The dining table was lavishly decorated with candles and dishes, while the maids swiftly cleared away the fallen petals and paper flowers before exiting in unison.
As Maid Maria left, she whispered to Lilien that the party atmosphere absolutely did not allow for the pointy hat hidden under the table to be taken out. Lilien couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“This way.”
For some reason, Edmund, who had been quietly watching from behind, naturally led me toward the dining table.
“Just a moment.”
I watched the last maid leave, then turned toward the door. Curious gazes followed me, but just like the light spilling into the hallway, I wanted to bring this blurred boundary to a close myself.
“I’ll close it.”
The maid glanced at me with a puzzled expression but stepped back without a word.
Standing at the doorway, I looked down the corridor where a thin beam of light stretched. That was where I had once stood as a child. Where I had stood just yesterday.
‘I won’t stand here anymore.’
The lingering weight of the past melted away like the last traces of snow, allowing new buds to sprout like the arrival of spring.
A slight ache pressed against my chest as I bid farewell to my past.
“Etricia! Come quickly!”
When I turned around, Lilien was waving with a bright smile. Beside her stood Edmund, expressionless but visibly softer than usual. He was clutching my bloodstained handkerchief tightly in his hand.
These two people—my family.
A warm feeling spread deep within my chest.
“Yes, I’m coming.”
Before I realized it, my voice carried a hint of laughter.
I took one last glance at the dimly lit corridor, then firmly shut the door. The loud bang that sealed the boundary between me and the past felt oddly satisfying.
Edmund stepped out of the softly glowing banquet hall and walked down the long, straight corridor. Through the slowly closing door, Etricia’s radiant laughter spilled out.
Her refreshing smile surfaced in his mind involuntarily.
Etricia had slightly trembled, her full lower lip quivering as her eyes turned red before she finally beamed—like a flower in full bloom, beautiful beyond words.
In that moment, he had no choice but to watch powerlessly from among the other servants. It felt like a gentle breeze had stirred his heart, and a faint smile unknowingly formed on his lips.
But it was fleeting. His expression soon hardened into cold steel.
Edmund strode down the corridor. His quick steps caused the flames of the oil lamps on the walls to flicker momentarily.
“Tale.”
From the darkness, Tale emerged and fell into step behind him.
“I found a maid who showed suspicious movements at the Duke’s estate ten years ago, but she has already passed away. Her mother, however, is bedridden due to illness. According to nearby residents, she was very close to her daughter.”
Rail glanced at Edmund, gauging his reaction.
“Should I investigate further?”
Edmund stopped walking. He exhaled deeply, lowering his gaze as his expression darkened.
Even with the authority of a Duke, this was all he could uncover?
He had yet to find the monster responsible for his enemy’s death—let alone the cause behind its emergence.
Times like these made his mind feel hazy. His vague yet relentless resolve to track down his foe felt like it was tightening around his own throat. Like a spear thrown at his enemy, only to have it boomerang back and stab him in the chest.
Chasing something intangible often left him swallowing his frustration and loss. But giving up was never an option.
Slowly, Edmund opened his eyes, steadying his turbulent thoughts. A chilling gleam flashed in his otherwise clouded gaze.
“Assign the best medical team to her. Ensure her condition improves. Once she wakes up, she should be able to move her tongue at least.”
“Understood.”
Tale bowed and quietly vanished into the darkness. Edmund, suppressing his irritation, reached his office.
Just as he was about to grasp the doorknob, his gaze fell to his own hand.
A pristine white handkerchief was wrapped tightly around it. Beneath it, years of battle had left hardened calluses and deep scars.
‘I plan to leave this mansion soon.’
At those words, his heart had dropped.
A wave of inexplicable shock had followed, along with the immediate, overwhelming urge to stop her.
At the same time, he was confused. Why? He no longer had a reason to keep her here. She was no longer a threat, so there was no need to monitor her.
But before he could even seek an answer, Etricia had kept pushing for her departure, as if testing him.
In truth, he already knew the reason. The day before, Etricia had locked herself in her room. Lilien had merely remarked that it made banquet preparations easier, but Edmund sensed something was off. She had discovered the Guild Master’s disappearance, and it had shaken her.
Still, he expected her to approach him with her usual sly smile. Then, before the banquet, he planned to tell her everything was forgiven and reassure her that eliminating the Guild Master had been for her safety.
But he never expected her to say she was leaving.
As always, she masked her true feelings with a composed smile, speaking only in rational terms—like someone afraid of exposing their heart.
