18.
“His Grace the Duke wants to see you now.”
Olive quickly cut her off.
“Why?”
Marin asked, her eyes wide.
“I wonder.”
“By myself again?”
Marin looked up at him, her expression clouded with dread.
“Yes. By yourself.”
Olive smiled gently, as if it were a matter of no great consequence.
“Understood.”
Marin turned away, her shoulders slumped, then hesitated and looked back at Olive.
“But Mr. Olive, how are you able to be in contact with His Grace the Duke?”
“That is a secret.”
Olive smiled affectionately and pressed a finger to his lips.
“Ah, a secret. I’ll be going then.”
Marin let her head hang, defeated, and headed toward the dark hallway.
*Ah, I don’t want to go.*
A little while ago, she had crossed that threshold of her own volition. But now that she was being summoned alone, every instinct urged her to turn back.
Marin stood before the office door, bracing herself. As she took a deep breath to knock, a low voice drifted from within.
“Come in.”
Marin lit a candle and stepped into the office.
In the pitch-black space, where one couldn’t see an inch ahead, the Duke of Vines existed all alone—an island cast adrift in a dark sea.
“Hello.”
“Do you think I’m doing well, blind as I am?”
“……No. I apologize.”
*Goodness, he certainly has a talent for twisting his words.*
“Closer.”
“Yes.”
Marin guided herself with the candlelight and walked toward the Duke. He was leaning back lazily in his chair.
“Leave the candle nearby.”
Marin looked around and gently placed the candle on an empty bookshelf. She stood blankly in front of him until he spoke again.
“Closer.”
“Yes.”
She hugged the book she was holding tightly to her chest and stepped closer. The yellow glow revealed the sharp, handsome silhouette of the Duke of Vines.
“Your hand.”
As he reached out with his large hand, Marin reflexively placed her own into his palm like a well-behaved puppy.
Silence fell.
The Duke of Vines’ shoulders seemed to tremble slightly, but she must have imagined it.
“It was supposed to be a wrist check, though.”
“Ah, I’m sorry.”
*Then you should have said wrist specifically.*
With her face flushed red, she tried to pull her hand away, but the Duke held firm, gripping her wrist.
“You’re still the same.”
“I’ve been eating very well lately.”
“And your palm is swollen.”
Only then did Marin notice the swelling. It must have been from the ‘proper education’ she had administered to the landlord couple.
“Ah…… I didn’t know.”
“Did you hit someone?”
“Me? I’m not such a violent person.”
Marin widened her eyes in feigned innocence, as if the very idea were preposterous.
“I heard you did.”
“No, who would spread such a slander……”
“The Butler.”
“Ahem. Well. Sometimes, when circumstances are unavoidable, people can become quite fierce.”
Marin quickly adjusted her narrative.
“You change your tune easily.”
“I wish you had told me you knew everything in advance.”
“Are you lecturing me now? Me?”
He asked, his voice languid.
“Certainly not. How dare I? Absolutely not.”
Marin shook her head so fast it nearly blurred.
“What is that book?”
*This man, is he really blind? How did he know I was holding a book?*
“It’s a book I chose, thinking it might help Your Grace sleep. I was going to ask: is there any book you find particularly boring?”
“Why?”
“Because a boring book is best for inducing sleep.”
The Duke sank into thought for a moment before spitting out a single word.
“……A fairy tale.”
“A fairy tale?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“No. It’s not that……”
*A world of dreams and hope? Aren’t fairy tales supposed to be beautiful? This man doesn’t have a shred of sentiment.*
“I especially hate happy endings.”
“Yes. I imagine you would.”
*His emotions must be so withered they’d burn faster than dry tinder.*
Marin grumbled inwardly and fixed her gaze on the Duke’s face. Now that she knew he couldn’t sleep, his features seemed even more gaunt. Even without emotions, one should at least rest.
“I haven’t prepared a fairy tale for today, but I will bring one tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
“Um……”
“Why?”
“When will you let go of my hand……?”
His broad shoulders jerked.
This time, she definitely saw it.
She had been bothered by him holding her wrist, but it seemed he hadn’t even realized he was still holding her.
As soon as he released her, Marin hugged the book again.
“Um……”
“Why?”
“May I ask why you called for me?”
“…….”
She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. Was this a dangerous question? Marin watched him with a nervous heart.
“……To check.”
“Yes?”
“Did you forget that I told you to get your wrist checked every day?”
“Ah……. Yes.”
Of course, she hadn’t forgotten, but she hadn’t expected him to call her for such a trivial reason.
*Is that a lie?*
Marin looked at him with suspicion.
“Um……”
“From now on, no ‘um’. Say it all at once.”
“Yes. Then may I take my leave now?”
“Are you not going to read the book?”
“I heard you were tired today. Shall I read it to you?”
“Read if you like.”
“Yes.”
She moved away, stepping closer to the candle so she could see the print.
The sound of skirts brushing. The rustle of turning the first page. The sound of her taking a deep, steadying breath. The faint movement of her brushing a strand of hair back. The nervous thudding of her heart.
The place that had been his sanctuary was now filled with the rhythm of her presence.
“I’ll start. ‘People live their lives repeating the same routine every day. However, I did not want to live like that from today on. I shouted into the void. I want to do something special.’”
It was a novel.
She lowered her voice, adopting the clinical tone she used for reports, and read clearly and distinctly.
Today, his pain had been particularly severe, and he had wanted no visitors. He had been enduring the silence when he heard it—her faint, tentative voice.
*It’s like a warning not to cross over here.*
It was accurate. A warning.
The hallway, the dark curtains drawn against the light—that was the boundary he had set. But despite sensing the warning, she had boldly crossed the line.
And then, her voice became a little clearer.
“I’m sorry…….”
He quietly summoned his shadow. Kay knelt immediately before him.
“Tell Olive. Bring Imsi here.”
“…….”
Kay answered with a bow and vanished.
* * *
What was she sorry for?
He was curious. What could this woman have done to him that would warrant an apology?
Now that he had summoned her, he couldn’t ask. Not without revealing his secret.
Holding her swollen hand, he realized once again how thin and fragile she was. He had never imagined a person’s hand could swell like that from a single strike.
She really was a strange woman.
“‘I went up the mountain. The mountain greeted me. It’s been a long time. I said to the mountain, I’m looking for something special.’”
Her voice changed, taking on a theatrical quality as she spoke the lines. It was strange, yet undeniably pleasant to hear.
*Why is this woman’s voice so soothing?*
Before he knew it, his thoughts shifted entirely to her voice. As he focused, his body began to lose its rigid tension. Even the senses he had kept on high alert seemed captivated by her, lulled into a quiet trance. He was so immersed that he didn’t even realize he was drifting.
His body felt weightless; sleepiness washed over him. At the moment his consciousness finally began to slip away, he shouted out.
“Stop!”
He felt as if he had been doused in ice water. His mind snapped awake, and his senses flared back to life, assaulting him with renewed intensity.
“……Imsi. What did you do to me?”