7 – Act 3, Chapter 1

The man ran.

Sometimes barefoot, sometimes in worn leather shoes.

His gasping breath reached the tip of his nose, and no matter how far he ran, the trees were endless. Whenever a cool breeze beckoned, the leaves sang joyfully. When droplets of water splashed, brilliant flowers would occasionally reveal themselves in full bloom.

Searing heat brushed his cheeks, and birds chirped in their own tongues. Within a hallucination smeared with vivid colors, the man ran without end. He did not know if he was on a path toward somewhere, or a path escaping from somewhere.

He heard someone’s laughter. Faint and quiet, like the sound of breathing. In that dimness, where it was hard to distinguish if it was laughter at all, he felt a formless longing. Unable to withstand the sudden surge of sorrow, the man stopped and turned around. He had to bring someone back, but all he saw was the road he had run endlessly.

In an instant, the surrounding scenery shifted. The lush green leaves all fell, leaving only skeletal branches, and a fierce chill settled into every joint of the white birch trees, the tangled limbs trapping the warmth.

The soft laughter vanished instantly. The sun disappeared, and rotten, black thickets surrounded the man in layers. Fear welled up beneath his feet. It was a pain like raw flesh being sliced by a blunt blade. Terrible screams, shouts, and manic laughter covered the forest and the sky.

You must not leave.

Someone pressed their lips close to his ear and whispered. His stiff shoulders trembled at the chilling cold rubbing against his earlobe. Sharp nails dug deep into his skin, pouring in venom. A scent permeating the humid night air lingered at the tip of his nose.

You must not leave that person behind.

The black mass chuckled incessantly. An unpleasant mucus thoroughly soaked the back and rim of his ear, sliding down his nape. Everywhere the breath touched, the skin burned black.

He will die.

The man gasped for air in ragged breaths. He tried to push the unknown entity away, even with his fists, but his drained body was powerless. The laughter grew lower and more dismal.

Taking advantage of the moment the squishy hand gripping his shoulder loosened, the man used all his strength to throw the monster off. A horrific sensation crawled up his skin.

Unable to overcome the surging disgust and terror, he began to run at full speed once more. His breath reached the very limit of his lungs. After running for a long while, he saw a bright light at the end of a straight path.

It was a path someone had told him about once. To run straight ahead, and to never, ever look back. Driven by the intense hope that he could escape if he reached that place, he quickened his pace.

He will be left alone in that hell to die.

The grotesque laughter became a fierce claw, ruthlessly scratching his back. Skin tore away and dark red blood poured out, but the man did not stop running.

His chest heaved as breaths exhaled and inhaled violently. His eyes felt hot, as if tears were about to spill over at any moment.

Don’t come back. That person said it. They told me not to come back.

Left alone in that hell. So very lonely.

Following the traces left by the tail of his memories, dawn broke in the distant sky. In the moment where brilliant joy and wretched pain intersected, the man finally shook off the wicked hand clutching his ankle and threw himself toward the light.

At that moment, his tightly shut eyes snapped open.

“Haa… ugh…”

A groan that couldn’t become a sound crushed his lungs and organs.

“…”

Under the pressure of feeling strangled, MacQuan blinked slowly. His pupils, emerging from the darkness, were drenched in exhaustion. It was a dream he had had countless times. Lacking even the energy to sit up, MacQuan stared silently at the ceiling from his lying position.

It was too ambiguous to be called a nightmare. The ending—surviving alone in hell—was always the same. Whether he should call it happiness because he was alive, or a nightmare because he had abandoned someone, he could not decide until the end.

✧ ✧ ✧

A tense silence hung over the assembly hall. It was so quiet that the sound of swallowing and the shifting of eyes were clearly audible. Eyes scanned the crowd filling the hall, gleaming sharply.

After a moment, the person sitting in the Speaker’s chair stood up after receiving documents from an aide.

“Ahem, ahem.”

After clearing his throat a few times, the Speaker shouted toward the audience.

“321 votes in favor, 212 votes against!”

The Speaker of the House’s booming shout echoed throughout the assembly hall. It was a fanfare announcing a victory split by a perfect margin. Cheers of victory erupted from one side, while sighs of regret and anger burst from the other, and the venue instantly became chaotic. It was the moment another bill, with war looming, was passed.

“You worked hard.”

The hand patting his shoulder was full of satisfaction.

“Thank you.”

MacQuan gave a short greeting to the Duke of Devonshire, who continued to express his satisfaction. The glares from the Conservative MPs leaving the chamber were fierce. Among the group standing further away, Gordon Baillyn, who until a moment ago had been at the forefront delivering the most powerful rebuttal speech, was also glaring at him. MacQuan smiled nonchalantly, ignoring the contempt and criticism directed at him.

“It is thanks to the Duke’s help.”

“It is all thanks to your thorough preparation and the fact that you didn’t give up for several years. At this rate, it will easily pass before next year’s general election.”

“We must move it forward as quickly as possible before the damage to our own citizens increases.”

“We must see how the situation develops. Conservative votes are also defecting rapidly.”

The tide, shifted by recent events, moved forward relentlessly, like a speedboat heading in the direction of the wind.

Although Chairman Cornwell of the Senate’s sabotage in the standing committee had been blatant, it was not easy to reverse an atmosphere that had already shifted. The gap in votes was gradually widening, and the passage rate of the troop deployment bill, which had been sluggish for years, was now sailing with a fair wind. Centered around the Duke of Devonshire, the government cabinet had also recently sounded the proclamation resolving for war.

Early next year at the earliest, by the end of next year at the latest.

There wasn’t much time left.

Gauging the plan, MacQuan narrowed his eyes.

“Even if they persist, they’ll have to consider public opinion with the general election in mind.”

“How about we have dinner together this evening? Elisha arrived in London this morning. Do you have time?”

MacQuan paused for a moment at the abrupt change of topic. Only then did he recall the pre-wedding banquet he had completely forgotten.

“Of course.”

He swept his tongue across the roof of his dry mouth and wore an artificial smile.

“Have the invitations been sent?”

“The invitations have all been delivered according to the list you provided.”

“Excellent.”

The Duke of Devonshire smiled with satisfaction and continued.

“I shall finally play the role of a father to that child, having been so lacking until now.”

The old Duke covered his eyelids with a wrinkled palm and rubbed them. His knuckles were full of regret, but no such emotion could be found in MacQuan’s eyes as he looked at him. It was a calmness that was far too sunken for someone facing marriage.

“I would like to set the banquet, issue the proclamation, and arrange the wedding date before the general election.”

It was a serene request that left no room for refusal. MacQuan politely guided the old Duke toward the central stairs.

“I shall follow the Duke’s wishes.”

“Yes. Any further delay would only be a flaw for both Elisha and yourself.”

The remark, pretending to be considerate, was simply laughable.

“I am merely grateful for your deep consideration.”

What was gained and what was lost, what had changed and what remained the same.

MacQuan recalled the list of attendees for the pre-wedding eve banquet scheduled for next week. His gaze, staring at the floor, revealed not a hint of his inner thoughts. Even if he surveyed the heart he had forcibly buried, he had experienced, to a tedious degree over the past few months, that the result was never good. It was right to simply erase the vanished time.

Marriage.

War.

Vague imaginations became reality, and he took another bold step forward. In the space that had grown closer, there was no trace of the person he sought. That fact was conveyed through a wind that was unbearably cold, but as always, MacQuan chose to ignore and distort his emotions.

“Let us go.”

With an expression now perfectly composed, MacQuan pointed toward the passage leading to the main gate. There was no longer any hesitation in his steps as he left the palace.

✧ ✧ ✧

The atmosphere at Grafton Hall was more excited than usual, as the return of Elisha, who had stayed at the Royal Hospital for treatment for a few days, coincided with the upcoming event schedule.

For the perfect pre-wedding celebration of Elisha Lenzdoor and MacQuan Lester, the Duchess of Devonshire and her daughters had to leave for Chatsworth House, the Devonshire estate, a few months ago at an unusual time. In reality, “expelled” was a more accurate term. It was a petty act by the Duke of Devonshire to remove bothersome presences.

By the time MacQuan Lester passed the oak stairs and reached the luxurious room that only the mistress of the house would use, the day had already wound down.

“MacQuan.”

Between the transparent Marseille curtains, a woman with a deep sickly pallor smiled welcomingly. MacQuan approached the foot of the bed with steady steps and drew back the curtains. Instantly, a foul smell stung his nose.

“The medicine?”

“I took it.”

The lips that lightly touched and left her forehead did not linger around the area but pulled away cleanly. MacQuan swallowed a low groan at the stench that shouldn’t have actually existed.

He knew the identity of this phantom scent.

It was miserably similar to the smell he had encountered long ago, while roaming dirty back alleys with his coldly cooling younger sibling on his back. Though this bedroom was incomparably more luxurious than back then, the scent of death is equal to everyone, regardless of status.

“The wedding could have been held in Wales.”

“…I was the one who insisted.”

“I’m sure you did.”

MacQuan sat on a small chair and crossed his arms. Elisha’s condition had deteriorated to the point where distinguishing the air quality between Wales and London was meaningless. In the first place, it was impossible for her to attend any event in this state.

“The Duke has ordered that the furniture and accessories in the Wales residence be moved in their entirety.”

“Oh, Father really…”

“He likely considered that your stay in London would be prolonged. He seems intent on decorating it to be as similar to the environment in Wales as possible. I always think this, but the Duke of Devonshire’s affection for the lady is truly boundless.”

At the joke mixed with laughter, Elisha smiled shyly.

“Still, they are my things; I cannot tolerate him doing as he pleases. I’ll have to oversee the management.”

“He would probably appreciate that.”

“I wonder if the painting you gave me as a gift was brought along. I was keeping it very preciously.”

“Painting?”

“Oh, surely you haven’t forgotten? You paid a tremendous amount of money for it.”

“Ah.”

Only then did MacQuan recall the incident during his visit to Grosvenor Square with his fiancée and let out a short exclamation. It was a painting of a man with hair like a fiercely burning flame.

“It was a whole five thousand pounds. Father might be angry if he finds out.”

“We must keep it a secret from the Duke. It wouldn’t be right to let him know that his future son-in-law’s artistic taste is disastrous.”

As the soulless conversation continued, MacQuan gradually lost his expression. Watching her fiancé for a moment, sensing that his heart was clearly not present, Elisha braced herself against the headboard of the bed.

“Are you truly alright?”

As the topic suddenly shifted, MacQuan finally met Elisha’s eyes.

“Alright with what?”

“The marriage.”

A heavy atmosphere settled instantly. His closed lips moved slowly after a long while.

“Is there any reason I wouldn’t be alright? We have already wasted much time. It is difficult to delay any further.”

The woman, looking at him with a calm face, soon smiled quietly.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Elisha.”

“I know Father is forcing this. He is someone who believes this marriage is a gift for me.”

“…Elisha.”

“MacQuan, a normal married life with me will be difficult.”

MacQuan stared at his fiancée in silence. Her eyes were clear, unaware that she was being deceived by a villain wearing a kind mask. Despite her being a truly pure and warm woman, MacQuan felt no guilt in deceiving his fiancée and embracing another’s body.

‘What trash I am.’

Self-derision passed through the corners of his mouth as he smiled bitterly.

“You have the same worry time and again. It is something we can resolve if we work together.”

Outside the opposite window, it was dark. Neither the path of the moon nor the stars was visible. Only artificial lamps struggled to light the night.

“Effort cannot achieve everything. MacQuan, if you only agree, I will ask Father to…”

“It does not matter.”

MacQuan uncrossed his arms and wrapped them around the woman’s skeletal shoulders. He could not step back now. Had that been the case, he wouldn’t have started in the first place. He spent a moment choosing words to melt her heart and gently stroked her arm.

“As I have told you several times before, neither marriage nor children are that important to me.”

“…”

First the heart, then the lungs, the bronchi—his pitiful fiancée grew ill to the point where the starting and ending points were unknown. It was a life with no exact diagnosis, nor any method of cure.

As she said, this marriage offered MacQuan no benefit. No healthy wife, no lovely children, no peaceful home. However, he would possess power that outweighed all those losses, and that was enough.

“Do not worry.”

MacQuan smiled softly with empty eyes.

I intend to gain immense wealth by leaning on the power obtained through marriage to you. I will climb higher and covet more honor. Children are not that necessary in my life.

Marriage was a transaction. Love does not solve everything. If an heir were needed, he could simply grow his power and then break away from the Duke of Devonshire to take a mistress. Was he not just a few steps away from entering the high society and becoming a member of a noble family, which he had so desired?

“I believe in you.”

At a sudden auditory hallucination, MacQuan’s face distorted hurriedly.

“MacQuan?”

“Theo.”

His well-defined features shook violently. Avoiding the fragments of memory that rushed in suddenly, MacQuan caught his breath for a moment. The boundary between reality and dreams twisted. The current surging hotly, breaking through the dam, was also unfamiliar. His thick eyebrows furrowed subtly over his thoughtful face.

“I apologize, I was thinking of something else for a moment…”

MacQuan repeatedly rubbed his rough lips with his palm. It was utterly difficult to concentrate on the conversation. He looked down at his trembling hand. Golden hair flowed softly between his fingers. At the sensation that was surprisingly similar to reality, MacQuan blinked rapidly.

“…”

There was no trace of anything on his palm. It was a hallucination. He clenched his empty hands and spoke again.

“Such thoughts will only torment you, so…”

A tremor occurred in the lips of the eloquent man. Even amidst scattering greed and an even more futile desire, pain clearly existed.

“You only need to think about your health and the marriage.”

MacQuan turned his attention back to the window, pretending to be distracted. A faint golden glow fell through the clouds hanging across the entire sky. He knew better than anyone the person who possessed a color very similar to that.

“MacQuan, your heart is…”

“I will take measures so that you no longer have to worry about such matters after the marriage. Neither children nor the role of a wife are things for you to worry about. The only thing that matters is your health.”

The words continuing in a monotonous tone were, in content alone, perfectly kind and affectionate.

“The Duke mentioned that you enjoy writing. I will create a wonderful studio for you. Though you must be careful, as the Duke of Devonshire will worry if you devote yourself too much to it.”

“MacQuan.”

“I will bring a famous novelist to serve as your teacher. If there is an author you have in mind, feel free to tell me anytime. The furniture store I dealt with before has many high-quality writing tables made of imported wood. I will purchase the finest one through Aljef. I am also on good terms with publishing house employees, so it would be fine even if you wish to publish. Your novel will be sold throughout England the very next day.”

“…”

“I promise that this marriage will never be a loss for you, Lady Elisha.”

At the disjointed flood of words, Elisha smiled sorrowfully.

Loss.

Her fiancé had a look as if he didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Yes, I see.”

Elisha gently held onto MacQuan. Although several months had passed since she returned to London from Wales, she had never once seen her fiancé smile. He was gloomy for most of his daily life, his complexion was dark, and he was taciturn except for necessary conversations. He went to work with such obsession that the number of times they saw each other’s faces could be counted on one hand. It was clear that today, too, he had been dragged here by her father’s insistence.

“I am always grateful for the kindness and love you bestow, MacQuan.”

Elisha’s lips, expressing her gratitude, were stiff like a broken machine.

Does that man even know what kind of expression he is making?

“It was only natural.”

Elisha no longer had the strength to break the patterns of her formalized daily life. Even if she said she would let him go, she lacked the courage to shake him off completely. She hoped her kind fiancé would never discover this cowardice of hers.

✧ ✧ ✧

During a formal session, if there were special matters at hand, reading sessions were held far more frequently than average. MacQuan began each day by organizing petition documents received from merchants across England through Robert, and in between, he threw himself into persuading centrists to secure votes.