As if she expected him to be deceived yet again, just like before.
Her sorrowful smile and trembling, uncertain gaze had irritated him so much that he lashed out.
‘Are you planning to cry alone again?’
Because he knew her too well—knew she always said she was fine, even when she wasn’t.
Edmund looked down at his palm with heavy eyes.
A short, bitter laugh escaped between his lips.
If reassuring her meant keeping her here, he would make any vow necessary. He was certain now—he was no longer a threat to her.
And as a result, Etricia had chosen to stay.
‘Why do I want to hold on to her so badly?’
One thing was clear: he didn’t want to let her go.
He exhaled deeply and stepped into his office, only to find Rail arriving late.
“Master, the banquet hall is being cleaned up. It seems like the two of you were deep in conversation. I suppose you’ll be spending the night together—”
Rail trailed off, eyes landing on Edmund’s hand.
“Master, your hand…”
Ignoring him, Edmund entered the office. Rail followed, his expression turning concerned as he watched Edmund sit at his desk.
“Shall I call a doctor?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“But the wound could worsen.”
At that moment, Rail recalled something and rubbed his forehead. After Edmund left the banquet, Etricia had called him aside and insisted he check on his master’s condition. So this was why.
Rail sighed deeply, then his eyes widened as a thought struck him.
A bad feeling crept over him. No one in this mansion would dare harm their master. It wasn’t Count Buell either.
“Did you do this to yourself?”
“Yes.”
Edmund casually flipped through a document.
Rail shut his eyes tightly.
“Oh, Count Buell must have been terrified. Women fear things like that so much.”
The hand turning the pages stiffened slightly.
Edmund’s gaze turned sharp as he looked at Rail.
“Fear it?”
Rail nodded matter-of-factly.
“Of course. Especially Count Buell.”
Edmund knew what he meant—it was a sign of past abuse.
He frowned, rubbing his temple. Now that he thought about it, when he had cut his hand to seal the vow, Etricia had frozen.
Even tying his wound, she had wrapped it three times to ensure it wouldn’t come undone.
“You should get it treated, Master.”
Edmund, who had been lost in a quiet and sorrowful mood, quickly returned to his usual sharp expression. His displeased eyes, looking up at Rail, clearly said, “Why should I listen to you?”
Rail, unaware of that gaze, let out a deep sigh and spoke.
“Count Buell was so worried, he held onto me and told me to watch over your health closely.”
“…”
“If a scar is left on your hand—”
“Call.”
“Pardon?”
“The doctor. Call the doctor.”
Edmund turned his eyes back to the documents. The sharp look in his eyes softened as they dropped to the papers in front of him.
Rail looked at his master with wide eyes, then suddenly realized it—like an arrow striking the back of his head.
So that’s what the strange feeling and subtle changes in his master had been.
Rail’s lips twitched.
He had unknowingly been harassed by Baron Montree. The baron had ordered him to arrange “accidental” meetings to help find a match for his master. When Rail refused—afraid of Edmund’s cold stare—the baron urged him to do something, with anyone.
“If you leave him alone, your master will rot away alone for life.”
It had been an awkward position for Rail. And he had worried, secretly hoping someone would come along to touch his master’s heart.
He didn’t even see that beautiful Western princess as a woman, so who in the world…
But then—
Ah. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.
Desperately holding it back, Rail clenched his teeth and spoke in a stiff voice.
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
With that, Rail quickly left the office. Once outside, he leaned against the door and covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh.
“Miss Lilien, Baron Montree… your wish has come true. Your efforts have finally shone through.”
They’d both probably faint from joy if they knew. But Rail decided to wait. He knew his master would definitely hate it if they found out now.
In truth, Lilien’s attempts to act as a bridge between them often ignored procedure, rules, and even emotions—it was reckless more often than not. The servants often had to hide their laughter.
Rail believed that relationships between men and women should grow slowly and steadily, like waves soaking into sand on the beach.
If Tale, who’s out on assignment, finds out, he’d be shocked out of his mind.
Even now, Tale often clicked his tongue and said, “How can you feel sorry for the woman who almost killed you, even by accident?”
But Rail, being his twin, knew. He knew better than anyone that his brother, though rough and sharp-tongued, had a soft heart behind it all. After all, they shared the same blood.
With his fist over his mouth, Rail let out a breeze-like laugh and walked down the hallway. He kept rubbing the corners of his lips that wouldn’t stop twitching.
For someone who was supposed to be calling the doctor, he looked strangely cheerful.
