The room attached to the butler’s office was windowless, a tomb of absolute darkness. Even as my eyes adjusted, I could barely discern what lay directly before me.
The moment I realized who had pulled me close and stifled my cry, my heart hammered against my ribs.
“Shh. Be quiet.”
The voice was tiny, yet etched with the absolute authority of a command. In the gloom, his deep violet eyes glowed with startling intensity.
I reflexively gripped the forearm pressed against my mouth. It was Hyperion. He despised me. Yet, here he was, forcing me into the duties of a Grand Duchess? Or was this a trap? If I simply vanished, Beatrice Lavalle would step into the position with ease, wouldn’t she?
Hyperion’s hand was massive, covering both my mouth and nose. It was thick and calloused, and the realization hit me: if he chose to, he could extinguish my breath right here. Would that be too easy a death? The panic spiraled, and I fought to pry his fingers away, my mind fracturing under the weight of sheer terror.
“Kaella, Kaella. Shh. We snuck in here, didn’t we?”
Hyperion whispered, his tone urgent as he leaned into the word “we.” He tried to adopt the gentle, familiar cadence of our past, but the attempt failed. Beneath his hand, I stared at him with eyes reflecting a frozen, desolate sky. Having survived countless battlefields, Hyperion recognized fear in an instant; he was, after all, a man accustomed to being its source.
But he didn’t want this terror in Kaella’s eyes.
“Calm down. I snuck in too. I’m sorry.”
As he soothed me and slowly withdrew his hand, the fragile, ragged breath I had been holding finally shuddered out. I saw my own small fingertips, still trembling from where they had clawed at his skin. I pressed my lips shut, clutched my dress pocket, and glared at him.
“I startled you. I’m sorry.”
What had I hidden in my pocket? In moments of crisis, the untrained mind instinctively grasps for a weapon or something to conceal. To me, he was nothing but a threat. No matter how many apologies fell from his lips, I kept my hand white-knuckled around my pocket.
“I snuck in, too.”
How did he know to follow me? Pressed against the wall, I hadn’t even realized I was gasping for air. The most terrifying existence in my world was the master of Lyussenford, and he had appeared out of the ether. My blue eyes darted, searching the shadows. Had he brought knights? Was this a sting operation to frame me for espionage?
“Kaella.”
Hyperion stooped, his knees bending. He forced his massive frame—a silhouette that could only look predatory to me—down as low as he could. Opening his palms to show they were empty, he felt the foundation of his own composure crumble.
*I frighten you.*
He was a master at scenting fear; it had always been the herald of his victories. The fear of enemies, the apprehension of his vassals, even the flicker of disdain in the Emperor’s eyes—he had used them all as tools. They were weapons he had relied on his entire life.
But he had never intended to wield them against Kaella. He had been too complacent. Like a man trapped in a prophecy he thought he could outrun, he was realizing, far too late, that he had already arrived in hell.
“I only wanted to keep you quiet, but I scared you. I’m truly sorry. It’s my fault.”
He pleaded with a desperation that asked me to remember the brother I once played with.
“I won’t do it again. I’m sorry for startling you.”
I managed to pull myself together, nodding once. There were no knights. He wore light attire, as if he had just climbed out of bed.
“Aren’t you cold?”
He was wearing only a shawl over his nightclothes. He took a cautious step back, his voice tentative. I merely hunched my shoulders and shook my head, my mind racing. Should I let this slide? Should I confront him? How much could I disclose before I signed my own death warrant? I wanted to observe, but instead, I was forced to face the most dangerous man I knew without a plan.
“No one knows we’re here.”
Hyperion muttered, pressing a finger to his lips. He was as terrifying as he was hauntingly beautiful in the dark.
“It seems we came to check the same thing.”
He whispered, offering a smile that he clearly hoped looked gentle.
“I came to see this.”
He pointed toward the display case I had been investigating. I kept silent; it was safer to listen than to fumble and err. If he demanded answers, I would give them, but for now, I held my tongue.
Hyperion produced a small key. I couldn’t help the slight widening of my eyes as he inserted it into the lock.
*Click.* The case yielded. He opened the doors and pulled out the drawers.
“As you know, I didn’t receive much of an education.”
I found the statement absurd. I knew better than anyone—having grown up in the imperial palace alongside him—that the Empress had poured her life into his training, even under house arrest.
Even when Hyperion begged to play with Beatrice, the Empress had remained firm. Beatrice would often shirk her studies, but I had stayed by Hyperion’s side, foolishly learning the lessons right along with him. She had taught him military science and strategy under the Emperor’s nose, preparing him for a world that would inevitably try to break him. The sheer volume of his knowledge had been staggering for a child.
“I only know how to hold a sword and fight. Territorial management and social graces are not my specialty.”
There was only so much a child could learn before he was exiled to Lyussenford. He hadn’t grown up as a Krain nobleman, but as a creature of the frozen north. If he had been a master of sophisticated politics, Lyussenford would never have been branded as traitors. He wouldn’t have been driven to the madness of forcing a marriage with the Duke of Ostain’s daughter.
He had taken the burden, but had he thought of the Duke while he treated me with such biting cold?
“I heard somewhere that the owner should personally verify important items.”
Hyperion stared down at the silver, which seemed to glint with a sharp, lethal edge in the darkness.