Whenever he found a moment of leisure, he spent it processing paperwork related to his marriage. Even marriage was nothing more than a business necessity to him. Naturally, his sleep was kept to the bare minimum required for survival, and his condition was always at rock bottom. To any observer, it was clearly an overextended schedule.

MacQueen Lester knew why he maintained a daily routine so breathless that it bordered on excessive. He needed something to immerse himself in. Whether it was work, a person, or something else entirely, it didn’t matter.

……The time spent not seeing him was growing longer.

He would forget it for a while, but as soon as his work ended, the impulse would surge back like a wave. There were times when he craved that cool sensation brushing against his skin so intensely it felt like madness.

He did not want to call that emotion longing.

It was absolutely not that kind of feeling. The other person was someone he should not feel such emotions for, and it was impossible that he did.

Even while thinking that the mechanism for controlling his impulses and emotions might be utterly broken, MacQueen did not know how to stop pushing his body to the limit.

The news that would shatter his colorless daily life arrived just as his meager subconscious reached its breaking point.

The footsteps of two men crossing the hall, which was currently undergoing fire restoration work, were unusually urgent.

“The stenographer’s records?”

“I have organized everything,” Aljef replied quickly as they climbed into the carriage together.

I see. Already seated, MacQueen pulled off his thick woolen gloves, tossed them aside carelessly, and pressed his hand to his forehead. He possessed a composure that didn’t suit a winner who had triumphed in every recent reading session vote.

“A headache again?”

“No. Head straight to the office. Robert will visit briefly late tonight.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to get some rest, even for a moment? Last night, you didn’t……”

“It’s unnecessary, so stop.”

At the irritable tone, Aljef quickly tapped the body of the carriage through the window. Recently, his employer had become increasingly prone to irritability and annoyance. The coachman, reading Aljef’s signal, tightened the reins, and with a clatter, the wheels began to roll slowly.

“It must be submitted before the year ends, or at the very least, during the first reading session immediately after the turn of the year. Gordon Baillyn—that man’s recent movements are unusual. He’s young, but he’s quite a persuasive orator.”

“Yes. He tends to speak the truth without filtering it, so he has many enemies even within the Conservative Party.”

“A tree that is too straight eventually breaks, does it not?”

Aaron Wizfeldon’s ability to coax and recruit was higher than Gordon Baillyn’s. Even setting aside the power of his family, the man had a strange way of pressuring others into submission. It was an essential skill for a politician.

Now that Earl Vispilt, who had been Gordon Baillyn’s reliable backing, was away, it would not be difficult to isolate a righteous young politician who could do nothing but speak the blunt truth in Parliament.

“For now, since the reports arriving from the local area are all unfavorable, there shouldn’t be any major issues in supporting the extent of the damage.”

“Yes, that will provide more justification.”

Contrary to the despicable content of his guaranteed victory, MacQueen’s expression showed no emotion. Aljef hesitated for a moment before taking a document out of his bag.

“I have arranged meetings with the Conservative MPs on the list you mentioned through the agent.”

“Good work. Thanks to you, the task has become much easier. Since they are people who chase profit, persuading them won’t be that difficult. The flag has already tilted anyway. More importantly, is the guest list for the banquet fully organized?”

Fatigue seeped through every movement of his hand pressing his forehead and the area around his eyes. He was flipping through the documents meaninglessly. In the awkward silence, Aljef watched him for a while before speaking.

“Um……”

“Speak.”

“The Duke of Cornwall’s house has announced their intention to attend.”

It was a short and clear report.

“Wizfeldon?”

“Yes.”

“……The attendee.”

The question that followed a slow breath was heavy. It was a short sentence consisting of only a few words, but it contained thousands of emotions that were difficult to express. The master’s expression was indifferent, but seeing the document miserably crumpled under his large hand, Aljef answered with a heavy heart.

“Earl Vispilt has conveyed that he will attend the banquet as the representative of the Duke of Cornwall.”

The intermittent sound of breathing finally stopped completely. MacQueen, unable to immediately process the report, frowned and tilted his head. It would be more accurate to say he looked incredulous.

Vispilt.

MacQueen chewed over the words his long-time secretary had just spoken.

“Vispilt, Vispilt……”

As the muttering continued, the tension, stretched tight like a musical instrument string, sharpened.

“……Are you talking about Aaron Wizfeldon?”

“Yes, today……”

“Is it certainly him? Not Edmund Wizfeldon or Caliven Wisfield?”

“……Yes.”

“You’re sure the Earl is attending.”

The question, asked several times, proved a desire for repeated confirmation. Despite the strange atmosphere emanating from his master, Aljef answered calmly.

“I also sent a footman to Pellynton just in case to double-check. They said the attendance is certain.”

“I see……”

The face that had been striving to feign composure slowly distorted into a mess.

“……I suppose he’s returned to London.”

MacQueen stopped scanning the list and muttered in a voice that sounded as if he couldn’t believe it. His tone was half-dazed.

“Yes. I only found out after seeing the invitation list. I searched my best, but I am sorry to report it in this manner.”

“How ridiculous. I feel as if I’ve been bewitched by a ghost.”

MacQueen let out a hollow laugh, then roughly cleared the documents away and rubbed his cheek. I feel as if I’ve been bewitched by a ghost. As he muttered it again, the vigor and sharpness that usually defined him were completely stripped away.

“I searched everywhere. Where on earth were you hiding……”

MacQueen muttered with a completely vacant expression.

Three months. That was the time he spent searching not only the hospitals in downtown London but every medical facility in England, Wales, and Scotland. If he included the period before that when contact had already been failing, it was nearly four months. For that long time, the man had vanished from both the political and social spheres, putting forward his younger brother as a representative. As if he had never existed in the first place.

“I suppose he was really holed up in Bromley for recuperation.”

Contrary to the cynical tone, the eyes looking toward the floor were trembling violently.

He hadn’t said they should break up immediately, nor had he said they should end the relationship. It was a silence that was not just cruel, but brutal, for the price of a single letter saying they couldn’t meet for a while. Was it such a great matter that he couldn’t send a single simple reply for over four months?

Even if he had been hospitalized, couldn’t he have sent some news?

He hadn’t even begun a proper settlement, so how……

“Dammit!”

A harsh shout rang out. The hand covering his face trembled, unable to withstand the intensifying emotions. He felt as if he were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

It felt as if a person had completely vanished from the world. For the past few months, MacQueen had not heard a single word from Aaron Wizfeldon. No matter how many people he sent, they all returned empty-handed. One day, unable to endure it, he had gone to Pellynton Hall himself, only to return with the answer that Aaron Wizfeldon was not staying there.

A man whose whereabouts and actions he had no way of knowing for all that time had suddenly appeared overnight to announce his attendance at the banquet—MacQueen found it impossible to accept this situation while sane. Anger and anxiety overflowed. He had no room to consider the sequence of events.

“I have to see him.”

When he removed his hand, the face revealed was drenched in ferocious emotion. At the strangely sharp glint in his eyes, Aljef momentarily failed to grasp the situation and asked back.

“Who are you seeing……”

“Change the destination to Pellynton Hall. I must go there and confirm right now.”

It was nonsense. A harsh wind blew at that moment, shaking the carriage window.

“Councilman, please reconsider. A visit without a prior appointment is a great discourtesy. Moreover, the other party is the House of the Duke of Cornwall. In the current climate, it is better not to give the Duke of Cornwall any room to attack you.”

“I don’t care, turn around.”

“Please think again. I will send a letter as soon as it is light. Right now……”

Bam—!

The interior of the carriage shook from a powerful punch. Sensing the impact, the horse snorted and fluttered, causing the carriage to slow down slightly and then stop. Aljef could not say a word, seeing his master in such a state of excitement for the first time. A sharp silence flowed through the carriage.

“Four months.”

“…….”

“Aljef, four months. It’s already been four months since that man vanished without a word.”

The gaze that met his was full of emptiness. Seeing him look almost devastated, Aljef realized he could no longer stop his employer.

“Turn the horses.”

“……Understood.”

After a short silence, Aljef opened the window to announce the changed destination. The coachman grumbled that the route was getting longer, but only for a moment. Soon, the wheels rolled powerfully over the cobblestones.

“……I’m not angry with you.”

“I know.”

Pressing his brow with a pained expression, MacQueen added an excuse. His frowned expression was so severe that one might mistake it for genuine agony.

“I haven’t slept properly for several days, so my nerves are on edge.”

“You haven’t even been returning to your private residence for a while.”

“I’ll have to regulate myself for a bit. I’ve shown a shameful side of myself.”

“Not at all.”

“……I only need to confirm one thing. There will be nothing for you to worry about.”

The added explanation floated meaninglessly. The days had grown shorter than a few days prior, and in a short amount of time, the sky had already turned dark. Aljef, watching the profile that held both anxiety and complex emotions, remained silent. Sometimes, silence was the best response.

The rain, which had been falling drop by drop, became quite heavy by the time the carriage arrived at Pellynton Hall.

“Please go back.”

The answer from the head butler, Bernard Austin, was firm. Aljef was momentarily speechless at the answer that left no room for detour. Behind him stood his employer in a combat-ready state, and in front of him, the tightly closed main gate boasted the majesty of the ducal residence.

“Is there no way?”

“What is this rudeness, coming here without even formally requesting a meeting?”

In truth, it was a natural response. This was none other than the private residence of the Duke of Cornwall. At this late hour, and moreover, it was impossible to meet the heir of a great noble house without any prior appointment. No matter how much his master’s status had risen recently, things that were impossible remained impossible.

Aljef, who had nowhere to look out of embarrassment, requested again in a shrinking voice.

“I am truly sorry for the discourtesy. A short amount of time will be enough.”

“If you know it is a discourtesy, please leave immediately. What on earth is the meaning of this?”

“Please just tell Earl Vispilt once that he wishes for an interview. Sir Lester desires it very earnestly……”

At the continued pleading, Bernard did not hide his perplexity.

“That desire is Sir Lester’s concern. We have been like this for nearly an hour. What exactly is the reason? The Duke of Cornwall is scheduled to return soon, so please leave. If the master sees you like this, we will be in great trouble.”

“It won’t take long. Just for a moment……”

“I have something to ask.”

Just as he spoke, feeling that this was his last chance after the refusals had reached their limit, someone stepped forward and intervened in the conversation.

Bernard could not hide his bewilderment upon identifying the intruder who had suddenly burst in. He recalled the Duke of Cornwall, who for the past few months had raged like a madman at the mere mention of this man’s name.

“Sir Lester, please don’t do this here……”

“Tell me if Earl Vispilt is currently staying at Pellynton Hall—no, if he is in London. Once that fact is confirmed, I will leave without further insistence.”

A heavy determination shone in the eyes that stared straight ahead. The expression, layered with stubbornness, showed that he had no intention of retreating easily.

“I beg you.”

The question, asked several times, even carried a sense of desperation. Bernard stepped back for a moment. The Duke of Cornwall’s return was drawing closer. There was nothing to be gained by dragging out the time. After some deliberation, he let out a deep sigh.

“He is here.”

It was a short answer.

“……I see. I see.”

The moment the doubt was confirmed as fact, a heavy stone ruthlessly struck MacQueen’s chest. It was a terrible sensation, as if his internal organs were being crushed. In unspeakable pain, MacQueen simply stood there, unable to say a word.

“Therefore, please leave. If you wish for an interview, please send a formal request letter through an agent, Sir Lester.”

“……It was true.”

MacQueen slowly bit his lip.

It was true.

He really was in London.

He didn’t know since when, but the man was definitely residing in London. Despite that, he had vanished without a trace and acted as if he had disappeared, cutting off all contact. To strangle him and make him anxious. No, perhaps he had been in London from the start.

A hypothesis suddenly occurred to him.

Perhaps it was a trick to make the other person anxious by remaining secluded as soon as he tried to end the relationship.

To seize the initiative in this deformed relationship.

As the thoughts continued, the heart that had been aching for no reason became surprisingly calm. That arrogant man might be hiding somewhere in that lavish mansion, celebrating the victory he had achieved in their relationship.

“I understand.”

MacQueen scanned the windows of the mansion in silence for a long time before giving a short answer. It was a coldness from which all desperation and longing had been stripped. A strong grip tightened on the handle of his cane.

“Tell the Earl that I will see him at the banquet. And that I will neither send letters nor visit again.”

After shaking off even the remnants of his curiosity, MacQueen turned around cleanly and headed for the carriage. There was no longer any reason to show a pathetic side of himself here. He had proposed a breakup, and the other had responded by vanishing, so there was no need to feel any clumsy guilt. It was a perfect end. A growing chill settled over his contemplative face.

“Sir Lester!”

Aljef hurried after his master, whose back was weighed down by humiliation. The gap in their strides did not close easily. The deep darkness swallowed the tall man. The emotion in the gaze facing forward was beyond anger, bordering on hatred. In the strides he took, not a single piece of lingering affection could be found.

At the sound of curtains being drawn roughly, Caliven, who had been examining documents, looked up.

“Is something the matter?”

“No.”

Aaron stared at the curtained window for a few more seconds with an expressionless face before returning to the desk. In an atmosphere that had become colder than before, Caliven quickly scanned the invitation lying on the side console. Since it was wide open, the contents were easy to read. Aaron noticed his brother’s darkened mood and gave a light snort.

“Are you really going?”

“Is there any reason I cannot?”

“Father will not forgive you if he finds out.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, Aaron sat on the sofa and ruffled his hair. A faint breath flowed beneath the smooth bridge of his nose.

“He’ll kill me if he wants to. Though he probably lacks even the courage for that.”

The sound of a forced breath held in silence.

“……Still, I wonder if it’s necessary for you to go.”

“He’s worked so hard to grab onto something; I should at least see the sight of it. For a mere merchant who sold medicine to marry the adopted daughter of a Grand Ducal house—isn’t that a social climb perfectly suited for me?”

Contrary to the spiteful words, the rhythm of his breathing shook violently. The sound of a flying insect was noisy. He couldn’t tell if it was around his ears or inside his head. Aaron blinked slowly and bit into his pipe. It was to regain his sanity.

“Isn’t my elder brother also busy preparing for the engagement ceremony?”

“What is it that I actually do? Everyone will prepare on their own. Isn’t it just a matter of showing up?”

The tone was calm, as if speaking of someone else’s affairs. Having recovered from the shock, the Duke of Cornwall neither forgave the son who had committed insubordination nor allowed his own flaws to be exposed to the world.

The violence returned as payment for pointing a gun had robbed Aaron of nearly four months. That was the time it took for him to appear, at least superficially, intact. Despite the devoted care of skilled medical staff, the remnants of that violence still lingered, indelible, upon his refined face.

In the meantime, many things progressed rapidly, regardless of the parties involved. The engagement ceremony to be held with the daughter of the House of Newcastle was one of them.

And so was someone’s wedding.

“The wedding of the century…”

Aaron recalled the old monster who had looked at him with terrified eyes, limbs trembling. A bright smile bloomed upon his smooth lips at the memory of that ridiculous sight. The reason he hadn’t pulled the trigger until the very end was not due to some meager sense of guilt or remorse. He simply had no intention of ending it easily. At the most dramatic moment, there is no end more perfect than a despair that has fallen to the absolute bottom.

“I should congratulate them. Personally.”

His words trailed off. Aaron recalled a certain arrogant touch. The playful habit of pressing the indentation between the rim and the lobe of the ear.

“I love you.”

What a truly absurd confession.

Naturally, he hadn’t believed it. Not for a single moment had he believed the lies the man used to tease him with. Because he hadn’t believed, there was no problem.

Foolish memories had to be weathered away and scattered to the wind.

“…I should congratulate them.”

