When Eric returned to the Duke’s estate aboard his carriage, the chief steward was already there to greet him.
The steward, who oversaw nearly a hundred retainers within the estate, was always dressed with immaculate precision—his robes unwrinkled, his collar perfectly aligned. He welcomed guests with a gentle, benevolent smile and seldom revealed even a flicker of emotion.
But today, as he opened the carriage door for Eric, a faint ripple of unease broke his usual composure. The steward opened his mouth as if to speak, then quickly shifted his words with awkward grace.
“…The weather is quite pleasant today, Young Master.”
Eric frowned and gestured to the sky, thick with overcast clouds.
“It looks more like rain is brewing.”
The steward glanced up at the gray heavens and nodded, his expression dimming slightly.
As they stepped inside and began walking through the halls of the estate, the retainers began to pause their duties, respectfully bowing their heads to the Young Master. Yet as soon as Eric passed by, they exchanged subtle glances with the steward, their eyes filled with curiosity and barely veiled meaning.
The steward responded with uncomfortable hand gestures, waving them off in silent rebuke.
Noticing the strange energy among them, Eric spoke as he walked through the first-floor corridor.
“I suppose my absence last night has become the talk of the estate?”
The steward gave a strained cough, as though struck in a vital meridian.
Truth be told, Eric’s sudden decision to spend a night outside the estate had stirred quite the commotion among the retainers, especially those who had always held an unhealthy amount of interest in the affairs of the Young Master.
After all, Eric had joined the Imperial Knights at the tender age of fourteen and had lived away from the estate for most of his life. Even after returning two moons ago, not once had he stayed out without notice.
In contrast to the usual conduct of noble heirs—who treated overnight disappearances like common meals, sometimes even returning home with illegitimate children before marriage—Eric’s behavior had been the polar opposite.
Even among heirs serving in the knight orders, it was common to maintain lovers in every province where they were stationed for subjugation or patrol.
Thus, when Eric, now twenty-four and long past the age of marriage, returned to the Duke’s estate, the retainers half-expected that one day a woman from the northern provinces would appear at the gate, child in arms and thick dialect on her tongue.
But no such thing ever happened.
On the contrary—Eric trained daily with the Duke’s personal knights as though he were still in the royal corps. He avoided all social gatherings entirely.
Rumors began to swirl:
“Something must be wrong with the Young Master.”
The steward, who had cared deeply for Eric since he was a child, was livid every time he heard such whispers. But the servants continued gossiping behind his back nonetheless.
Then, the very night Eric stayed out, a new rumor spread like wildfire across the capital: that both the princess and Eric had disappeared at the same time… from
The Night-Blooming Rose
, that scandalous pleasure house.
The steward cleared his throat.
“So… shall the first dance at tonight’s royal banquet be with Her Highness?”
Ah yes—the royal banquet.
Eric loathed social gatherings. The noble daughters who swooned and collapsed just from seeing him, the degenerate sons of noble families who spewed vulgar chatter—it all drained his spiritual energy faster than a beast core extraction.
But the royal banquet was not something one could refuse.
Eric felt a throbbing in his head.
“Must I really dance?”
“Well, not necessarily… but if you wish it, I shall summon the capital’s most revered dance master at once!”
The steward spoke with unwarranted gravity, as though preparing for battle.
Dance, huh…
Eric's mind involuntarily conjured the image of Emelline from the previous night—her movements bizarre, flailing about at
The Night-Blooming Rose
as if caught in a drunken martial technique gone wrong.
She would undoubtedly be at tonight’s banquet too. Did he really have to witness that spectacle again?
More pressing than that…
“Your father is a madman.”
Why had she been so certain? Just because her father had colluded with Robert?
At that moment—
Bang!
A gunshot rang out from outside.
Eric turned instinctively toward the window, just as his mind flashed back to Emelline—her startled face peering out of the office window in exactly the same direction.
Why was I so startled back then?
It was a matter easily settled by simply confirming everything.
"Did Father go out hunting rabbits?"
"Yes, that’s correct."
Eric glanced around the forest that surrounded the ducal manor and gave a slight nod.
"Alright. I’ll take a rest now."
"Ah, yes, sir."
The steward, wearing a face full of unspoken questions, looked longingly at Eric as he disappeared into his chamber. Once Eric was out of sight, the steward let out a sigh and departed.
