cold. Night’s deep, and there’s too much to count. Tomorrow won’t work—come the day after, and we’ll do it together.”
The butler would be up late tomorrow. Pheon, lost in thought about what Kaella—who eyed him suspiciously—deemed important, emphasized his guess once more.
“Together. I’ll come get you at night. Your lips are already turning blue. Let’s go.”
He folded the paper, tucked it into his bosom, straightened the cabinet, closed it, and locked it. Erasing traces was Pheon’s specialty. Leaving the office, he took Kaella’s hand and walked the dim corridor.
“I won’t bring this up rashly. The butler has too many outs.”
Her eyes asked why? again. Pheon whispered low enough for only Kaella to hear.
“Lüsenford has that mighty excuse called military funds.”
Ah. Kaella nodded slightly, convinced. Whatever it was, if the butler groveled and claimed it went to military funds, Pheon would have to show some leniency.
“Let’s just get a full grasp first. Our duchess needs to appoint new head maid and butler, so scout successors.”
Could she trust those words? Her doubt-filled eyes looked up at him. Then, inevitably, she answered softly.
“Yes.”
The duke grinned foolishly again. The empty midnight corridor was rather pleasant for a stroll.