Aaron laughed softly and emptied his wine glass. He found it difficult to concentrate due to a ringing in his ears that had become noisy a while ago. He needed medicine, but it was impossible for now. His father’s surveillance was so strict that it was difficult to obtain opium from Dr. Boswell, even for therapeutic purposes. Aaron pressed his temples deeply and changed the subject.

“More importantly, what happened with the composition of the audit team?”

“I plan to arrange a meeting within this week. Sir Palmer helped facilitate the connection, so the discussions went more smoothly than expected.”

“And my father?”

“He seemed displeased. He agreed to the accounting issues for now, but…”

Aaron frowned as Calvin trailed off.

“Speak clearly.”

“He has delegated the shareholders’ decision-making power to me. He said there is no longer a need to consult with him, and that he will only assist with the Bank of England loan issue. He intends to hold a formal meeting soon to officially announce the transfer of the majority shareholder.”

A laugh mixed with a sigh escaped.

“He finally spat out his poison.”

“…”

“Toward you.”

In the silence, Calvin smiled with a troubled expression. It was an attitude accustomed to unfair treatment.

“It’s actually for the better. Since it means he won’t step in on any decisions, we can handle Rodinton according to your will.”

“He won’t permit that part.”

“If he doesn’t permit it, does that mean he will take responsibility himself?”

Aaron slowly stroked the oak bookshelf with his hand.

“We must report to Her Majesty the Queen as soon as possible. We need to cut out the rotten pus, report the current situation properly, and then decide on the disposal of Rodinton.”

“I understand. As soon as the loan issue is settled, I will tell my father…”

“How foolish.”

A cold sneer poured out.

“It is surprising how your foolishness remains unlearned even after everything that has happened. How long do you intend to consult with that man? Your words have no real influence anyway. He won’t even arrange an audience with the Queen for you. The longer this drags on, the shorter your lifeline becomes.”

Hahaha—

At that moment, a repulsive laugh rang out. It was a sound resembling his father’s voice. The expression that had been feigning composure instantly crumpled into savagery. Aaron turned around violently, eyes blazing with hatred.

“Is something the matter?”

Calvin called out to Aaron in a puzzled voice.

“…Nothing.”

The door was firmly closed, and his father was nowhere to be seen. It was an auditory hallucination. Realizing his abnormal symptoms, the corners of Aaron’s lips curled askew.

Am I truly going mad?

His oxidized heart felt brittle. He slowly held his breath and bit down on the pipe stem, inhaling deeply to control the tremors. His straight hand shook for a moment before stopping.

“In any case, the representative of Rodinton is not the Duke of Cornwall. Which means he has no decision-making power. I don’t know how he fares as a politician, but he is a man with absolutely no business knowledge or skill.”

A short smile crept onto his lips as he continued the notification quietly.

“Therefore, there is no need to seek permission for every single matter.”

“Brother.”

The words were difficult to decipher. A look of bewilderment clouded Calvin’s expression.

“There is something you must do.”

“If it’s a task…”

A bloodless hand touched the documents. Aaron added, lightly tapping the pipe bowl against a plate.

“It might be a bit of a nuisance. First, I intend to take everything from you. Stop acting as my proxy now.”

“What?”

“Why, are you disappointed?”

“Brother, you know that is not the reason.”

“How dim-witted.”

Looking at his flustered younger brother, Aaron smiled mischievously. In that look, one could glimpse the boy who had been forcibly castrated long ago. Calvin’s expression momentarily turned wistful. Fiddling with his stiffened hand, he quietly brought out the sincerity he had kept buried.

“All the history and future held by Cornwall belong to you, Brother. I have no reason to be disappointed.”

It was a reaction so docile it was boring. Aaron chuckled and took a deep drag of the cigar. His gaunt cheeks sank further.

“…I forgot that you are an inflexible fellow. What on earth should I say to you?”

With a bored gesture, he scattered the piled documents haphazardly. His narrowed eyes held a calm light.

“Let’s start with Rodinton. I must return to Westminster, congratulate a wedding, and yes… I must send out invitations announcing the engagement. It would be quite a play if I sent one to that man first. I’ll be busy for a while.”

The refined features that finished the sentence relaxed. Opaque smoke spread heavily over the desk. Aaron leaned his head back and let out a weary sigh. He was tired enough to collapse at any moment, but considering the conclusion approaching soon, he was willing to endure it. The time to execute the things he had pondered for so long was drawing near.

“…!”

Having closed the door and stepped out, Calvin gasped in surprise at the presence that had approached him. His father, with a completely frozen expression, was blocking his path.

“Were you talking?”

“…Yes.”

Eyes full of suspicion quickly scanned the documents in the second son’s hand and the doorknob. When no answer returned, a cold and ruthless smile followed.

“I thought you had forgotten how to speak entirely, but it seems you still converse with him. Foolish boy.”

“…”

“Because you have lived enjoying everything without lack, you do not realize how great the power I hold is. It is truly wretched that you are so relaxed when there are so many urgent matters at hand.”

The Duke of Cornwall bit his aching lips, swallowing his anger. His wrinkled eyes twitched.

“Move.”

A chilly command fell. Since his father was a man who could explode at any time, Calvin silently stepped back from the doorway. However, unlike usual, he could not bring himself to leave. After a moment, Calvin turned back with a determined expression.

“…Could you not give my brother just a little more time?”

The motion of gripping the handle stopped. The cold temperature plummeted further.

“Time?”

The corners of the Duke of Cornwall’s mouth twisted as he asked back.

“Brother has only just regained his composure. If you could watch over him a little longer, surely…”

“You are talking nonsense. Have I not already given him a lifetime of time? The result of granting him patience and tolerance has always been the worst.”

“I am sorry.”

“When the mind is too relaxed, one only does useless things. Have you not learned enough from the events so far about what your brother has been up to? And now you say I should give time to someone who has completely gone mad? Do not presume to interfere. This is not a matter for someone like you!”

Ending with words that trampled upon a person’s dignity, the Duke pushed the door open. Though a person had been in that space just moments ago, the air emerging through the gap of the open door was cold enough to freeze one’s very soul.

“…Yes.”

After hesitating a few more times, Calvin eventually gave up on persuading him and stepped aside. In a state of helplessness, he followed his father’s retreating back with his eyes. It was a back as solemn as a soldier heading toward a battlefield. And it did not take long for the precarious silence to be shattered.

A few minutes later, one-sided shouting and the crashing sound of breaking objects flowed out into the lobby. It was exactly as expected.

[…you, you…]

[Your mind… while… more…]

Only one person was screaming. Not a single syllable of the brother’s voice could be heard. Since the shooting incident that had shocked everyone, the atmosphere at Pellington Hall resembled a war day by day. The Duke of Cornwall, whose anger management was completely broken, inflicted cruel violence upon his heir daily, and Aaron treated him with perfect silence and perfect indifference.

[Speak… you bastard… if you…]

Unable to leave the spot, Calvin leaned against the wall, staggering. Since discovering his brother collapsed after self-harming in his room not long ago, he could not let go of his anxiety for a single moment. There were many nights he spent awake, terrified that something might happen while he was away.

His tightly closed eyelids trembled violently. He was a bystander. Having learned nothing but neglect and avoidance his entire life, he had stood by and watched the things that happened to his only brother. He could neither stop it with all his might nor completely run away. A cowardly coward, a wretched defeated soldier. Calvin closed his eyes even tighter.

“Calvin.”

Eyes possessing a noble history looked directly at him. The color that contained both the sky and the sea was one that only his brother possessed.

“Come here.”

In their childhood, whenever he hid in the corners of the mansion to avoid pitying gazes, Aaron would often find him. Most of the time it was reprimands rather than comfort, but even at a young age, Calvin thought his brother looked truly radiant then. Even though there was no warmth in the gaze that looked at him.

Though the degree differed, Aaron Wizfeldon, like his father, belonged to the type whose nature was cold and devoid of affection. He was neither warm nor affectionate. Nevertheless, the brother two years his senior would always call his name whenever they encountered each other in the mansion. It wasn’t curiosity or affection, but simply a routine calling.

The interest Aaron Wizfeldon gave Calvin was exactly to that extent.

But it was interest that no one else had given.

✧ ✧ ✧

Click.

At the unusually loud sound, Shuman glanced toward the source. MacQueen, who had set down his empty teacup, stood up.

“The Duke of Devonshire is scheduled to visit tomorrow morning.”

“There will be much to prepare.”

MacQueen replied briefly and walked toward the work table. Fatigue was deeply etched in his tone. For the past few days, he had been shut in his study day and night like a man possessed by work, never coming out.

“It is late; why don’t you get some rest?”

“I don’t have the luxury.”

It was an answer that left no room for reconsideration. The old butler, following behind, sighed and gave up on persuading him.

“Are these today’s arrivals?”

“Yes. These are the invitations and letters that arrived by this afternoon.”

As a sharp blade passed through, the contents of the envelopes were revealed. Eyes that had been calmly reading the letters suddenly wavered. His breathing sank heavily. MacQueen exhaled a low breath and set the card down.

“…”

His fingertips touched another envelope. The crest stamped in wax was overly familiar. It was the emblem of the Wizfeldon family of Cornwall. Recalling the memory of being denied a visit a few days ago, MacQueen frowned.

“Cornwall?”

“Yes, an invitation has arrived from the Wizfeldon family.”

“Doesn’t sound like very good news.”

Pretending to be unfazed, he skillfully cut the opening of the envelope.

“Has the person I mentioned this morning arrived?”

“Yes. He is waiting in the lobby. Shall I tell him to come up?”

“No, for now…”

His eyes narrowed as he pulled out the card, which was printed with lavish gold decorations.

“…”

MacQueen knew well the use of this kind of card. Countless families used them to announce occasions requiring celebration, and he himself had used one not long ago.

“My.”

A sigh resembling admiration escaped. After scanning until the final phrase, the corners of MacQueen’s mouth curved smoothly.

“This is maddening.”

Covering his mouth with his palm, he bent his waist halfway. His shoulders shook violently following the large movement.

“Master?”

“Haha, this is truly…”

A rasping laugh leaked through his fingers. Shuman’s expression clouded with worry at the sight of his master suddenly laughing.

“Has something happened?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m alright, so you may leave now.”

Waving toward the door, MacQueen took a glass from the side table.

“It is almost time for you to sleep, so alcohol is…”

“Get out!”

His handsome face distorted, and a shout finally erupted. At the violent reaction he had never seen before, the butler hurriedly left the room. The door closed, and silence returned.

“…”

After confirming no one was in the room, MacQueen lifted the glass without hesitation. With a gulping sound, his Adam’s apple moved vividly as he swallowed the liquor.

Thud.

At the rough motion, the half-remaining alcohol sloshed. His hand, with veins popping, looked as if it might crush the glass at any moment.

“Just…”

Alcohol flowed over the invitation printed on luxurious material.

Cornwall and Newcastle.

The words announcing the engagement of the two ducal houses that commanded England began to blur slowly.

“Just this kind of thing…”

It was clear it had been sent intentionally. He must have been angry at the invitation to the eve-of-wedding banquet that MacQueen had sent, and thus sent an identical invitation just to show off.

To provoke his anger. To incite jealousy. Where could one find a cheaper play than this? The intention was transparent. The more he chewed over the contents of the invitation, the deeper the cracks in the mask he wore became.

“I won’t get married.”

“I want to think of a way for us to be together.”

The sweet words whispered after they had slept together came to mind. A wicked human. He must have deceived him just to escape the crisis of the moment. To buy time for the opponent to let their guard down.

…Just as he himself had done.

Uncontrollable rage dominated his mind. Unable to overcome the surging aggression, MacQueen threw the glass with all his might.

Crash—!

Immediately, with a violent crashing sound, transparent glass shattered everywhere. His body, breathing heavily, shook violently.

“…”

MacQueen stared at the firmly closed entrance with trembling eyes. Thanks to having dismissed the servants since the morning, neither the sound of knocking nor footsteps could be heard. It was a completely sealed space that no one could disturb unless he personally went downstairs to call them.

Yes.

This was not Briston House, where schemes and conspiracies were hidden. This mansion was Emblin Hall, the official London townhouse of Enfield. It was a space to showcase all the wealth and power MacQueen Lester possessed, and it was the mansion where that noble and haughty heir of a ducal house had set aside his pride and revealed a part of his heart to him.

MacQueen recalled the past that had passed by more vaguely than a dream.

At a moment he had not expected at all.

The rainy night after meeting Robert and returning, the carriage of the Duke of Cornwall’s house waiting in front of the Emblin mansion.

The ecstasy of that night.

✧ ✧ ✧

London, welcoming winter, was cold and dark. Leaving the Duke and Duchess enjoying tea in the main hall of the dining room behind, Aaron escorted his prospective fiancée to the balcony.

“The Earl’s complexion doesn’t look very good. I heard you were badly injured after falling from a horse, but I suppose that wasn’t the only reason.”

Aaron nodded with a crooked smile.

“You are even more beautiful.”

“Words you do not mean in your heart.”

Lariensa glanced at him softly and sat in a chair at the tea table prepared to one side. Beneath the hair swept back from her forehead, the handsome face of her fiancé came into view. He had an impression that particularly evoked the chill of midwinter.

“Your face does not look well.”

Indeed, the man had become considerably thinner and worn.

“I suppose you won’t tell me the reason even if I ask?”

The man affirmed with silence. He was a man who gave no opening to others. Curling her pink lips into a round smile, Lariensa immediately brought up her business.

“My family intends to set the wedding date immediately after the engagement ceremony.”

The hand fiddling with the teacup stopped. Hmm. Aaron let out a short breath and rested his chin on his hand. His jawline and eyes, which had become sharper over the last few months, made him look even more irritable.

“Do you have any idea how much the Duke of Cornwall egged my father on? We nearly skipped the engagement ceremony entirely. While the Earl remained absent, we almost became husband and wife.”

Lariensa let out a sigh tinged with a complaint as she set her teacup back down. The movement of her fingertips was elegant.

“My apologies. My father is a man who possessed no patience to begin with.”

Answering with an air of exhaustion, Aaron ran a hand through his hair. Faint, small scars remained visible on his exposed skin.

“As I mentioned before, I intend to go to Prussia.”

A subtle fragrance drifted quietly. Beneath her lush eyelashes, her intelligent eyes sparkled.

Aaron remained silent for a moment before nodding. Much had already been discussed through the various secret letters they had exchanged. The woman, who did not wish for a life trapped in a cage, had chosen a distant foreign land to let her potential shine. Sunlight passed languidly through the brief silence.

“If it is the region you mentioned then, I shall have it prepared. Do you intend to leave after the engagement ceremony? Time will be tight.”

“I don’t mind going after the wedding.”

The woman spoke the thoughts she had been harboring. Aaron’s eyebrows arched slightly toward his forehead, as if the statement were unexpected.

“Wedding?”

“Yes, marriage. At our first meeting, you said you would do it if I wanted to marry. Do you remember?”

“……I remember.”

“I need your help, Earl.”

“Has that man agreed to this?”

“Actually…”

The woman could not easily continue. Aaron waited with a rare amount of patience.

“My father has discovered my relationship with him.”

“I see.”

“I told him we broke up, but I am being watched. I’ve agonized over it for several days, and I concluded that marrying you might actually be the best way to protect him.”

“…….”

“My father, the Duke of Newcastle, will certainly kill him. That is the kind of man my father is.”

It was a point that suggested the nameless man had also faced several threats to his life during the period she had been unable to leave her seat. Aaron gazed at his fiancée in silence. There was neither pity nor compassion in his gaze. After a long while, he spoke.

“If a marriage is necessary, I do not mind holding a ceremony. Of course, as I mentioned before, you must agree to the matter of an heir.”

“I don’t mind.”

