When the appointed feast day arrived, the village chiefs of the manor, dressed in their finest, rode into the castle one by one. There were seven in total. Among them were faces Curtis had seen not long ago. The chief who caught his eye hurriedly bowed his head in greeting.
"I am... truly sorry for last time, My Lord."
"It is fine. I was the one who was agitated back then."
Curtis shook his head at the deferential apology and received the greetings of the next chief. Only after all seven had finished their salutations did the chapel doors open.
The inner castle chapel had been rebuilt after the House of Russell was restored, so it followed the latest architectural styles. From the elegant arched ceiling to the magnificent stained glass, the mouths of the village chiefs, who rarely had occasion to leave the manor, hung wide open. The priest who was to officiate the service stood at the pulpit, and the knights and chiefs, who had been sitting and waiting, began to separate to start the service.
About an hour into the service, Curtis, who was sitting in the front row reciting prayers, furrowed his brows at a strange sense of unease.
"...Something is off."
"Is something the matter?"
Robert, sitting beside him, asked in a hushed voice.
"Something is missing."
"Pardon?"
The St. Benedict’s Day ceremony was proceeding as usual. Robert tilted his head and glanced around, eventually realizing one fact.
"Now that you mention it, one person is absent."
"Who."
"Sir Greg."
"Damn it."
"My Lord?"
The moment he heard the name, Curtis sprang from his seat, quickly brushing past the many pairs of eyes fixed on him, and threw open the chapel doors. The place he headed for was the kitchen. The busy kitchen maids and the head chef were startled and stopped their work.
"M-My Lord? What brings you here? At this hour."
"She isn't here."
Curtis, scanning the surroundings like a hawk searching for prey, spat out a curse. Roxana, who should have been busy preparing the bean dish to present to the chiefs, was nowhere to be seen. Alice and Kesi approached him timidly and spoke up.
"Um... who are you looking for?"
"Where is Roxana?"
A piercing gaze turned toward the two. Alice, momentarily struck dumb by fear, stammered a reply.
"If it's Roxana, she said she would go to the storage room for a moment to get some spices... My Lord!"
Before he could even hear the full answer, Curtis turned on his heel and headed for the storage room.
However, Roxana was nowhere to be found. He felt the blood rushing to his head. The feast day ceremony was immediately suspended, and every knight and soldier in the castle was mobilized. With bloodshot eyes, Curtis commanded.
"Find the captain of the knights and Roxana, right now!"
* * *
Roxana opened her eyes groggily at the sound of rattling wheels. Looking around, she realized she was inside some old carriage. It was pitch black, and the rattling vibration from the carriage, which seemed to be moving at full speed, was enough to make her feel nauseous.
"What... is happening? Ah...!"
As soon as she realized where she was, the back of her neck throbbed. She tried to reach for the back of her neck, but her hands and feet were tied behind her back.
"I was... definitely going to the storage room to find something..."
That was her last memory. She had opened the storage door and stepped inside when the door suddenly slammed shut behind her. The moment she turned around in confusion, pain surged into the back of her neck. Then, she had lost consciousness.
"Kidnapping...?"
Roxana, racking her brain to grasp the situation, whispered the unfamiliar word.
"Is this a kidnapping...? Who...?"
As soon as the realization hit, goosebumps broke out all over her body. She writhed like a caterpillar, but the tightly bound ropes would not loosen. She had to at least know where she was headed. Giving up on untying the ropes, Roxana crawled toward the entrance of the curtain with all her might. Just as she felt relieved, thinking she was almost there, unaware that the carriage was slowing to a stop, the person outside was one step faster. The curtain was lifted, and the culprit revealed his identity.
"You're awake."
"...Sir Greg?"
With his dark skin, large frame, and closely cropped hair, Greg, Curtis’s captain of the knights, was looking down at her coldly. Roxana’s eyes wavered uncontrollably in shock and terror.
"What is the meaning of this? Why did you..."
"Kidnap you?"
Instead of answering, Roxana stared up at him. Seeming annoyed by that gaze, Greg furrowed his brows and retorted icily.
"Because you are a witch who brings nothing but harm."
"...A witch."
It was a word that followed her whenever she was forgotten. Muttering his words, Roxana asked, trying her best to remain calm.
"Are you trying to kill me? Did Curtis order this? Ugh!"
"Do not take that name in your mouth so carelessly."
