# 25
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As soon as he opened the door, he felt as if he had entered a dewy forest. A refreshing scent, like flowing water, rushed towards him, and seemed to erase, even for a moment, the smell of thick blood and mold clinging to him.
He closed the door and stood still. Then Grace turned to him. She was standing in front of the reddish light of the stove, as if the glow of the fire was forming a halo over her, and her transparent green eyes, bathed in the warmth of the light, stared at him calmly.
“Your Highness.”
A call so gentle that it made his fingertips itch.
Walter leaned his back against the door, and let out a snort-like laugh.
Why is everything trying to upset me like this?
He ran his hand roughly across his face. The image of Eliza, looking like a fragment of a fallen kingdom, brought up memories of the past and ripped away his mask. And the mask, once it fell, was not easy to put back on.
The soldiers stationed at the Wall of Death secretly nicknamed Walter “The Iron-Blooded Duke.” An overwhelming aura of murder emanates from him without restrictions, matched by a rigid, emotionless face. Wherever he passed, the corpses of monsters piled up like mountains, and their blood flowed like rivers.
When the madness inside him was exhausted, the Duke would retreat to his room for days on end. And only then does he return wearing a mask of reason, with clean, calm features.
Walter hated having anyone approach him until he had completely regained his balance. So, as of now, he intended to let no one in, not even Joseph, until at least tomorrow morning.
“I came because I have something to say.”
Grace calmly explained why she had come. Walter let out a barely audible gasp, then suddenly opened the door.
“Oh, Your Highness!”
The spy who had grabbed Joseph by the scruff moments before was calling to him with a desperate face. It seemed to him that the Duke was less formidable than the rough Joseph Lixton. But that naive hope was shattered into fragments the moment a demonic face rushed in front of him.
Walter slowly grabbed the spy's scruff and said in a low voice:
“Don't open your mouth. Just listen.”
«……»
“Three in the right hallway, two in the left, and you. Six in all.”
«!!»
“If you fall in my sight again, I will hang you by the neck.”
“Oh my goodness...”
“I said don't open your mouth.”
“Kh… kh.”
Walter was squeezing his neck hard, then feeling the light behind him, he loosened his grip. The spy staggered back with a pale face, but Joseph blocked his path with his leg.
“I'm going to finish gagging his mouth again.”
Walter didn't answer. He returned to the room and closed the door.
Grace was standing straight, looking at him silently. Unlike him, who turned into a monster to survive, she seemed surprisingly calm, even after seeing that scene.
Her eyes, the color of grape green, are clear. That strange serenity touched something inside him. He asked her in a distorted voice:
“How…how can you be so calm?”
He unbuttoned his shirt that was choking his neck, and advanced towards her with a frightening rush. However, Grace did not back down a single step. It was completely different from his sane image she was accustomed to, but her face did not hold an ounce of confusion.
He stopped a step away, and stared at her with a look as if he were going to devour her.
“Tell me, Grace. How can you be so calm?
“Do I look calm?”
«……»
“Or are you asking how I have been able to bear it without going crazy so far?”
When Walter was silent, Grace opened her eyes wide and stared at him as if challenging him, and whispered:
“Because you were alive.”
Walter subconsciously held his breath.
“There were moments when I wanted to collapse. And other moments when I wanted to set fire to the beds of those who were destroying Taylor. Even then... when I stood in the chapel next to the nephew of the Empress, the murderer of my parents. When I hung the necklace they sent as a gift around my neck.”
No, ever since they started mentioning Jack Saxon as a marriage partner, the anger has been boiling like it's melting my insides.
“Even in those moments, I held on to those words.”
«……»
“You are alive.”
A man whose face she had never seen clearly, and with whom she had never exchanged a single word.
However, she always felt his presence. Just knowing that someone, hiding himf and striving for one goal with her, was comfort enough.
The day she met him, she had to be someone who could be relied upon in this battle. She was not allowed to remain just a uess, pathetic being.
“You have long been my compass... and my anchor.”
«……»
“Thanks to you, I was able to endure.”
A flame danced in Grace's eyes. If he had known how many feelings she had harbored throughout those years while waiting for him, he would not have asked her this question.
“So… you bear it too.”
When she emptied her pent-up words, his agitation seemed to begin to subside. Grace lowered her voice further:
“What I want is not just to kill enemies. I want Taylor, the pillar of the empire and its golden fields. I want to restore the name and continue the glory of my ancestors. For this to happen, you, Your Highness, must be a ruler worthy of my loyalty.”
Walter understood what you meant.
“I trusted you and have endured so far. Don't let me down.
Their gazes met in deep depth.
Grace slowly realized that blackness could be deeper and more diverse than she thought. The eyes that were burning like fire gradually calmed down, until they became solid black like obsidian.
For a reason she did not know, or perhaps it was just habit, a light laugh escaped her like escaping air. He stared at her in astonishment, then laughed in the same way.
“Huh.”
A sound similar to a sigh came from his lips.
As the atmosphere calmed down a bit, Grace pulled the shawl around her shoulders and discussed the reason for her coming.
“I think the Marquis will take the bait soon... me.”
Walter walked towards the stove, which was almost extinguished, and threw firewood into it.
“Today the Marquis Linco and Flora Lewin visited me. They were teasing me about your identity, so I just mentioned your name.”
Grace told him what the two maids had done, and how she had ordered Jessie to follow them. Then, there was a soft knock on the door, and Jesse's voice rose from outside.
“Miss, Jessie.”
Grace turned to Walter asking for permission.
“Will you let me in?”
Instead of answering her, Walter said towards the door:
“Come in.”
Jessie entered shortly, with a vague annoyance on her face. She looked at Grace, then at Walter, and said:
“I could barely catch up with them, but someone was secretly watching the two maids besides me.”
“What happened?”
“When they passed through a corridor empty of people, they appeared from behind and dragged them into a room.”
Grace and Walter's eyes narrowed at the same time.
“They were dragged into a room?”
“There was someone watching outside, so I couldn't get close. I'm not sure, but...”
Jessie hesitated, then quickly added when she saw Walter's sharp look:
“Maybe they were beaten... I heard a faint scream for a moment.”
A heavy silence fell over the three's heads.
＊ ＊ ＊
Sometimes she imagined it.
If she could see the future, or go back to the past.
But they were just fantasies. What you really have to do is set a goal, gather information, make a prediction… and then act.
Grace returned to the chandelier room and sat at her desk as usual.
“The two maids who prepared dinner for me were detained and beaten inside the palace...”
It was clear that the Lenko couple were up to something. But with these data alone, it was not easy to predict.
Grace sank deeper into thought. I reviewed the grand plan, rearranged the steps, and estimated the timing. Then she suddenly raised her head and saw her reflection in the mirror placed at the end of the desk. As she stared at it, she remembered his words.
“I said I seemed calm...?”
She slowly ran her hand over her face, then tried to smile. She automatically smiled that elegant, mysterious smile that did not reveal what was inside. She blinked slightly, then tried to make a sad expression.
«……»
But she couldn't. She tried to frown, but failed too. She stared in the mirror for a long time, trying different faces, to no avail.
Only then did she realize that she had forgotten all her expressions, and that all she had left was that calm, meek face.
She shook her head lightly and muttered:
“This is even better.”
Emotional disturbance is a fatal weakness. To shake the hearts of others with a calm and composed face. There is no weapon stronger than that. However, the reflection of her emotionless doll face bothered her, so she turned the mirror to the side.