As the answer jumped out immediately, Aaron chuckled and leaned in. Lariensa Filmore’s lover was a man who had belonged to the unit Caliven once served in. He was not someone the Duke of Newcastle, who valued prestige, would simply overlook as a low-ranking soldier. Aaron appraised her calmly with a detached gaze.

“It seems my father and the Duke of Newcastle share a similar disposition.”

“My father is a truly cruel man.”

“It will be no different.”

“The Duke of Cornwall didn’t seem that way… that is unexpected. Still, isn’t he widely respected for his character in public?”

“That he is.”

A chilly sense of empathy filled the void between them. Even though the door was closed, there was an illusion of a wind blowing. Thin spores of memory began to eat away at the mind.

“Lady Lariensa Filmore.”

Lariensa, who had been aimlessly fiddling with her teacup, looked up. Her fiancé, who had called her, was staring blankly at the garden unfolding beyond the glass door, one arm resting on the armrest. No emotion could be felt on the face revealed beneath the platinum blonde hair, which was neatly combed and fixed. He looked like a portrait—splendid and elegant, yet devoid of vitality.

“War will break out soon.”

Aaron crossed his legs, habitually rubbing his dry lips. His ankle, slightly revealed between the hem of his trousers and his pointed black Oxford shoes, tapped slowly.

“War?”

“It is a natural progression.”

Only formal procedures remained; the Cabinet and the Foreign Secretary had already established the dispatch policy and were merely awaiting the official decision. Even the Queen had changed her mind, and parliamentary approval was only a matter of time. There was zero possibility of the tide turning. The Whig Party faction leading the dispatch plan might be celebrating their victory and flaunting their ambitions by now.

His own efforts and negotiations to win over the centrists over a long period had failed, and the weaknesses he held in secret had reached a point where the rot could no longer be hidden. This was one of the reasons he was rushing the marriage.

“If the Duke of Newcastle knows, perhaps that man will be drafted into the upcoming war.”

“That is a cruel joke.”

“If the Duke of Newcastle does not do it, my father will ensure it happens. The two Dukes are not close, are they? Perhaps even now, they are sharing information about that man and discussing how to handle him.”

“I don’t want to hear such things, even as a joke.”

“Regrettably, it is reality.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Though her voice was wet with emotion as she repeated herself, Lariensa did not cry until the end.

“I want to find a way to protect him. After much thought, I have decided to use the card of marriage.”

“…….”

“After marrying you, Earl, I intend to take him with me when I go to Prussia.”

“By what means?”

“If you help only that man escape this country safely, I promise to faithfully fulfill my duties as a spouse. Furthermore, I will be by your side as the Countess of Vispilt whenever you may need Newcastle.”

“Not a bad trade.”

“I only hope there is some benefit for you, Earl. This is not a whim or a reckless impulse, but my sincere heart.”

“I am sorry to throw cold water on your plans, but marriage will not stop his dispatch. As I said a moment ago, the two Dukes are likely already planning that matter.”

“Then what method would be best?”

Unable to hide her anxiety, Lariensa bit her lip with a distressed expression. Every day had been precarious since her lover’s existence was discovered. She did not have enough power to resist. She, too, knew that sending an unknown low-ranking soldier to war and disposing of him there was easier than plucking a thornless rose.

“One cannot stop what is meant to happen, but if it is inevitable, it is worth seeking a solution by assuming that situation.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“More than you think.”

“I will do whatever it takes.”

“For now, it is fine. When the time comes, I will have a favor to ask of you.”

“That is a relief. I don’t care for simply being indebted.”

Aaron laughed again at her bold remark. He kept rubbing the corner of his mouth, but he never took out his pipe until the end.

“Lady Lariensa.”

Calling her, Aaron met her eyes again. There was not a single teaspoon of affection in the hand that pushed aside the tea that had already gone cold.

“We shall make good partners.”

“…….”

“For our desires could not align more perfectly than this.”

His face was that of a schemer, but his smile was utterly exhausted. However, Lariensa Filmore knew well that the man did not need her consolation.

“I have a keen eye for people.”

“It is hard to imagine you are the same woman who came to me trembling all over, saying she had something to tell me.”

“Earl, I was truly terrified back then.”

A low laugh escaped as she tried to hide her embarrassment. Her troubled heart soon turned toward her powerless lover, who might be dragged to the battlefield at any moment. Love is as sweet as a midsummer night’s dream, but the responsibility of sustaining that emotion was heavy and overwhelming.

She listened quietly to the words that followed. If she could save her lover, she would; she wanted to be with him for as long as possible. The tone of the man as he spoke slowly was very low and cold, yet somehow lonely.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where is my brother?”

Caliven looked around the quiet interior of the mansion. Having failed to avoid the sudden rain just before entering through the main gate, his hair and cheeks were covered in raindrops.

“The Master has gone to the Newcastle family residence. The Duchess was unable to attend as she is unwell.”

While a thin-ice atmosphere persisted within the mansion, the Duchess’s nervousness had also reached its peak. The servants all complained of extreme fatigue due to the hysteria that lasted from day to night.

“Was there nothing unusual? Did Father and my brother argue again?”

Bernard answered with a deep sigh. A chaotic scene had already unfolded once since morning.

“Only the Master was angry. The Young Master was practically dragged away.”

“My brother’s condition is…”

“We called Doctor Boswell. Fortunately, this time he did not touch any visible areas.”

“……I see. How is Mother?”

“She is lying in bed and has requested that no one enter. She only repeats that she will return to the Northampton Estate as soon as the engagement ceremony is over.”

“Still, make sure she eats.”

“I understand.”

Caliven let out a heavy sigh and unbuttoned his gilet.

The engagement between the two families was proceeding as planned. Marriage in the spring following the engagement. The Duke of Cornwall wanted his heir to start a family before the next general election. He believed marriage was the only way to hold onto a son who was descending into madness year by year.

“I’ll need a new shirt.”

“I will prepare it immediately.”

He had to head down to Nottinghamshire right away. There were several urgent matters regarding Rodinton that needed to be handled. In addition to the worsening business situation, the atmosphere of those demanding labor rights was unusual. Even in this critical situation, there was no clear solution.

Exhausted sighs leaked out repeatedly. Noticing this, the old butler approached cautiously.

“Young Master, shall I prepare some tea?”

“No. I must leave immediately.”

Bernard, who had instructed the footman to organize the clothes, paused for a moment and turned around.

“A letter has arrived for you, Young Master.”

“A letter?”

“It is from a law office in Nottinghamshire.”

The hand receiving the envelope paused. On the surface of the envelope, printed with sophisticated gold decorations, were the seal of the Russell Segrave Law Office—one of Rodinton’s primary advisory groups—and a stamp indicating it was an important document. An unconscious, deep sigh escaped.

“It must be about Rodinton.”

“I will prepare your things immediately.”

Sensing the sunken atmosphere, Bernard quickly exited the room. Only after the door closed did Caliven carefully open the envelope with a letter opener.

A few documents came out of the envelope. The gold decoration at the top indicated that the document was a notarized paper with official authority. At the sight of the word ‘Rodinton’ at the beginning, Caliven clamped his mouth shut. For several years now, the Rodinton cotton company had been narrowing Caliven Wisfield’s position within the Wisfield family, pushing him further toward the edge of a cliff.

“…….”

Someone was bound to get hurt anyway. If one person had to be sacrificed, it was only right that it be him. Though he had vowed this countless times, the feeling of fear did not easily vanish.

His thoughts were brief; as he read the contents, his eyes were suddenly clouded with bewilderment.

“……This is?”

With a face full of horror, Caliven checked the notification written in the letter several times. No matter how many times he looked, the conclusion pointed to by the neat cursive was only one.

“What on earth is this…”

The letter in his hand became miserably crumpled.

“My God.”

An exclamation of horror burst forth. Even though he knew no one else was there, Caliven looked around for a moment.

“First, I intend to take everything from you.”

He recalled the smile his brother, whose inner thoughts were inscrutable, used to wear. Whenever he made that expression, his brother always triggered impulsive and violent incidents.

“We must prepare for the Privy Council’s special audit. I intend to transfer the shares remaining in your name to a paper company. I will handle all the processing, so make sure to sign the transfer documents for your share of Rodinton.”

“Then who will take the role of the company representative?”

“……I have found someone who exists only on paper. I plan to transfer it to that person’s name, so you don’t need to worry. First, transfer it to me, and then I will entrust it to the law office to be re-entrusted to a new person.”

Even when plagued by Rodinton matters, Aaron never directly intervened in high-risk tasks. The final decision-maker for matters with potential future legal issues had always been Caliven Wisfield. Because that was the position a second son held in the Wisfield family, no one raised an issue, and Caliven silently accepted his role.

Aaron’s role and position were strictly divided into advice, mediation, and accounting operation analysis. Therefore, transferring the shares was a choice that offered no benefit. Rather, it was a massive loss.

His brother was brilliant and quick to calculate profit and loss. He was absolutely not the type of person to lead the way in sacrificing himself or getting stained. That was why Caliven had no doubt about the instructions given to him.

How truly foolish.

How foolishly and complacently he had thought.

Why had he forgotten his brother’s self-destructive tendencies that had persisted for so long?

Without further time to think, Caliven grabbed his discarded coat. Just then, Bernard entered at the right moment.

“Young Master, I have brought the clothes to change into, but…”

“I must go to Nottinghamshire immediately.”

“Right now, sir?”

“When Father and my brother return, tell them I will be staying in Liverpool for a few days. Please!”

Watching Caliven, whose anxiety had risen to his chin, Bernard also followed him with quick steps.

✧ ✧ ✧

It had been a very long time since he had received a personal letter of greeting, rather than a business one, from an old friend. Even amidst the frantic circumstances, Robert Higgins gladly accepted his colleague’s invitation. By the time the carriage carrying him arrived at Emblin Hall, night was deepening amidst a thick fog.

“Lester.”

As the door opened, an old acquaintance appeared. It had been a while since Robert returned to London from Guangzhou, but due to the bustle of daily life, the two were only able to meet again nearly two months after his return.

“Robert.”

“Your complexion is dark. I came to London in one breath hoping to get some strength from you, but it seems I’m the one who has to give it; I feel like running away.”

Robert entered Emblin, shaking the rainwater from his hair. The rain that had been falling for days soaked the gray city, announcing a cool and humid season.

“Sit here. I’ve been out of it. I even forgot the fact that you were coming.”

“What were you working on so diligently? Oh, the invitation arrived safely. The design was elaborate, unlike you. Judging by the scale, isn’t it practically a wedding?”

At the word ‘invitation,’ the hand pushing the chair paused. Unaware of the state, Robert continued speaking as he took off his coat and hat.

“I can’t believe the man who will be the protagonist of this magnificent party in just two days is still working in his office. Lady Elisha is truly an angelic lady.”

“There is a mountain of work to handle. Tomorrow, I must go into Buckingham with the Duke of Devonshire from early morning.”

“Ladies do not like men who are immersed only in work. Lady Elisha certainly accepted you well. Why don’t you steady your heart for her sake?”

“…….”

At that moment, the skillfully flowing responses stopped. It was an expected silence. Robert smiled awkwardly and gathered both hands on the table.

“Knowing your personality, you must have had a reason for calling me while you’re in the middle of being so busy.”

“……It seems Aljef said something again.”

Robert shrugged with a natural smile.

“He was so worried the entire way in the carriage. He’s not usually a taciturn fellow. How bad must it be for that friend to worry about you so much?”

Recalling the secretary who had been particularly mindful of him for the past few days, MacQuan smiled bitterly. He rubbed around his cheeks a few times and let out a short sigh.

“Is something happening with Lady Elisha? Or perhaps a friction with the Duke of Devonshire?”

“……It’s nothing like that.”

Steam clouded the surface of the teapot. For a long while, meaningless motions of tapping the handle or the strainer continued.

It was a sight that clearly revealed the confusion of not knowing where to start. Robert waited patiently for the next words, seeing his friend’s inability to steady his heart.

“The dream always begins with a scene of standing in a lush forest.”

This was the first sentence MacQueen Lester managed to utter after a long time.

“Shrubs and thickets that soar to the end of the sky block all directions in a dizzying mess. It was a space perfectly isolated from the world, where no one could enter, and no one could leave.”

The knuckles of the fingers surrounding the teacup twitched slightly. It was the prologue to a story he had not been able to tell anyone for the past few years. Phantasms of a dreamlike illusion appeared and disappeared repeatedly. MacQueen scanned the distant wall with a dreaming gaze.

“I was always with someone there.”

He had never dreamed of a pastoral life, even in a passing imagination. The quiet, desolate atmosphere felt foreign and uncomfortable to a man who had spent his entire life fighting fiercely for survival.

“I only ever looked at their back, but that person never once looked back at me. Their back looked so cold that whenever I took a step closer, I would always wake up.”

A faint smile melted into the corners of his firm lips.

The forest.

There, the memories of cold and hunger, a past where only evil remained, and the self-loathing and anguish felt while discarding conscience and morality did not exist. Only an endless expanse of green forest. Warm sunlight and wind, the scent of flowers and grass, and a silence so profound it was eerie—yet there was a sense of fulfillment and wholeness from being with someone.

Or perhaps, happiness.

“The dream doesn’t end there. When I fall asleep again, a horrific scene inevitably follows. Someone strangling that person. Sometimes wielding a weapon…”

The sound of a labored breath being swallowed passed through.

“…Even if I wanted to help, my body wouldn’t move a single step. Whether it was because of fear or because I was bound, I couldn’t budge. I’m not even sure if the person dying was me or someone else. However…”

Recalling the scenes of the dream he had had thousands of times, MacQueen eventually covered his face with both hands.

“In the end, I always flee from that place. Now, I don’t even know. Whether I am the observer, the one committing the violence, the one covered in blood… or someone I don’t know, or if the sins I’ve committed are appearing in human form, or whether it’s a dream or reality.”

“Lester…”

The back of his hand, where blue veins ran straight, trembled.

“…I cannot sleep.”

Despite the words craving an answer, Robert remained silent.

“No matter how much I stay up, sleep does not come, Robert.”

MacQueen muttered gloomily; the area under his eyes was hollow and his complexion dark. He looked as if all his confidence and poise had vanished. Robert, who had been repeatedly picking up and putting down a half-cooled teacup for a while, answered cautiously.

“It is because you are doing too much.”

“….”

“Haven’t you been devoted only to work for several years now? The accident you suffered in Northampton was by no means a light matter. You should have had ample time for recuperation and rehabilitation, but you’ve been running without a moment’s respite. After marrying Lady Elisha… once this term in Parliament ends, try to take some time to rest. It would be nice to travel lightly through Europe with her. It would be a good time for you both.”

Marriage. It was the topic he had heard most frequently and received the most interest in recently. MacQueen laughed desolately and buried his eyes in his rough palms.

“Still, you’ve held a certain affection for Lady Elisha, haven’t you? Though she is frail, she is a proper adult. Stop thinking of her as a substitute for your sister. Why not try to grow more fond of her, seeing her as your wife and a partner to share the rest of your life with?”

A red carpet fluttered before his eyes. Knowing it was an illusion, his pupils still followed the traces of the afterimage. A body gradually stiffening against his back on a night when even the moon had set, limp ginger curls, the sticky sensation of foreign matter and the stench. Until the accident in Northampton, the protagonist who dominated MacQueen’s nightmares was his young sister, who had breathed her last long ago.

“Yes. Affection. She is a truly pitiful and kind woman to be the daughter of that vile Duke of Devonshire.”

MacQueen let out a scoff and pressed his hand to his forehead. He found his own foolish situation laughable.

“I worked so sincerely for a long time to make this marriage happen. Of course, I feel affection. Much affection indeed…”

“MacQueen.”

The moment his friend spoke his name, MacQueen laughed desolately.