The moment Roxana finished speaking, Greg pressed a blade to her throat and warned through his teeth. Roxana, who had flinched for a moment, soon reached a conclusion.
"Seeing you agitated, I suppose not. This is your own arbitrary action. Isn't it?"
"..."
At her sharp observation, Greg’s face grew even more menacing as he pressed the sword closer to her neck. A thin cut appeared and blood trickled out, but Roxana did not even blink.
"If you aren't going to kill me right this second, stop it. I’m already used to people holding weapons to my throat."
"You are a fearless woman. Well, you were like that from the beginning."
At her deflating reaction, Greg withdrew his sword and shoved her roughly onto the dirt floor. Swallowing a scream at the pain of the fall, Roxana forced herself to lift her head.
"Did you hate me being in the castle that much? If so, why didn't you deal with me back when I was at the convent?"
It was a foolish question. Greg scoffed. It was as if Curtis had completely forgotten her, yet he remained obsessed with her existence. Without even realizing it himself. Whether first love was always this vicious, or if his close friend and sworn brother was just particularly so.
"Let's just say the circumstances weren't right."
"And now the circumstances are right?"
Roxana, trying to hide her fear, asked as if interrogating him. It was strange. She had steeled herself for death once two years ago. She thought she had transcended it back then, but now, placed before a cold, sharp blade and a man filled with killing intent, cold sweat ran down her back and her hands trembled. She was continuing the conversation as if nothing were wrong, but it was a desperate struggle to stay alive for even one more minute. Because he wouldn't kill her while the conversation was ongoing.
"Fine. Since it is the end, I will allow you to ask anything. Just three things."
Reading the fear beneath her calm face, Greg leaned against the corner of the carriage.
"Why are you trying to kill me?"
"I told you before. Because you bring nothing but harm to Curtis."
"Not that superficial reason. There is something else, isn't there? That seems closer to the real reason, doesn't it?"
"..."
At the successive questions, Greg narrowed his eyes. Her gaze was so piercing it felt as if she were actually using mind-reading.
"You said you would allow three questions. Tell me honestly."
"...Your father killed my family."
It was a reason she had suspected in a corner of her heart, but one she never wanted to hear. Roxana dropped her head and muttered quietly.
"I see."
"Next question."
"Who were your family? Did you have a mother, a father, and siblings?"
"...What?"
Greg, doubting his ears, gripped his sword tightly. Roxana felt a chill at the sight of him ready to strike her down at any moment, but she opened her mouth once more.
"Tell me what they were like. Their names, their personalities, their appearances."
"Are you mocking me right now?"
"No. Please, believe me."
"..."
"They are the people my father killed. I must know. So that..."
So that if I meet them in death, I can apologize to them. Roxana swallowed the rest of her words and waited for Greg’s answer. Even while trembling with fear, she had no intention of backing down. Eventually, Greg, his momentum sapped, began his story.
"I was an only child. My mother and father were..."
It was a word he hadn't spoken in a long time. Silenced for a moment by a sense of loss, Greg slowly continued.
"My mother was the daughter of a baronet family. Unusually for that era, she married the person she wanted, not for political reasons. My father was a knight serving the former Margrave. For a long time, he was the former Margrave’s one and only friend and a loyal subject. Even as a child, whenever I watched the two of them, I admired them, thinking that was what a true lord and knight should be. That was what complete trust and loyalty looked like."
Deep longing permeated his voice. Roxana listened quietly to his words.
"What kind of... parents were they to you?"
"My mother was strict but kind. My father was always weak for me. Whenever we practiced sparring with wooden swords, he would always pretend to lose. I thought that was my own skill and was full of myself."
A strict but kind mother. A father who always let his son win. It felt as if she could see them vividly. Roxana, who had closed her eyes to imagine them, muttered without realizing it.
"...I'm envious."
Greg, who had been glaring at her with fierce eyes, had his resolve weakened by her sincere expression and turned his head away.
"Let's move to the next question. There is only one left now."
"You cherish and value Curtis... no, the Margrave, very much. Don't you?"
It was a question that didn't need an answer. Greg let out a dry laugh and nodded.
"Yes. He is my one and only sworn brother and the lord I serve. I would even give my life for him."
His tone was without hesitation. Roxana smiled faintly at his unwavering affirmation. As the conversation flowed, the fear gradually subsided, and resignation and relief filled its place.
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