“You, being much smarter than me, must have already known.”
We were here for the same purpose, but I couldn’t agree that I was smarter. What kind of intelligence was it to pine for the man who destroyed my family? I was merely a fool, unable to hold onto the hatred I needed to survive.
“There are too many for me to count alone. Will you count them with me?”
He wasn’t just talking about the cutlery; he meant the entire silver inventory of the castle—the tray the butler used, the candlesticks, the heirlooms.
Every noble house maintained such a collection, and because of their value, the butler was entrusted with their safekeeping. When I had found the discrepancies in the ledgers, the silver was the first thing to pique my suspicion. If the ledgers were being doctored, the inventory was undoubtedly being bled dry.
I nodded, keeping my lips pressed tight. I had intended to count them under the cover of night, regardless.
We stood before the display case, beginning with the dessert spoons and forks.
“Thirty-four spoons.”
I followed with the count of the forks.
“……Thirty.”
They didn’t match. We checked the cake tools—only nine, where there should have been more. The carving forks for meat were at fourteen, and the sauce ladles a mere five. It was impossible for the numbers to be this far off.
“What is this, Kaella?”
“A tool for cutting and pushing food.”
“This one…… there are only seven. Wait a moment.”
He returned to the desk to fetch paper and ink. While he was away, I remained rigid, my gaze following him with a sharp, protective intensity.
*She is afraid of me.*
“How many dessert spoons were there earlier?” he asked, trying to sound casual, trying to be the brother from a life that felt like a phantom limb.
“Thirty-four.”
He knew it was futile. Fear, once rooted, was nearly impossible to excise.
“Ah, right. Thirty-four. And thirty dessert forks.”
The lightness he forced into his voice felt sickening. He needed to send Kaella away, somewhere far and golden, where the sunlight was kind.
“There are nine silver cake-cutting tools.”
At the proximity of his body, the weight of his presence, and the low timbre of his voice, Hyperion felt a wave of dizziness. Black ink bled from the tip of his pen, staining the parchment. It looked like a mark of corruption—a stain on Kaella’s life that he knew he could never scrub away.
“……Nine, you said.”
I nodded quietly. A faint floral scent drifted from my hair, a fragrance embalmed in his oldest, most forgotten memories. It flooded his senses, cutting through the phantom images of blood-soaked battlefields and biting winds.
This scent had always been hers. He hadn’t even noticed when she had vanished, which was typical of his own callousness. He had lived his life without knowing what was truly good, missing out on everything that mattered. He didn’t deserve to hold her now, just because she had returned.
He vowed, then and there, that if he ever found something else of value, he would treat it with reverence. But he knew, with a sudden, sinking dread, that no treasure could ever surpass her. He had realized too late that she was the only perfect thing he had ever known.
“Fourteen of the largest forks for meat. Five sauce ladles.”
The quiet, melodic way I recited the numbers, the way I remained guarded yet cooperative—it was all so quintessentially Kaella.
He had been missing her without even knowing she was the missing piece. He hadn’t recognized his own affection, and in his blindness, he had pushed her until she fell. The void he would feel when he finally lost her entirely was already beginning to crush him.
“Five…… again?”
“Seven food pushers. Four ice cream knives.”
“Four is really too much.”
It was a debt he would carry to his grave. Even if his heart shattered from the weight of his own foolishness, it was a fitting punishment. He tried to maintain his composure.
“Do you know what this is?”
“A ladle for scooping only the solid ingredients from soups.”
“Then this?”
“Anything that looks like that is for seafood.”
“There aren’t many that look like this.”
My blue eyes held his, unrelenting. *That is why it’s a problem.*
“Is there supposed to be a lot of them?”
I gave a single, firm nod. Hyperion chuckled softly, watching me as I stared into the drawer, oblivious to the fact that his heart was breaking.
“I see. I didn’t know.”
The realization of his own ignorance burned, yet it also reinforced why he dared not stand too close to me. He was simply not enough.
“Let’s stop for today.”
I looked up at him, questioning.
“It’s cold. The night is deep, and there’s too much to count. Not tomorrow, but the day after, we’ll finish this together.”
The butler would be present tomorrow. He searched for a reason that would satisfy my guarded gaze.
“Together. I’ll come to get you at night. Your lips are already turning blue. Let’s go.”
He folded the paper, tucked it into his pocket, and locked the case. Erasing traces was second nature to him. We left the office, and he walked beside me down the dim, echoing hallway, his hand lingering near mine.
“We won’t expose this rashly. There are too many loopholes for the butler to exploit.”
I looked at him, my eyes asking *why*. He whispered, low and intimate.
“Lyussenford has a powerful excuse called ‘military funds,’ doesn’t it?”
*Ah.* I nodded, realizing the trap. If the butler claimed he had funneled the silver into military supplies, Hyperion would have to walk a fine line.
“Let’s just map everything out first. Our Grand Duchess will need to choose a new head maid and butler soon, so please begin looking for successors.”
Could I trust those words? Doubt flickered in my eyes, but after a moment, I gave a soft, small nod.
“Yes.”
The Grand Duke offered a faint, aimless smile. The deserted, midnight hallway was, for a fleeting moment, a perfectly suitable place for a stroll.