“MacQueen, yes… MacQueen. Haha, what a truly rootless name… it suits me perfectly.”

His straight shoulders shook several times. After laughing for a while, MacQueen wiped his wrinkled eyes and caught his breath.

“Yes, that’s right… Robert. The name that endured in those filthy back alleys. I stole the name of an immigrant who died miserably to climb this high, and now I don’t even know what I’m agonizing over.”

“Lester…”

“The only goal of this name is success.”

“….”

“Robert, I will never live a bottom-tier life again.”

Even as he poured out his materialistic heart without reserve, the self-loathing cast over his face did not disappear. Stopping his words for a moment, MacQueen gazed back into the void. His time of reflection grew long. It could have been described as hesitation.

“There is someone I truly hate.”

The ticking of the wardrobe clock was the only noise breaking the eerie silence.

“I hate them so terribly that…”

His lips, forced upward, twisted strangely.

The phantom of someone whose hair he hadn’t seen for months repeatedly appeared pathologically. A tiny, different emotion hidden beneath layers of a shell punctuated by resentment, hatred, contempt, and loathing.

“I cannot decide what to do with that person.”

Though it shouldn’t be possible, whenever he woke up, that fellow and the man in the dream continued to blur together. That was why he was afraid. He wondered if something had happened. MacQueen was unfamiliar with such useless worry. Every factor shaking his twisted heart was terrible. It was a variable that must never occur in his life.

“Is it someone who harmed you? If it’s someone you dislike, avoiding them is the best method, but if they are harmful enough, shouldn’t you take whatever means necessary?”

“…They are not such a person.”

“….”

“They are not that kind of person.”

At the repeated denial, Robert paused for a moment. Suddenly, a very faint hypothesis slowly crossed his mind.

“Lester.”

His voice was cautious yet heavy. Still, no answer returned.

“By any chance, is the person you just mentioned not Lady Elisha, but another woman?”

“….”

“Could it be that you have that woman in your heart…”

His rigid shoulders flinched for an instant. MacQueen’s eyes, visible between his palms, were clouded with shock. His gaze suggested that the words were utter rubbish.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

At the cold, stern reaction, Robert hurriedly waved his hand.

“If not, I apologize. I was thinking wildly on my own. I really… I’ve made a mistake with a man about to be married.”

An awkward atmosphere lingered over the table.

“Of course. That’s impossible. The only emotion I feel for that person is loathing.”

MacQueen added hastily.

“I hate them, and they are uncomfortable. Unpleasant and repulsive.”

It was a violent denial, but it was an affirmation in another sense. Far from denying it, his face looked wounded by the words he had just uttered.

“Lester…”

“Because you’re saying strange things.”

“….”

MacQueen hurriedly and clumsily rubbed his eyes. Robert, who had been observing every gesture, distorted his expression strangely.

“I only maintained a relationship for a while because they were useful.”

“….”

“That’s all. That’s all they are.”

It was an atmosphere where it was difficult to continue speaking. In the time they spent together yearning for success, the romantic relationships of MacQueen Lester, at least as Robert Higgins knew them, always operated through thorough calculation. In the short and light connections that passed through him, his friend had never once left any room for more.

The lady of the Lenzdoor family was no different. He had simply felt pity for her, saying she resembled the sister he lost long ago, so he regarded it as another form of affection, even if not love. Feeling an ominous vibe from his friend, who could not compose his anxiety at all, Robert spoke cautiously.

“Lester.”

MacQueen met his eyes without any particular answer. A troubled smile was faintly etched on Robert’s lips.

“If it is someone you truly hate, indifference is the answer. Even the time spent hating is a waste.”

“….”

“I don’t know who the person you’re talking about is… but try thinking about why you hate them so much. If the emotion you feel is truly only hatred.”

Coal and wood burned inside the white marble fireplace. Despite his nickname as the silver-tongued orator who gripped Westminster, MacQueen Lester’s mouth did not open easily as time passed.

“It is difficult for me to say anything to you easily. I just… hope you don’t make a choice that would hurt Lady Elisha. It is my personal opinion that I hope you consider the effort and time you put into this marriage. Even if it’s not just about that… isn’t Lady Elisha a good person? Do not do anything that would hurt her heart. You know the Duke of Devonshire is peculiar. I’m saying this for your sake.”

“….”

Amidst the slow exchange of heavy breaths, the gentle light of the fireplace shone upon his face.

“Even if there was something that shook you, steady your heart. As you said… did we not come this far, discarding even our roots and names? No matter what happens, you only need to not forget that time.”

“….”

“Once this banquet is over, it will soon be the wedding you’ve waited for so long.”

The shadows cast by the fire created a gloomy expression. The face watching the new flames cover the dying embers wavered greatly.

“…I should.”

Emotions filled to the limit were forcibly suppressed. Tension returned to the corners of his eyes, which had been slack with distress.

“I should.”

MacQueen repeated the same words again, as if making a vow to someone who was not there.

In two days, the largest banquet in London was scheduled to be held. Not only that, the number of reading societies scheduled afterward was hard to count. There was no leisure to waste time being captivated by emotions that brought no profit.

Still, I can see them.

The voice from the dream stimulated his consciousness again.

Still, can’t I meet that person again?

It was a temptation full of greed. An answer to the question never rose to the surface until the end.

In that place.

In that place.

MacQueen repeatedly poured out and pressed down the current of water that threatened the floodgates. So that it could never come out again. So that it could not tear down the tower he had built while harboring vain greed.

Very strongly, and desperately.

✧ ✧ ✧

Marriages between nobles were carried out in various forms and processes according to the authority and tradition of the family. Usually, the wedding took place shortly after a certain period following the engagement, but sometimes a banquet was held just before the wedding.

A pre-wedding banquet, usually reserved for marriages between families with long histories, was held for the adopted daughter of a ducal house and a young Member of Parliament from the gentry whose past was unknown. This fact signified that the Duke of Devonshire, the current Prime Minister of England, had a great interest in the two unions.

“How lavish.”

The eyes scanning the crowd filling the banquet hall were cold. As the man attempted to take off his coat, Calvin, who had arrived first and was waiting, stepped forward to stop him.

“It is still cold outside.”

“Forget it.”

Aaron responded coldly and followed the escorting servant toward the designated table.

“Brother.”

“Did I not tell you to mind your own business?”

“There is something I wish to say before we enter.”

At the unusually stubborn attitude, Aaron glared fiercely. Despite the sharp gaze, Calvin stubbornly blocked the way. He, too, had been held up in Nottinghamshire for a few days and had only returned to London in the early hours of the day of the banquet.

“I received a letter from the Russells a few days ago and went down to Nottinghamshire immediately to verify all the relationships. How can you handle such a matter alone? Did you instruct me to transfer the shares for this? You clearly said it was temporary…”

“Ah.”

Aaron gave a short snort and then turned his eyes toward where the people were gathered. He brushed aside his brother, who had insolently blocked his path, with a gesture and began walking again.

“It is not something for you to be involved in.”

“Brother, it makes no sense to handle this so arbitrarily. Let us go to the Segrave office together tomorrow. I will report to the Duke today.”

Despite the fairly firm reaction, his pace did not slow.

“Nonsense.”

“Brother!”

Calvin hurriedly followed. The black boots stepping boldly across the floor were relentless.

Hahaha—

The hall, a mixture of conversation and laughter, was extremely noisy. The steps weaving through the people gradually slowed down and then came to a complete halt.

“Calvin.”

A familiar, handsome face entered his field of vision. The man was surrounded by many people, continuing to respond skillfully. Perhaps the time spent deeply immersed in high society had not been meaningless, as his flamboyant appearance looked quite plausible.

“Let’s talk later.”

“Brother…”

Aaron raised his hand to stop Calvin, who was trying to take another step closer, and immediately turned around. It was a complete cutoff. A twisted emotion rained over the face gazing into the distance.

“How spirited.”

The tall man in evening dress, surrounded by nobles, was certainly someone he knew. To say they were in a relationship where they shared a bed and rubbed bare skin together until just a few months ago would be a closer and more explicit expression. From the man greeting the nobles while wearing a fairly excellent mask, no ruthlessness in dealing with political rivals by any means necessary could be felt.

“I should go greet that man for a moment. He personally invited me to this massive and tasteless party.”

“Brother, I will escort you.”

“Do not cling to me more than necessary.”

When irritation finally erupted, Calvin could no longer make demands and stopped in his tracks. At the sight of him looking clearly hurt, Aaron eventually sighed.

“I won’t leave you alone, so go attend to your business. I will come to you when I’m finished.”

“…Understood.”

“I’ll be back.”

After a brief silence, Aaron moved his steps again toward the protagonist of this ridiculous and trivial festival.

Even amidst the lavish music, the thumping sound of footsteps echoed exceptionally loud. Aaron knew that this sensation was highly abnormal and not reality. He was clearly aware that some part of his bodily senses had definitely gone awry recently.

The stimuli he felt in daily life were sometimes excessively vivid and sometimes excessively dull. The various painful symptoms resulting from withdrawal were more than enough to ruin his daily life. It was all thanks to the sincere gift that man had given him.

‘It was truly a time of nothing but deception.’

As the distance closed, the face of Baronet Anfield, MacQueen Lester, was engraved more clearly in his sight. He looked visibly pleased with the expectation that his status would soon rise.

Manly, sweeping eyebrows and eyes, the rounded corners of his lips, a high and sharp bridge of the nose. The tip of the gliding nose was slightly furrowed. Aaron knew well what that expression meant. It was a habit that appeared when putting lies to his lips to deceive the opponent.

‘Truly…’

His cold fingertips moved unnaturally.

The hand that had let go of the carving knife long ago could no longer create any work. Perhaps it was a hand more suited for destruction than creation from the start.

‘Truly foolish…’

He had doubted endlessly, but on the other hand, he had hoped it might be true.

He believed the eyes looking at him were filled with confusion. Because your greenery wavered, trying to find some trace of me. Because since the reunion, you had always looked at me with a face that seemed cracked somewhere.

“The scale of the struggle must have been quite noisy. Thanks to that, the opinion that Sir Lester’s challenge over the past few years has been a success is already prevailing, is it not?”

“No, to push forward immediately, the Duke of Devonshire would likely…”

…Yes. Just like now.

Did you not act out unstable emotions so perfectly?

“….”

“….”

Aaron calmly gazed at the man who had frozen in place upon discovering him. The eyes that met his were clouded with shock beyond mere surprise.

In an instant, the surroundings became silent, and only two people remained in the vast central hall. In a cheap comedy without a single audience member, the dog of the hut was concentrating on every small movement, lest he lose his master. The gaze that delved in detail was like a well-trained hound.

“Please excuse me for a moment.”

After standing in silence for a while, MacQueen asked for the other’s understanding and hurriedly left the spot. His steps toward where Aaron Wizfeldon stood were wide and hasty. The distance closed in an instant.

“…You’ve come, Earl. It has been a long time.”

MacQueen quickly stood before him and offered a handshake. Beneath the neatly combed hair, his sculpted, handsome and sharp features were fully revealed.

“A handshake.”

“….”

The gaze looking down at the hand extended before him sank calmly.

“Oh dear.”

Realizing that the other party had no intention of shaking hands even as time passed, MacQueen withdrew his hand, laughing as if embarrassed. He was maintaining a near-perfect level of courtesy, but the stiffened face and exaggerated smile were extremely unnatural.

No one spoke to him directly, but the attention of the nobles in the room converged in one place. The interest held in their gazes—watching an incongruous pairing of men standing on opposite political sides—was remarkably blatant.

MacQueen took another step toward Aaron, who remained silent. Despite it being only a single step, the surrounding noise was instantly shut out. He gave a cursory glance around and continued his greeting with an impassive face.

“I heard your health had been poor. Lately, Sir Caliven Wizfieldon has been seen frequently in the Parliament in your stead, Earl.”

“…….”

“You must be preoccupied with the preparations for your engagement soon, so thank you for attending my banquet. I received the invitation you sent. I shall attend with my fiancée as well.”

Every word and sentence the dog barked resembled a sharp spear.

“……Do so.”

Aaron nodded silently. He skillfully suppressed the murderous intent—the urge to tear apart the seemingly relaxed dog and drive a bullet straight into the center of his forehead.

“I cannot stay long, but I am glad I could offer my congratulations, if only for a moment.”

“I was actually a bit surprised that you would come.”

“I heard you were marrying.”

“……Yes. Though late. It seems I shall hold my wedding sooner than you, Earl.”

There was no hesitation in the short addition. There was no longer any effort to spout lies.

“…….”

Aaron gazed silently at the man who didn’t even attempt an excuse. Just by looking, a foul-smelling liquid rose to the brim of his forehead. The water, which had stagnated and rotted for so long, smelled so pungent that his lungs felt as if they would decay with a single breath. A musty, damp stench. The identity of the smell was a phantom scent. Realizing he was gradually losing his mind, Aaron laughed softly.

“Indeed. Did you not say you had been engaged for several years? I came out of curiosity to see what kind of magnificent wedding would require a pre-wedding banquet.”

“There are several reasons, but things proceeded unexpectedly. I regret that I could not inform the Earl in advance. There was simply no way to reach you.”

“It doesn’t seem so.”

“It pains me that you do not believe me. You only just told me that you wanted to trust me.”

“Did I say such a thing? Well, perhaps my memory is poor due to the opium.”

“Did you take opium again?”

In the sharp exchange, it was MacQueen who faltered first. His composure crumbled quickly, as if the nonchalance he had shown until now had been a lie. With an anxious face, he took another step forward. The distance narrowed further. Depending on the other’s response, he looked as if he might bolt out of the room with him this instant.

“Perhaps.”

Regardless of his agitation, the other remained utterly calm. Unable to maintain his effortless act any longer, MacQueen bared his fierce teeth.

“……Where on earth have you been all this time?”

The air turned cold in an instant, and his eyes flashed violently. MacQueen leaned in and whispered in an even lower tone.

“I went to Pellington Hall. I sent you letters time and again……”

The words spoken with desperation slowed down and then came to a complete halt. MacQueen’s expression stiffened rapidly as he discovered something.

“…….”

His green eyes moved quickly, trying to confirm what he was seeing. Watching the sudden change, Aaron observed him as if looking at an amusing toy.

“……What happened to your face?”

Forgetting his purpose of keeping his voice low lest someone overhear, MacQueen unconsciously revealed his anger without restraint. The gaze staring at the scars scattered across Aaron’s face resembled a murderous intent.

“…….”

Caught off guard by the unexpected reaction, Aaron could not answer.

“Why is your face like this?”

They were covered enough that one wouldn’t notice without looking closely, but it was impossible to hide them from his eyes. Faint bruises remained here and there on the pallid face, and there were even torn scar marks. The wounds were more vivid and severe toward the head. The green pupils dilated to their limit upon confirming the small scars on the translucently white face.

“The wounds, the wounds are……”

“…….”

“……Are you hurt? Who… who on earth did this?”

The way he stammered was more ridiculous than a cheap play. Aaron fought the urge to push that brazen face away and took a step back.

“I enjoyed the tea the Baronet gifted me.”

At the answer that had nothing to do with the context, confusion clouded the deep green eyes. Distressed by the increased distance, MacQueen stepped forward again in one breath.

“……I don’t know why you are suddenly bringing that up. Answer me now. Why is your face like this? Do not tell me some nonsense about falling. Tell me right now who did this. Who is it? Who on earth……”

The dog’s questions were incoherent.

His focus wavered, and his tone rose and fell erratically. It was truly a fantastic performance.

His intention to evade by pretending not to know was clear. Aaron laughed weakly, chewing over the emotions he had murdered and buried.

“There is no need for you to know.”

