8.
“Have you ever seen a spy say, ‘I am a spy’?”
“No….”
I hadn’t. If they did, they’d be disqualified as a spy, wouldn’t they?
Marin walked toward the wall, her gait listless, like a dejected puppy. She pressed her forehead against the cold stone with a soft thud.
“What are you doing now?”
“A moment of reflection.”
“What?”
The Duke’s breathing hitched, almost imperceptibly.
Marin, however, remained so deeply trapped in her own spiral of thought that she didn’t notice.
“Because you were right, Your Grace. What kind of spy would admit to such a thing? They would deny it. I needed to reflect on having said something so foolish.”
“…….”
Marin stood facing the wall, fully committed to her supposed introspection.
*I should have shown it through actions, not words. How can I prove I’m not a spy?*
*Should I give him some information about the novel’s plot that would benefit the Duke?*
*No, why on earth does he have so many enemies? If he hates the Emperor, he should just join the noble faction.*
But the Duke, who loathes factions, stands aloof and arrogant all on his own.
That is why both the Emperor’s faction and the noble faction despise him.
When the Duke was in his prime, their envy and espionage attempts failed every single time.
Now, however, the Duke is in seclusion, recovering from his injuries. Taking advantage of the lull, spies from both sides have swarmed the estate.
That was why Mr. Olive couldn’t tell her about the Duke’s true condition.
*I have to find a way to prove my innocence. If I am ever accused of being a spy, it leads straight to the execution grounds.*
***
A time for reflection?
A hairline fracture appeared in Gerald’s indifferent expression.
He began to track her movements. He could hear her bumping her head against the wall and then standing perfectly still.
*Is she actually reflecting?*
The frantic hammering of her heart, which had been loud enough to hear the moment she entered the office, had returned to a calm, steady rhythm.
*What is this? What kind of woman is she?*
She seemed terrified of him, yet at the same time, she didn’t seem afraid at all. Her attitude lacked consistency; she was impossible to pin down.
An unpredictable existence is dangerous. Like a monster.
A sense of wariness surged within him.
Marin Schventz, daughter of the Viscount.
After the carriage accident that killed the family head and the eldest son, the family collapsed. She lives in a dilapidated shack, supporting her sick mother. She never had a debutante. She cannot marry due to the lack of a dowry.
Kay’s intelligence reports were always fast and reliable. She wasn’t a secretive woman; her entire history could be learned in a single day.
*If she isn’t a spy, why did she approach me? Just for money?*
Even if she wasn’t a spy, she had deceived him about her identity. That alone was enough to warrant punishment and exile.
“How long do you intend to stay there?”
“Until Mr. Olive arrives.”
If only it hadn’t been for that voice.
He had convinced himself that her presence was only tolerable when she was reading reports, but that wasn’t true. Her natural speaking voice wasn’t bothersome either. When she spoke to him, she whispered in the lowest, smallest register possible.
Gerald crossed his arms and turned his head toward her.
“Come here.”
“Mr. Olive hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Are you going to read the reports from there even when he comes?”
She hesitated, then answered carefully.
“……No. I’ll come.”
He heard the sound of her approaching with light, measured steps. She was so thin that her footsteps were as soft as falling feathers. He wondered if Kay, who moved like a shadow, might be envious of such silence.
She stopped a short distance away. She smelled of dry, parched autumn sunlight—a scent he hadn’t encountered in a long time.
“I couldn’t see well from that side, so I thought it might be better to stand here….”
Suddenly, he reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her in.
“Gasp—!”
She quickly covered her mouth with her free hand to stifle a scream. He could hear her heart begin to race against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Gerald furrowed his brows, listening intently. The secrets regarding the bloodline of Duke Vines were reserved for the direct heir; his aides only guessed he could hear a little better than the average man.
“Why?”
“……Yes?”
Her pronunciation was muffled behind her hand.
“I asked why you didn’t scream.”
Marin’s light-green eyes, looking up at the Duke, trembled.
*Is he insane?*
Held close to the Duke, Marin pondered the situation. Up close, she could see the silhouette of his face, partially veiled in shadows. His jet-black hair rested against the black silk ribbon tied over his eyes. Beneath a sharp, aristocratic nose bridge, his rose-red lips were perfectly, alluringly formed.
*A madman who is breathtakingly handsome?*
He was the perfect fit for the male lead in a romance fantasy novel. However, there was no setting in 「The Bluebird of the Western Duke Does Not Cry」 that suggested the male lead was insane.
*Could it be that the female lead didn’t know?*
The novel was written from her perspective, so she had simply interpreted his behavior as that of a man cold to his enemies but kind to his woman.
*But what if, in reality, he is only kind to his woman and a madman to everyone else?*
As someone forced to walk a tightrope, she needed to avoid a madman at all costs.
“I asked you why.”
His voice was a low growl, like a beast threatening to tear her throat out. Marin’s brain worked frantically. She couldn’t ask, ‘Are you insane?’ to his face. She had to give him the answer he demanded, and quickly.
“Be-because if I screamed, it would be noisy.”
“A normal reaction would be to scream when startled.”
“Are you asking me that while knowing the answer?”
Marin’s eyes flickered with anxiety. *I really hope he isn’t actually insane.*
“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that a person doesn’t react normally?”
Marin blinked rapidly, feigning surprise. *Wow. He isn’t a madman; he’s just testing me.*
“Because Your Grace… you can’t s— no, because it would be uncomfortable for you to hear.”
Marin chose her words carefully, a wave of relief washing over her.
“…….”
The Duke listened in silence.
“Instead, I thought you might be sensitive to sound, so I suppressed it. I apologize.”
In the novel, he often became violent due to noise. It never hurt to be cautious.
“Your analytical skills are sharp.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
Marin bowed her head, bracing for the next question.
*Are you a spy?*
“Are you a spy?”
“I am not. Phew.”
As expected. Marin let out a long sigh before she could stop herself.
“Did you just sigh in front of me?”
The words ‘How dare you?’ weren’t spoken, but she felt them hanging in the air. Marin shook her head firmly.
“I did not.”
“You did.”
The Duke lowered his voice, a warning.
“How could I dare to do that in front of Your Grace? It wasn’t a sigh; it was just a deep exhalation.”
Marin squared her shoulders and insisted, defiant. She was the only one who could define the nature of her own breath.
“…….”
His jaw muscles twitched in displeasure, but he fell silent.
Marin exhaled internally. The fact that he was still holding her wrist was becoming a dangerous distraction. *If the test is over, shouldn’t he let go? How do I pull away?*
Just then, a thread of light, thin as paper and glittering, snuck into the office through a gap in the black curtains. Her gaze followed the beam. It stretched, brushing across the side of the Duke’s face as he turned his head.
*My god, what is that?*
For a moment, her vision blurred. Having experienced it earlier, she was mentally prepared. She covered her lips with her hand again and called out, keeping the scream buried.
“……Your Gr-Grace!”
“Why?”
The glittering beam illuminated the Duke’s ear and then vanished. Marin’s uneasy gaze traveled from his ear, along his jawline, to the dried blood there.
“Bl-blood. You’re bleeding.”
“I was.”
The Duke remained indifferent, as if it were of no consequence.
“I think you should get that treated immediately.”
She was far more anxious than the man himself. She wanted to call for a doctor, but her wrist remained firmly trapped in his grip.