Eric, standing still in his bedroom, waited until the sound of footsteps faded before opening the window.
He looked out from the second-floor window and recalled how Emelline had once leapt from here in a single motion.
Eric followed suit, throwing himself down from the window.
But unlike Emelline, who had tumbled through the grass, he landed lightly and stepped directly into the Duke’s study below his chamber.
He was there to retrieve the back page of a certain document.
Eric now stood before the bookshelf in his father’s study, recalling the day he’d encountered Emelline there just a few days ago.
Back then, he had opened the bookshelf and stepped into the revealed space. Using the pendant as a key—
He had unlocked a hidden compartment behind the bookshelf.
Now, he stood silently, staring into the now-empty space, lost in thought.
He remembered Emelline stepping out from behind that very bookshelf.
That strange woman—
With her garish red hair, switching back and forth between a southern dialect and formal court speech, as inconsistent as she was unpredictable.
Eric involuntarily recalled the moment he had grabbed her, shaking his head as if to scatter the lingering thoughts.
A strange woman. Truly strange…
To think she dared trespass into the Duke’s private study without fear.
Originally, he should have returned the documents today and put them back where they belonged.
But instead, he had let Emelline take them.
If his father had already noticed the documents were missing, returning them now might mean losing them forever.
Moreover, the Duke of Orléans had been extremely busy these past few days, corresponding closely with the royal court to obtain the marriage approval.
Besides, since Eric had held onto the pendant—the key—the Duke likely hadn’t discovered the secondary secret compartment hidden behind the bookshelf.
Eric stepped into the empty space and closed the bookshelf behind him.
Darkness immediately enveloped him.
In the pitch black, Eric found himself remembering the sensation of Emelline’s hair brushing his cheek, her breathing, her terrified cat-like eyes, and her trembling fingers.
Those fear-stricken eyes oddly resembled the Duchess’s. Perhaps it was the color.
He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, his vision adapted.
Eric began feeling around, searching for the space-within-the-space.
There it is.
He had pulled out the document bundle from here—
Then sorted through it, discarding what seemed like blank pages and taking only the important ones.
Now, he realized those “blank” pages weren’t truly blank.
Eric froze mid-search.
Gone.
The spot where he’d hidden the back page was empty.
With a growing sense of alarm, he reached into his pocket for a luminous orb, but his hand touched a matchbox first.
He struck a match.
Light spilled out, revealing the hidden chamber.
Gone.
It meant the Duke had discovered the missing documents.
Eric clenched his teeth, staring at the empty space.
He had always held the pendant, meaning—
There was another key.
With urgency, he moved the burning match closer to the wall. Then, a faint glow flickered near the wall.
‘…?’
A thin trail of smoke began to seep out from the wall’s edge.
Eric’s brows furrowed.
‘This is…’
Just as he brought the match closer to the wall, the smoke grew denser—exactly like the smoke that had risen when Emelline had set flame to the documents.
Eric struck another match, shielding his mouth with one hand as he leaned in. Slowly, hidden script began to emerge from the surface, drawn out by the heat.
His shoulders stiffened.
He stood frozen, hand unmoving, until the match burned all the way down.
“What in the heavens…”
He reached for another match.
Fsshh!
As the flame flared again, the writing continued to surface—like diluted ink responding to fire. Faint, ghostly letters appeared more clearly.
Die, Valdek Orléans.
Eric instinctively reached up and touched the pendant hanging from his neck.
He knew that handwriting.
It belonged to his mother—Emilie Orléans.
Valdek Orléans… that was the full name of Eric’s father.
“Your father is a madman.”
Emelline’s voice echoed beside his ear.
The match went out. Eric struck another and lowered it further. The writing resumed.
You’ll never know I wrote this.
You’d think you were the only one who knew about this cursed ink.
If someone finds this message, let it be known—
I would never take my own life.
If I die, the one responsible is…
Valdek Orléans. That monster.
Eric stood rooted in place, as though locked down by an invisible force, overwhelmed by the ominous words.
After what felt like an eternity, he moved to open the bookshelf door—
Only to find a shadowy figure standing before him.
His hand instinctively flew to the sword at his waist.
“What, are you planning to cut me down?”
Duke Valdek Orléans smiled gently at Eric as he spoke.
Chapter 20