“What do you mean there is no need? Who would dare to……”

“I almost ended up going to Saint Louis again.”

“……Saint Louis?”

MacQueen frowned, asking what he meant. It was a truly wicked and brazen expression. Aaron slowly brushed his bloodless lips.

“I was well aware that you had people following me and digging into my business, but I didn’t know you would mix so many drugs into the tea leaves.”

“What is this…… drugs?”

“Your acting is superb, Baronet.”

“Tea leaves? You’re saying tea leaves right now……”

Avoiding the man who approached him with a vacant face, Aaron took another step back. The corners of his coldly laughing eyes dipped further.

“Do not come too close. I never know when my madness might flare up again. It wouldn’t do for a commotion to break out at such a grand banquet, would it?”

“Please tell me properly. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Despite the distance of only a few steps, MacQueen could not contain himself and lunged forward. It was a haste unthinkable for someone who, until a moment ago, had been conscious of their surroundings. Aaron’s gaze was cold as he looked down at the hand gripping him painfully.

“It would have been better if you had known when to stop.”

“I don’t know what misunderstanding this is, but……”

“I couldn’t even confirm exactly how many things were mixed in or what exactly was in there. Ah, but I did find out one thing.”

“Aaron, what is this……”

“Opium was mixed in.”

“Opium……”

MacQueen’s attempt to step closer was blocked by the following words.

“I didn’t know you would resort to such filthy tricks. I never imagined you would gift drugs while offering your own body.”

It was a criticism so scathing it felt humiliating. While not entirely incorrect, there was a clear error in the statement. Before he could even feel offended by the expression of selling his body, MacQueen raised his hand to touch the other’s bloodless cheek.

“There is a part you are misunderstanding. That cannot be, so please listen to me first.”

His vocal cords, feeling like shifting grains of sand, were rough. The mind that had planned countless conspiracies and plots had long since gone blank. MacQueen repeated the same words over and over, as if he had become a fool.

“It really isn’t so. The tea leaves were really not me. Absolutely not in that amount……”

“The amount of tea leaves?”

Noticing the loophole in the pouring excuses, Aaron burst into a hollow laugh. Only then did MacQueen realize his slip of the tongue and quickly corrected himself.

“It’s a misunderstanding. That’s not what I meant……”

“I wonder what amount you are referring to.”

“…….”

“I suppose this wasn’t the first time.”

It was a cold tone that left no room for doubt. MacQueen felt an urgency he had never experienced in his life. The man’s trust was ending. Anxiety and fear surged into his chest like waves. The pounding of his heart resembled terror.

He needed time to think.

Time to make some kind of excuse……

Under the fiercely driving attack, MacQueen revealed his defenseless inner thoughts.

“I will explain everything, so please just wait a moment. I will wrap this up quickly. If you just wait a moment……”

His stammering words laid bare his collapsing confusion.

Aaron looked directly at the man engulfed in chaos. It was a straight and pure gaze, as if wanting to stare directly at the filthy desires hidden in the deepest part of the heart.

“That’s enough.”

A hand in a white glove brushed back his hair. That’s enough. The voice whispering again was calm. Aaron Wizfeldon’s expression as he spoke plainly was extremely peaceful, yet on the other hand, he looked utterly exhausted and precarious. Swallowing the violently rising heat, MacQueen hurriedly spat out a cheap excuse.

“The tea leaves are truly a frame-up. The other parts…… I will explain.”

“Did I not say that’s enough?”

“Because I’ll explain……”

The word ‘please’ could not bring itself to come out. Mocking that clumsy and cowardly defense, Aaron turned away coldly.

“Aaron!”

MacQueen hurriedly followed and grabbed Aaron’s shoulder. In the eyes that met again, a fierce murderous intent swirled.

“Shut up.”

“Aaron……”

“If you utter that name once more, I swear on everything I have, I will not let you be.”

“I am.”

“Let go.”

There was no more mercy. Aaron quietly brushed away the large hand obstructing his path and pointed to the group of nobles gathered behind them.

“Go on. There are many people looking for the Baronet.”

Following the elegant fingertip, MacQueen slowly shifted his gaze.

“Everyone is waiting for you.”

“…….”

The nobles in his sight were smiling gloomily, waiting for the interesting news the host of the party would bring. To the accompaniment of the orchestra, the dizzying scent of perfume and cheerful laughter echoed through the hall.

“Are these not the people you longed so much to be with?”

MacQueen’s expression gradually stiffened as he scanned the curiosity-filled eyes. It was the world he had joined and enjoyed until just a moment ago. The group he had yearned to belong to for so long, even to the point of entering a heartless marriage. It was also the high-society world that the wretched boy, who had run through the filthy back alleys of Camden Town carrying his breathless sister on his back, had so desperately desired.

“……Wait.”

Toward the man who had already completely turned his back, MacQueen Lester whispered with a desperation he himself didn’t realize.

“Please wait.”

A cruel sneer returned, but MacQueen persisted in his plea.

“There is a balcony once you go out. I will finish up and come out, so just…… please wait. I will follow you immediately. I’ll come out immediately, so……”

His lips trembled as he spoke. This was someone he had barely reunited with after several months. He could not let him go like this.

“…….”

However, Aaron regarded it as disgusting cowardice and turned away heartlessly with a cold laugh. No excuse or begging could hold him back.

Footsteps echoed low in the silence-filled main lobby. There was not a single tremor in his movement, which headed only forward. Servants who happened to encounter him bowed politely, avoiding any possibility of an accident.

Along the gallery road, most of the paintings decorating one wall were masterpieces whose artists could be identified by style alone. Between the sculptures and masterpieces lined up along the inner walls of the building, Aaron stopped in his tracks at a sudden thought.

“I shall come to you once my business is finished.”

“……Good grief.”

His eyebrows furrowed with a grumpy groan. Aaron thought of Caliven, who had silently guarded his back without even a meager attempt at rebellion. Normally, he would have ignored him and gone, but recalling how Caliven had been desperately anxious throughout their entry into the mansion, he couldn’t easily bring himself to walk away. It was irritating, but his deliberation wasn’t long. It was the moment he turned around to go back.

“Are you lost?”

It was a soft and kind voice. Aaron stopped and only turned his gaze toward the sound.

“I thought you might be lost…… I’m sorry, but I followed you.”

A woman in a white dress stood at the entrance of the gallery, a few steps away. Her appearance was striking, but it was evident at a glance that her complexion was poor and she possessed a frail, sickly aura.

“This is the Long Gallery. The banquet hall is in the opposite direction.”

The face speaking cautiously with a shy smile was familiar. Looking at the sun-red hair, Aaron searched his memory for a moment and then swallowed a heavy breath as a certain scene came to mind.

Elisha.

Elisha Lenzdoor.

Just reciting the name made his throat hot, as if swallowing fire. He soon returned to an expressionless face and gave a short nod of his chin.

“Thank you for letting me know, but I was in the banquet hall until a moment ago, so I already know the way.”

His eyes, hiding all emotion, shone coldly. Aaron immediately averted his gaze from the woman. Normally, he would have forced some manner, but since it was her, it was burdensome to even hide his twisted mood.

“Oh my……”

When the cold answer returned, Elisha couldn’t hide her awkwardness and her cheeks flushed.

“There are passages that branch off between the lobbies leading to the banquet hall, so I thought you might be lost.”

“I will find my way, so the Lady should go where she intended.”

“Ah, um……”

It was an attempt to continue a completely useless conversation. Elisha, unable to perceive the other’s unpleasantness, smiled brightly and tilted her cheek.

“I committed a discourtesy some time ago.”

“……A discourtesy?”

“You might not remember…… but at the ball last year.”

“Ah.”

Aaron inferred the situation omitted from the woman’s words and his expression stiffened.

“I was so surprised then that I couldn’t even give the Earl a proper apology. It has weighed on my mind since then. I didn’t know I would see you today, but……”

“…….”

For the daughter of a ducal house, her tone was somewhat out of step with etiquette. Compared to other women of society, she was somewhat clumsy, but since no malice was felt, Aaron chose to remain silent.

“Would you forgive my discourtesy? I was worried that friction might have arisen between my fiancé and the Earl because of me. He is not the type to tell me such things.”

Despite not receiving proper feedback, the woman responded with a shy smile whenever their eyes met. Though her sickly pallor was deep, she had a gentle impression. She possessed a loveliness that anyone would find favorable and easily open their heart to. Furthermore, her friendly attitude toward someone in opposition to her own family indicated that she was either ignorant of or had little interest in social politics.

After observing the woman for a moment, Aaron answered curtly.

“There was nothing to worry about.”

“I am glad to hear that, then.”

Suddenly, past memories flashed by faster than a flowing river.

“Since a cooperative relationship remains with the Duke of Devonshire, I have been hiding it, but in reality, Lady Elisha and I are practically broken off.”

“Regardless of the circumstances, I hope you will trust me. You said you put people on me. You are more than welcome to do so. In consultation with the Duke of Devonshire, I have already been adjusting the timing of the breakup with Lady Elisha.”

A serious expression, a desperate voice.

The eyes staring back were so honest and confident that, even while knowing it was a blatant lie, he had been fooled again. Under the excuse that it was a calculated strategy. Not knowing that pride would burn him to death.

His tightly closed lips turned white. Aaron breathed slowly and deeply, composing his breath. His firmly closed eyes did not easily reveal his inner thoughts, as they mirrored the weight he had to bear.

It was now time to end this meaningless conversation.

“I also spoke inappropriately to you, so I hope you will forgive me. If there is no further business, I shall be on my way.”

At his attitude of wanting to leave the Long Gallery immediately, Elisha could not resist the impulse and continued.

“Um……”

“What other business is there?”

At the sign of the conversation continuing, Aaron revealed his displeasure blatantly. Elisha was startled by the coldness she was experiencing for the first time, but she squeezed out her last bit of courage to show a piece of her heart to the other.

“If you are not heading straight back into the banquet hall…… as a way of apologizing, would it be alright if I guided the Earl through the gallery?”

It was a bold proposal, enough to surprise both the one who spoke it and the one who received it.

“…….”

Avoiding the gaze that scanned her as if appraising a strange object, Elisha hid her reddened cheeks. If she faced those deep blue eyes any longer, she feared her hidden feelings might be discovered.

‘Will he think I’m strange?’

Even though it was only once, and for only a brief moment, he was someone who had remained exceptionally vivid in her memory. She hadn’t even crossed paths with that man since then, but a strange lingering regret had always remained in a corner of her heart. After seeing him leave the banquet hall with a troubled expression following a conversation with her fiancé, she had followed the young Earl’s back without even thinking.

The claim that she had lost her way was nothing more than an excuse. Elisha smiled shyly, embarrassed by the emotions that had driven her to commit such a transgression.

“I, I mean… it’s not that… it’s just that all the paintings on display here are wonderful. Of course, the Earl must have seen far better works, but…”

Despite his lack of reaction, Elisha continued to clear her throat repeatedly, her eyes scanning the lobby where paintings and sculptures were lined up in a flurry of nervousness. Her movements stopped only after she spotted a certain painting hanging on a corner wall. Pure joy blossomed across her delicate features.

“Ah… I purchased an interesting painting recently; I wonder if you’ve seen it? It wasn’t painted by a famous artist, though.”

Aaron shifted his gaze indifferently toward where the woman pointed.

“I bought it by chance while out in the city of London. It was originally hanging in the Wales estate, but when I came to London this time, my father brought all of my collection up with him. Thanks to that, I was able to hang this painting here.”

“…….”

“Actually, it’s not of a level that deserves to be hung here, but I insisted. I cherish this painting very much. My father eventually gave in and allowed it.”

Someone’s breath hitched. Unlike the many masterpieces decorating the gallery, the painting the woman pointed to was small and the brushwork was crude. The painting was trapped behind a glass pane in an ornate frame—a decoration so grand it was almost comical considering the quality of the work.

“There’s a funny story behind it, too. At first, when I said the painting was pretty, my fiancé scoffed and asked why I was interested in such a thing. But when the shopkeeper said he wouldn’t sell it, my fiancé kept raising the price and ended up buying it for an absurd amount. I truly felt like I was watching an auction. And do you know how much it cost? A whopping five thousand pounds.”

“…….”

Realizing that the handsome and magnificent Earl’s interest was fixed on the painting she had chosen, Elisha continued happily, her heart fluttering.

“It’s an unfinished work, and there are damaged areas where it wasn’t painted, so I had it covered with a glass shield. With the shield, the lighting hides the lacking parts well. Since it wasn’t a finished piece, my father wasn’t fond of hanging it here. It’s small, and he said it should be placed in a corner, so you have no idea how much I pleaded. But look. Isn’t the hair color so beautiful? I have red hair too, but there’s no comparison…”

Her words, whispered like a small bird, did not reach their end. Feeling a sense of strangeness at the prolonged silence, she turned around, only to find a man staring at the painting with eyes taut with murderous intent.

“Um…”

The emotion contained in that absorbed gaze was closer to hatred than mere anger.

Every emotion bled into his dilated pupils. Rage, shock, hatred, and disillusionment.

His two hands, which had lost their strength, began to tremble again.

“Um… Earl?”

Despite her concerned call, Aaron remained silent. After a moment, with eyes as if possessed by something, he reached out toward a memory lost long ago.

“Earl, are you perhaps feeling unwell…”

Thud!

“Kyaak!”

The woman, who had tried to approach the pale man, recoiled from the impact of being violently pushed away. With a face that suggested he didn’t care about the rough action he had just committed, Aaron walked into the gallery space and finally tore the painting from the wall.

“E-Earl…”

The air turned freezing cold, rolling across the floor. Aaron glanced at Elisha, who was trembling piteously, before turning his eyes back to the painting.

“…….”

Despite being enclosed on all sides, there was an illusion of a biting wind blowing.

“Master.”

“Aaron, Aaron…”

At some point, it became difficult to distinguish reality from hallucination. Aaron dismissed the auditory hallucinations cluttering his mind and traced the ornate frame with his hand. His lonely fingertips passed the frame and reached the painting.

Evidence of a memory faded and burned away. A painting done with cheap paints on a cheap canvas had been trapped behind a thick glass barrier, transforming into something that looked plausible.

“So you were here.”

The whispering voice was filled with ecstasy.

It also contained the time and memories that someone had to bear entirely alone.

All that remained was a half-painted background and red hair. No one but the artist could tell who the partially revealed face belonged to.

Perhaps only I will know.

Forever.

Only I, while no one else does.

“You were here.”

Tracing the unpainted areas, Aaron smiled. His cheeks trembled pathetically, and the corners of his eyes and jaw stiffened.

“……You were trapped here.”

A form that only I know, only I remember, and only I have left.

He knew of no more perfect isolation in his life than this.

I must destroy it.

His golden eyelashes fluttered noisily as he looked down. In the face of the man’s eerily calm state amidst the storm, Elisha could say nothing and merely shivered.

“Lady Elisha Lenzdoor.”

Aaron called her quietly. Her terrified sobbing grew louder.

It must be destroyed. Since it has no meaning.

As a cruel pleasure was etched like a tattoo into every syllable, the grip on the frame tightened. Forced-in emotions and memories surged.

“I am sorry, but this painting has an owner.”

“What? E-Earl… that’s…”

Neither the wet, sobbing voice nor the pitiful whimpering could evoke any emotion in him.

“This is my property.”

After circling around, it had returned to him.

The implication of that fact was a perfect end.

“……It is dangerous, so step back.”

“E-Earl…”

The hesitation was brief. Aaron scanned his surroundings for a moment, realized he didn’t have the tool he wanted, and simply threw the frame with all his might onto the marble floor. It was a strike of incredible speed, devoid of hesitation.

Crash—!

“Kyaaaak!”

Startled by the sudden eccentricity, Elisha recoiled in panic. The glass of the frame shattered with a tremendous noise. As the scream echoed, the household servants, finally realizing something was wrong, rushed toward the gallery one by one. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed throughout the lobby along with a low murmur.

“…….”

With a serene expression, as if he could see nothing and hear nothing, Aaron walked toward the scattered shards.

“……Hmm.”

After examining the wreckage of the frame for a while, he picked up the largest shard of glass. His eyes curved mischievously as he stared at the sharp edge of the fragment.

“E-Earl…”

At the frail voice behind him, Aaron finally glanced at where Elisha had collapsed. The woman was sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for air, but there was no longer any mercy in the gaze he cast upon her.

“I have no regrets toward you.”

Muttering calmly, Aaron took out his outer gloves. They were gloves Bernard had forced him to take, worrying about the cold weather before he boarded the carriage. Made for winter, they were thick inside and made of durable cowhide on the outside, making them quite useful.

Aaron put the leather gloves over the white indoor gloves he was wearing. Then, after catching his breath for a moment, he knelt on one knee before the painting, holding the glass shard.

“…….”

His fingertips were calm as they traced the bumpy surface where the paint had dried. He drew a long line with his hand, as if gauging a path along the red hair in the painting.

“On the contrary, I ought to apologize.”

There was no sincerity in the apathetically muttered apology. His cold gaze remained fixed solely on the old, mangled painting.

He was a brazen human being.

He did not know how to apologize with all his heart, nor did he know how to bow his head to others. He had been taught and had lived that way his entire life. It was a life where it was natural to look down on others and keep them beneath his feet; rather than admitting a mistake or apologizing, he had only learned how to erase from the world those who knew his shame.

That is why I rolled around with your fiancé, mixed my body with his, and craved him without knowing shame.

Because he was my dog.

I considered those feelings my property as well.

Like a demon blinded by desire, unable to distinguish reality, driven mad by a sweet poison.

“I am sorry.”

With that hollow apology, Aaron fell completely silent.

“…….”

After taking a few more slow breaths, Aaron finally raised the hand gripping the glass shard high. Then, without hesitation, he drove the shard quickly and deeply into the center of the painting. With a crunching sound, the man in the painting was hideously gouged by the fragment.

“Earl!”

Ignoring the scream of horror, Aaron clenched his teeth and applied more strength to his hand. The cheap canvas made a gruesome sound as it pushed inward, further and further, avoiding the shard. It was a ruthless attack, intended to leave not even a trace.

“I love you.”

A confession that toyed with the soul burrowed deep into his ears. Aaron grit his teeth against the terrible pain, as if a thin, long blade were carving out his entire ear.

Riiiiiip—

The tough fabric tore several times along the long vertical line. The edges of the cut were jagged, as if torn away. The hideously divided half was immediately split in half again, and then half again, gaping and ripping apart.

“I truly love you.”

Carefully brushing the hair back, the dog kissed his forehead and cheeks repeatedly with a fairly docile expression. The sensation of stroking the nape of the neck and the earlobes was piteously tender and cautious. At that moment, another whisper invaded his mind.

“I like you.”

The clock hands turned back to a slightly more distant past.

The curled-up memory stretched. It was the time when that foolish dog truly belonged to him.

The confession was the same, but the emotion was different. The hue was different, and the form was different.

As if reflecting the passage of time, a new red color covered the painting over the red paint that had grown slightly darker than when it was first applied. It was paint made from dark red blood.

The brilliant season had ended.

Even the flowers in full bloom were now time to wither.

Poppies were flowers that ruined a person’s life. The fruit of such a beautiful flower was, in the end, a narcotic.

You changed.

Faded emotions were right to be burned and buried.

“Kyaak! Earl, the b-blood…”

Following the force of the heavy strikes, the figure in the painting lost its original form. Like a memory that vanished without a trace. Thump— rip— Cruelly gruesome noises replaced conversation.

The hair, which held the hot sun and scattering red petals of a summer day, was hideously overpainted with blood that seeped through the gloves and flowed across his palm. It should have been painful, but it was hard to find even a small frown on his cold face. The faintly sketched shoulders and back were also pierced and torn by the sharp glass blade, leaving the surrounding fabric in tatters.

“Earl, E-Earl, what to do, the blood, the blood…”

Ignoring the sobbing, the ruthless destruction continued.

I must tear it to shreds.

I must burn it to a crisp.

As if it never existed in the first place.

As if I never once possessed it.

“I like you. Sincerely.”

Because it was not mine to begin with.

“Please don’t do this, Earl. Hic, the blood, the blood is too…”

The gloves, unable to withstand the repeated motions of stabbing and slashing with all his might, tore completely. Dark red blood flowed endlessly, staining the painting and the floor. Unable to bear the horrific scene, Elisha finally covered her face and wailed.

“Hic, the blood, the blood… ugh, ugh.”

Following the blood flowing over the glass, Elisha crawled toward the gallery entrance. Her frail body, unable to withstand the sight of the madman and the terror, shook with irregular breaths. Her heart, failing to function properly, beat intermittently. It was a precarious pulse. Shallow breaths poured out from between her bloodless lips. At that moment, servants rushed into the gallery corridor.

“Miss!”

The old butler, who had run in first, supported Elisha. The woman, who had been sobbing to the point of fainting, pointed with a trembling hand toward Aaron, who was tearing the painting. Hee-ik, hik. Keok. Bizarre breathing sounds, unable to catch a proper breath, burst out repeatedly.

“M-my god. Earl Vispilt, what on earth is this…”

“Quickly, stop the Earl, stop the Earl, the blood, the blood…”

Unable to finish her sentence, Elisha, unable to bear the extreme surge of anxiety, fainted on the spot.

“Miss, Miss!”

As Elisha went limp in his arms, the old butler shouted to the attendant who had come with him.

“Call Doctor Jackson immediately and inform the Duke of Devonshire and Baronet Enfield of the situation! Block the gallery entrance at once and let no one in except those two. You two, protect Earl Vispilt immediately!”

Following the immediate shout, two sturdy servants rushed forward to stop Aaron.

“Earl!”

Regardless of the commotion happening before his eyes, his madness-covered mind was fixed solely on the painting, now so ruined that its form was unrecognizable. Even though one hand was drenched in blood, his eyes showed no sign of feeling any pain.

“How surprising it was when the announcement was made! I doubted several times if this was the Duke of Devonshire I knew.”

“It was a conclusion reached after much deliberation. I, too, am grateful.”

“We all, just as we were, through marriage…”

While responding appropriately to the questions, MacQuan’s mind was entirely elsewhere. His fingertips rubbing his glass were full of agitation. Contrary to his plan to wrap things up and leave quickly, he was being held back by persistent snakes, and time was slipping away helplessly.

MacQuan clicked his tongue in annoyance and repeatedly glanced at a spot a few paces away. On one side of the hall, the Duke of Devonshire and Caliven Wisfield were in the middle of conversations with different groups.

Since Caliven Wisfield is here… he must still be in the mansion.

The deeper his thoughts grew, the more his mind shook chaotically. The afterimage of the man who had turned his back and left coldly would not leave him. The act of breathing was almost painful. While distractedly attending to the guests, all his attention was focused on the second son of the Cornwall family, his last bastion.

He really has returned…

The bitter taste of alcohol lingered on the tip of his tongue. That man, Aaron Wizfeldon, had truly returned to London. Within his sight, within his reach.

However, there was clearly something strange.

His condition was, even by generous standards, not good. Scars were visible across his sharp-lined face.

Was there an accident?

The hypothesis lasted only a moment before MacQuan reached a clean conclusion.

No, these are marks of violence.

They were clearly wounds from being beaten. No matter how expensive the suit and accessories used to dress him up, it was impossible to erase all the evidence of such numerous scars. If his face was in that state, it was not difficult to deduce the condition of his unseen body.

Until he succeeded as a businessman, MacQuan had experienced countless things in the back alleys. There was no way someone like him would fail to distinguish wounds caused by assault. No matter how forcibly they were hidden, they could not escape his eyes.

He was hurt too much.

Far too much.

Who dared, who dared to do this to the heir of a Grand Ducal house…

Hatred toward an opponent whose name he didn’t even know painted the world before MacQuan’s eyes in pitch black. Someone had clearly inflicted violence upon that man. They had laid hands on that face, that body. He had to find them and tear them to pieces. Knowing it was an irrational rage, MacQuan could not stop his cruel thoughts. It was then that his awkwardly moving hand tightened unconsciously.

As the doors to the banquet hall entrance opened far away, a butler and an assistant butler, both pale-faced, entered together.

“……?”

Though they were pretending to be composed, their rigid expressions and gestures were clearly different from usual.

The old butler who entered the hall headed straight for the Duke of Devonshire, while the assistant butler walked toward MacQuan. Their steps were extremely urgent, and their expressions were filled with chaos. Sensing that some accident had occurred, MacQuan naturally wrapped up the conversation.

“Sir Roderick, I apologize for interrupting. I must step away for a moment with the Duke of Devonshire for a check. Please forgive my rudeness.”

“Of course. I shall be waiting, so take your time.”

Reading the signal sent by the assistant butler, MacQuan asked for the other’s understanding and stepped back from the group. The completely frozen expression and atmosphere of the assistant butler signaled that this was by no means good news.

“What is the matter?”

“Sir Lester.”

The assistant butler, who had approached his side, quietly reported the situation.

“Earl Vispilt has caused a disturbance, and an accident has occurred involving Lady Elisha. We have immediately blocked the entrance to the Long Gallery to avoid public eyes and separated the Earl from the young lady.”

It was a rapid whisper.

Vispilt, Elisha, accident.

Not immediately grasping the assistant butler’s words, MacQuan asked back with a somewhat vacant expression.

“……Earl Vispilt?”

“Yes.”

“Are you referring to Sir Aaron Wizfeldon of Cornwall?”

Aaron.

Aaron Wizfeldon.

It was a foolish question. A cold chill plunged down to the tips of his toes. His tone, asking repeatedly, was unusually shaken and rough.

“Yes, that is correct. You must come quickly.”

“……This is maddening.”

MacQuan muttered, his expression darkening in an instant. The Duke of Devonshire, who had received the news first, was already exiting the hall, his face pale with shock.

‘Another accident, unable to hold out even for that short while…’

Watching the panicked figure retreat, MacQuan realized that covering this up would be impossible. He barely suppressed a surge of despair and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Lead the way immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

A wave of dizziness washed over him, and his vision blurred. He bit his lip so hard it nearly tore, but a coarse curse escaped him nonetheless.

‘Insane bastard.’

His black shoes left aimless prints upon the marble floor etched with ornate marbling. Anxiety rose to the very tip of his chin.

‘If he had just waited a little longer.’

The hollow expression on Aaron Wizfeldon’s face from the last time they met flickered before his eyes. Should he have offered some kind of excuse? But he had been furious at the man’s attitude—speaking as if nothing had happened after disappearing for months without a single word. The absurd claim that opium had been mixed into the tea made MacQuan wonder if Aaron had just come from smoking opium himself.

“Madman.”

Opium.

Yes, opium.

Could it be… had that lunatic actually been using opium?

“What an absolute degenerate.”

Intoxicated by confusion, his body swayed several times. MacQuan regained his balance and followed behind the under-butler. A black mass, resembling the plague that had led his younger sibling to death, crowded his mind.

“Completely mad. Why couldn’t he endure just that brief moment…”

Yes, he must have been unable to judge right from wrong due to the drug. Since opium destroys the mind, it might have swallowed every bit of that man’s brilliant intellect. He could simply explain it that way to the Duke of Devonshire.

The sound of footsteps echoing through the lobby was unusually vivid. It was a noise so loud it was unpleasant. MacQuan fought the urge to cover his ears and stared straight ahead. Despite not having taken any opium, his head spun and a cold sweat broke out. The few yards leading to the Long Gallery felt agonizingly distant. Clenching and unclenching his fists to warm his frozen fingertips, MacQuan reached the entrance of the Long Gallery in one breath.

“…….”

The Duke of Devonshire seemed unable to bring himself to open the door; he was barely holding onto the knob, supported by others. The news that his most cherished daughter had been involved in an accident while with the most notorious libertine in London was enough to turn the leader of the Whig Party into an ordinary, devastated father.

“Duke of Devonshire.”

No answer came from the man. Approaching him, MacQuan let out a deep sigh and instructed the butler.

“Assist the Duke inside.”

“Understood.”

The door, carved with nine angels, was shut tight, as if to perfectly conceal the events that had transpired within. Like the Duke of Devonshire, MacQuan hesitated to grasp the knob and swallowed hard. His heart hammered violently against his ribs.

“Open the door.”

Creeeeeak—

The door opened slowly under the servants’ hands.

“E-Elisha…”

At the sight of the carnage finally revealed, the Duke of Devonshire collapsed on the spot. Upon confirming the arrival of the two men, a servant quickly closed the door, sealing the gallery off from the outside.

“My God. What in the…”

His steps toward the gathered crowd were heavy and slow, like blocks of iron. On one side, Elisha lay unconscious on a makeshift bed; on the other, a fierce, blood-soaked man sat on the floor, bound by the servants. Amidst the chaotic scene, only one person entered MacQuan’s field of vision. The man looked like a captured wild bird.

“I have sent the fastest carriage to Dr. Jackson’s residence. The doctor previously instructed that if the young lady lost consciousness, we should avoid moving her and instead keep her limbs warm and apply strong pressure near the heart, so we have performed those measures. However, her breathing is very weak.”

The old butler gave a brief report of the situation. This was out of an expectation that the young Baronet, who still possessed his reason, would organize the situation better than the completely distraught Duke of Devonshire. The faces of those managing the commotion were drenched in cold sweat.

“The people.”

The voice flowing through his throat was extremely raspy.

“Who knows about this situation?”

“Only myself and the servants in this room. We sealed the exits immediately after assessing the situation, so no one outside the manor is aware.”

“Good work. Prepare everything perfectly so that measures can be taken as soon as Dr. Jackson arrives. And please bring a glass of cold water to the Duke of Devonshire.”

“Understood.”

Giving the orders with a weary face, MacQuan walked toward the man still held by the servants.

The area around Aaron Wizfeldon was littered with glass shards. Both of his gloves were torn and soaked in blood. Then, a completely ruined painting entered his sight. That painting—now barely recognizable—was one he had purchased at an absurd price from an old art shop in London.

Why that painting…

“…….”

Even a few steps felt like an immense distance. As a headache surged, MacQuan pressed his palm against the right side of his head. His long fingertips trembled, losing control. He grit his teeth again and moved forward slowly. As he drew closer, the other man’s condition became more starkly apparent.

A face as pale as a corpse.

Hands.

Bleeding hands.

As he swallowed, his esophagus felt scorched.

Not the hands.

The hands…

A bright red ember burned away his vocal cords.

“…Are you insane?”

Hands, wounds, fragments, blood. Unconnected words floated aimlessly. He didn’t even wonder why the thought that the hands must not be injured occurred to him.

“I asked if you are completely mad.”

At the harsh interrogation, the man, who had been silently staring down at the canvas, turned his head. The movement was almost mechanical. Seeing the blood-drenched, ragged hands, MacQuan froze. His clenched jaw trembled with fear.

Not the hands. For that person, the hands…

Memories from an unknown origin tangled and blurred together.

“Did you take opium again?”

Their unstable eyes met. The heartless man gave no answer to the repeated questions.

“Did I not ask you to wait just a little longer?”

“…….”

“Why… why couldn’t you endure that short while…”

There was no place for him in those dead eyes, from which the soul had departed. Facing those empty eyes, where all emotion had been erased, all sorts of disjointed thoughts raced through MacQuan’s mind. After a long while, the pale man finally spoke.

“It was my property, so I simply dealt with it with my own hands.”

“What do you mean by…”

Just as the question was about to leave his lips.

“Aaron Wizfeldon!”

A shout fueled by rage thundered through the entire gallery. It was the Duke of Devonshire.

“How dare you do such a thing in my manor, in your right mind…”

The whites of his wide-open eyes were shot through with burst capillaries. The old Duke stumbled but charged quickly toward Aaron Wizfeldon. Noticing the intent to remove a glove, MacQuan hurriedly stepped in front of Devonshire.

“Duke of Devonshire!”

“Move.”

“Duke, just a moment…”

“I said move! Because of that man, Elisha is—!”

The old Duke let out a deafening shout and raised his hand high. MacQuan barely managed to grab Devonshire’s arms. Even amidst the commotion of the physical struggle, another pair of eyes watched them, maintaining an unnervingly calm and cold temperature.

“Let go of me. Do you dare block my path now, Lester!”

“Please forgive my discourtesy, Your Grace.”

MacQuan held onto the Duke once more. Interpreting all these reactions as a ploy to stop his actions, the Duke of Devonshire muttered, grinding his teeth fiercely.

“Baronet, if you do not step aside this instant, I shall never forget this insolence for the rest of my life.”

At that moment, MacQuan whispered in a low voice, so that no one but one person could hear.

“Please calm down. In society, Lady Elisha is merely an adopted daughter, is she not? Excessive emotional outbursts and reactions will only fuel rumors.”

“…!”

“There are many eyes watching.”

At the cold tone, the aged body stiffened for a moment.

“You have managed it well until now, have you not?”

Ice instantly settled over the flushed expression. Seeing the strength to push through rapidly vanish, MacQuan swallowed a sneer. Despite claiming to love and cherish her so much, the Duke of Devonshire’s choice until the very last moment was family and honor.

Elisha, the woman like a pitiful violet. A fragile and pure soul, resembling his own little sister who had died of hunger and pain.

With a twisted smile, MacQuan closed his eyes.

I will go to hell.

So, rather…

“Duke of Devonshire.”

When he spoke again after a while, the tone was neatly stripped of confusion.

“I will handle this.”

“What do you mean, Baronet?”

“I shall challenge that man to a duel. Regardless of the circumstances, I am currently the fiancé. The insult suffered by Your Grace and Lady Elisha is the same as an insult to me. Your Grace may step back. Have you not always done so? I am confident that no stain shall be left upon the reputation the Devonshires have built. Please, calm your excitement.”

The pulse of the old Duke, who could not cross that final threshold, gradually slowed.

“…….”

It was a silent permission. MacQuan lightly pushed the Duke of Devonshire back. With just a slight gesture, Herald stumbled and leaned against a console. It was a cowardly and petty choice, choosing his own well-being over denial until the end.

MacQuan watched him for a moment, let out a small snort, and turned around. Anxiety proliferated throughout his body. Despite the nauseating pressure, MacQuan walked again. His body felt stiff, as if it belonged to someone else.

It cannot be helped.

This is the best way.

The words he forced himself to repeat clouded his mind. It cannot be helped. This is the best way. This is better. To prevent the situation from spiraling further into the worst…

“Sir Wizfeldon.”

The cold voice contained one person. The man called also slowly turned his gaze. Sky-blue eyes, resembling polished jewels, reflected MacQuan entirely. The face hidden beneath sweat-soaked hair was paler than that of his fiancée. The gaze scanning every part of Aaron’s face was persistent, greedy, and desperate. In the end, MacQuan had to admit it.

That during the past few months, when he had heard no news, he had wondered about the man’s well-being.

…That he had missed him.

“…….”

MacQuan bit his lip so hard it bled. He could feel the gaze of the Duke of Devonshire, who was watching his actions from a few steps away.

He was a cowardly old man, but Herald Lenzdoor was not someone who would ever overlook this situation. At this rate, the old man might be the one to challenge Aaron Wizfeldon to a duel. It was nearly impossible for the man to avoid a duel in any form. It did not take long for MacQuan to make his final decision.

“You caused a disturbance in the Duke of Devonshire’s manor for no reason.”

“…….”

“You put my frail fiancée in danger and damaged her possessions.”

My fiancée.

The eyes that had been wandering in the void until then suddenly snapped into focus.

Slowly, taking an agonizingly long time, Aaron took in the opponent standing before him. It was a persistence born of a desire to remember every bit of the low and filthy lies flowing from that handsome face.

There was a commotion near the gallery entrance where the physician had arrived. The half-open door was shut again as soon as Dr. Jackson entered, blocking external access. After confirming that Jackson was rushing toward Elisha on the makeshift bed, MacQuan, with a determined expression, pulled a white glove from the inner pocket of his coat.

“And not anywhere else, but at a banquet held to celebrate the confirmation of our wedding date. There is no greater insult to me and my fiancée’s family than this.”

A white dueling glove was one of the items a gentleman should always have ready for any situation. Strength was infused into every syllable he uttered.

“I believe this is sufficient grounds for a challenge to a duel.”

The single glove, thrown coldly, landed in front of Aaron.

The man stared at the glove fallen before him for a moment, then tilted his head with a smirk. An arrogant smile hung upon his bloodless lips. Aaron tilted his chin slightly, then picked up the white glove and stood up. As he staggered, unable to keep his balance, a nearby servant reached out to support him.

“Do you wish to have your wrist severed?”

He fiercely struck away the hand that touched him, his eyes sharp and ruthless.

“I-I am sorry…”

Overwhelmed by the fierce aura, the servant immediately bowed his head and stepped back. A faint, misplaced snort echoed. From a few steps away, Aaron discovered his past, discarded on the floor more miserably than trash.

“…….”

The silence was brief.

“That is welcome news.”

A strange smile appeared on the face staring straight ahead. Even within that unreserved laugh, the pain of intestines being torn continued. It was a familiar pain. For a while, Aaron could not calm down, his shoulders shaking as he laughed excessively.

“Baronet.”

The gaze that had been on MacQuan finally ended. Without hesitation, Aaron threw the glove back onto the floor and took a small case from his coat. His long eyes curved like a painting.

“It seems you need to properly learn the rules of a duel.”

He took out a business card. It was an elegant gesture. However, it did not take long for the card printed on high-quality paper to be stained by the blood leaking from the torn black glove.

“These days, we exchange cards like this. And then, a formal challenge is sent via letter. One must never lose their dignity at any moment. I do not know if it is possible for you… but seeing the flamboyant prose you’ve sent in the past, I believe you can mimic it to some extent.”

MacQuan showed no reaction for a while, then slowly accepted the card. Seeing this, one corner of Aaron’s mouth lifted faintly.

“I shall decide the location and the method. I must show the generosity of accepting a duel requested by someone of such a vastly different social standing.”

The confidence permeating the natural use of condescending speech was an attitude that only someone who knew exactly where they stood could possess. Aaron lifted his chin slightly and tidied his disheveled clothes.

His blood-stained hands trembled uncontrollably and cold sweat beaded on the bridge of his nose, but otherwise, his expression remained unchanged. The deep blue eyes staring straight ahead were clearer than ever. The pride that shone purely had never lost its innate nobility, even if he had abandoned himself to cruel violence in the past.

A new scratch dug into the rotten scars that smelled sour. Aaron found it amusing to see the shock and fear revealed in the expressions of those looking at him. His impatient heart let a laugh slip through his slightly parted lips.

Only.

It took less than a year for the dog to meet again and bite the neck of the unsuspecting master.

“Shall I kill you?”

Throughout the treatment of the wounds, you did not stop crying. Those rigid, broad shoulders trembled constantly, unable to compose their emotions. It was cheap pity and a ridiculous sense of empathy.

“Shall I kill you for you?”

Now, years later, those words had returned to him exactly as they were. It was a fully predictable ending, but he had closed his eyes, covered his ears, and kept his mouth shut. It was the result of repeated denial and avoidance. Aaron already knew, through numerous experiences and education, that every decision comes with a corresponding responsibility and price.

“Ah.”

Aaron looked around for a moment as if remembering something, then walked toward the painting he had torn to shreds.

Thump.

The pointed tip of his Oxford shoe carelessly kicked the torn canvas. The black shoes, made of the finest leather, flowed with a soft luster under the lights.

“What are you doing now?”

It was the moment MacQuan tried to approach him for his insane behavior.

“Over here.”

Aaron gestured toward the Grafton Hall servant waiting at the gallery entrance. Every small action and glance of the servant completely excluded MacQuan. The maid, who had been unable to even breathe properly in the explosive atmosphere, rushed over.

“That painting…”

A smooth fingertip pointed to the ruined canvas. MacQuan followed the direction of the gaze. His dark brown eyebrows distorted painfully at the sight of the painting, brutally damaged beyond recognition. The dark red, dried stains between the torn fabric were undoubtedly blood that had flowed from that man’s hand.

“No.”

As if he didn’t like the suggestion, Aaron tilted his head for a moment. Expression had long since vanished from his sharp features. He then gave a slow but clear instruction.

“Burn that trash.”

The quiet voice held layers of oxidized rage.

Trash.

For a moment, MacQuan barely managed to swallow a breath as a pain that suppressed his diaphragm seized him. Within the cold words spat out with precise pronunciation lay a ferocious rage and a resolute will to sever something.

Though he was someone MacQuan had already discarded, the man looked as if he had never been abandoned in his life, and was instead attempting to discard MacQueen Lester.

‘I cannot let him go like this.’

His heart, as if beaten by an iron hammer, thrashed violently.

A desperate voice inside him screamed that someone had to hold onto him. That if he let go this time, it would truly be the end. However, his body, bound by something unseen, remained motionless. It was difficult to utter even a single word asking him to wait. An unfamiliar sensation—stiff fingertips and a cold sweat—dominated MacQuan.

An emotion close to anxiety or fear. MacQuan did not know why he was so afraid. He felt a sense of déjà vu. That retreating back, turning away without a shred of lingering attachment.

It was as if…

“I should be going.”

With a cold sneer, Aaron pointed toward the old Duke, who was being supported by a servant.

“My apologies for causing such a commotion, Duke of Devonshire.”

“You…!”

The Duke of Devonshire, whose eyes met Aaron’s for a moment, stood up abruptly, unable to contain his anger, but he did not lung forward as the servant restrained him. That was the extent of his rage. Aaron mocked the man’s cowardice and carelessly brushed back the bangs falling over his forehead.

“…Wait.”

A rough voice escaped MacQuan’s lips. This sound, wretchedly trembling and erratic in pitch, was by no means his own voice.

“The conversation is not yet finished. Formally, this matter…”

He had spoken to stop the other man, but the moment their eyes met, MacQuan could no longer continue. The sound of quiet breathing spread through the space, which felt like a sheet of thin ice. The polished blue retinas reflected the man standing opposite without reservation. Lips that had been frozen like a plaster statue slowly parted.

“I wish I could carve away this time.”

The sound of a sharp intake of breath stimulated MacQuan’s ears with unusual intensity.

Faced with the clearly visible, cold, and high wall erected against him, MacQuan fell silent. The fluid eloquence that had once manipulated Westminster was useless now. Speechless, MacQuan could only stand there blankly, staring at Aaron.

His gaze kept drifting to the scars scattered across the small face. He wanted to apply medicine, to pull the glass shards out of those hands. He wanted to stroke and embrace the exhausted man. He wanted to ask obsessively until he was told who had done this.

If he were told who it was, he wanted to kill the perpetrator. He wanted to completely erase every trace of their existence from this world. He had never felt such brutal murderous intent in his entire life.

“If only I could smash everything, carve it out, and burn it all.”

The voice, murmuring slowly as if singing, carried a tremor that only one person could notice. The expression revealed between the blood-soaked strands of hair was drenched in intense fatigue. His eyes held not even hatred.

“….”

Having finished speaking, Aaron turned and walked out of the Long Gallery. A few servants made gestures as if to block him, but in the end, no one could stop him.

“Elisha!”

Until the Duke of Devonshire’s indignation-filled shout snapped him back to his senses, MacQuan stared for a long time at the space where Aaron Wizfeldon had suddenly vanished. Even the sound of boots stepping heavily on the marble floor was gone without a trace.

It was the end of a relationship that had been nothing but deception from start to finish.

* * *

Silence pervaded the interior of the carriage.

Following the jolting of the vehicle, the bodies of the two people seated in the chairs swayed intermittently.

In a stillness where not even the sound of breathing could be heard, Calvin quietly turned his head forward. His brother was leaning against the window, looking at the night scenery as the day faded. Aside from the slow blinking of his eyelids, he was so motionless that it was hard to believe he was a living being. Watching the blood-stained hands, Calvin unconsciously clenched his fists tight.

“Please…”

Moisture welled up from somewhere. The eyes that had been blankly staring out the window shifted sideways.

“Please, can’t you just stop?”

Transparent tears flowed long over his kind face. At this plea that was not quite a plea, Aaron let out a small scoff and rested his chin on his hand. Despite that small movement, blood seeped through the cravat that had been tied as a makeshift bandage.

“Stop what?”

“I do not know what kind of ending you desire, Brother.”

“Ending? It seems you’re writing a novel on your own.”

“I only wished for you to spend a peaceful daily life without any incidents.”

“If you’re going to say something useless, keep your mouth shut.”

“No. I will no longer hide or turn away cowardice.”

“And what exactly can you do?”

“I will do whatever it takes.”

Calvin had faithfully followed every order his brother gave. It was a blind loyalty, as if he were a person who possessed no will of his own from the start. Calvin considered his heart’s devotion as atonement for having lived hidden under a fragile canopy, ignoring his brother who had been broken by horrific violence.

“As soon as we return to Pellington, I will tell Father about the Rodinton matter. We cannot leave it as it is. If something were to happen, how could you handle all of this, Brother? It would be better to shift the burden back to me.”

“…And you think you can handle it?”

“Brother!”

“How could you possibly do what I cannot?”

At the continued pleading, Aaron glared at him and clicked his tongue lightly. With an expression that suggested even answering was a chore, he closed his eyes again. Perhaps the pain was starting, as cold sweat began to bead on his forehead. It was Calvin who broke the silence.

“Is it because of Baronet Enfield?”

Unconcealed resentment leaked out. Looking at his brother with wet eyes, Calvin finally uttered the words he had kept hidden deep in his heart.

“The reason you acted that way toward Father, the incident at Worburn House… and this time as well, isn’t it all related to that man? Why on earth…”

“You talk too much.”

Cutting him off ruthlessly, Aaron slowly rubbed his temple against the window, where a chill remained. His thin eyelids trembled quietly. His eyes, having endured a storm, bore an extremely calm hue.

“I should have stopped you. I should have stopped you, Brother. You should not have let that man stay in the hut.”

“Pathetic. Who do you think you are to stop me?”

“It is my fault.”

“….”

“It is my fault…”

Unable to bear it, Calvin buried his face in his large hands. His broad shoulders trembled piteously, but the eyes glancing at him held neither emotion nor pity.

Tup.

Tuduk.

The raindrops that fell one or two at a time soon became a downpour, pouring over the carriage. Listening to the sound of horseshoes running on the unpaved road and the sound of the rain, Aaron closed his eyes again. Just as a long shadow fell over his dry cheek, the carriage wheel hit a stone and jolted violently.

Though it might stagger, a carriage never truly tips over. Much like a tenacious life that survives to the end, enduring every precarious moment. Not letting go of the string of survival in a broken life was the best response and defense Aaron Wizfeldon could manage.

“Let’s go to Worburn, Calvin.”

“….”

“To Worburn…”

The tone, repeating the words like a broken machine, was exceedingly calm. Only the sound of the rain seeping through the silence quietly filled the space where the two of them remained.