"What are you doing!"
*Thud.*
Before she could even reach out to stop it, the object fell to the floor. The guard’s gaze dropped, then slowly drifted back up. What Roxana had severed with her dagger was her long, beautiful red hair.
"What... is this..."
In this country, a woman’s hair was a value above all else. It was an unwritten rule for women of any class to keep their hair at least waist-length; even for a nun, it was unthinkable to cut it in the middle of the street like this, rather than during a formal ceremony. The hair, jaggedly shorn above her shoulders, was shocking.
"W-what on earth are you... doing..."
To the guard, who was stuttering in shock, Roxana made her request once more, politely.
"It is an urgent matter. Please, open the gate. I beg of you."
Her eyes held not a shred of falsehood. Though her frame was frail and her face delicate, there was a clear, indomitable spirit dwelling within those eyes. The guard, dazed and blinking, finally raised the white flag.
"...I understand. Wait here. I will send someone to the inner castle."
The guard, who had stepped away for a moment, soon returned. He was accompanied by a knight on horseback.
Roxana recognized his face instantly. It was Greg, the right-hand man of Curtis, the one who had driven her father, the Marquess of Dalton, to the very edge of the tower. He was a man with a striking, rock-like physique and hair cropped as short as a monk’s. He had even accompanied Curtis when she was being transported to the convent.
"Why are you here?"
Greg, having recognized her as well, twisted his expression. Expecting this reaction, Roxana replied calmly.
"It is an urgent matter."
His eyes, which had been colored first by confusion and then by anger, slowly settled on her hideously shorn hair. Calming his emotions, Greg dismounted from his saddle.
"Get on behind me. The inner castle is a bit of a distance from here."
As soon as Roxana nodded and climbed up with his help, Greg took his place behind her. He flicked the reins, and the horse galloped down the cobblestone path. Once they passed the estate district, the moat and drawbridge came into view in the distance. Though it was dark all around, the high spires rising beyond the inner castle walls caught her eye here and there. As Roxana, momentarily forgetting her situation, was captivated by the sight, Greg sneered.
"Is it fascinating? Much of this was lost over a decade ago."
"I see..."
"The Marquess was recognized by His Highness and restored to his position, and he rebuilt this castle. You could say about seventy percent of it has been restored."
Perhaps thinking he had said too much, Greg closed his mouth after that. Once they passed through the gates of the inner castle, someone was there to meet her. It was an elderly man, dressed neatly and standing with rigid posture. As soon as she dismounted, he approached.
"Welcome. You have come a long way."
"Ah... thank you for receiving me. If I may ask, who might you be?"
"I am Robert Carl. I am the butler of this castle."
Robert, who had introduced himself softly, then cast his gaze toward her hair.
"I heard of the guard’s rudeness. I am ashamed. These are difficult times, after all."
"There is no need to stand on ceremony."
Greg, who had cut in, looked down at Roxana coldly. Receiving that gaze, Roxana read the warning. It was a look that said he would not let her off if she were here for some trivial nonsense.
"If she tries anything foolish, notify me immediately."
"There is no need to go that far. Haha."
She swallowed a bitter smile. She had expected this level of cold treatment. If anything, the warm welcome from Robert the butler was what surprised her.
"I heard you came for an urgent matter. Please, come inside."
Robert, having dismissed Greg, guided Roxana into the castle. They passed through the grand, massive entrance hall typical of an old castle, leading into a space that was not flashy but antique and elegant. There was a plush couch upholstered in buffalo leather, a rosewood tea table, a fireplace mantel carved from ivory, and a red tapestry hanging above it. It was a grace on a different level from the Dalton estate, which had been busy flaunting its wealth by bringing in rare foreign luxuries.
Roxana briefly explained the circumstances that had brought her here. Fortunately, Robert, who listened to her story with gravity, nodded.
"My goodness... Flower Fever? This is truly a grave situation. The Marquess left the castle two weeks ago because of a flood in the southern territory."
"Every moment is critical. Somehow, please..."
At the unexpected bad news, Roxana’s mouth went dry.
"Since it is late today, I will send a physician and medical supplies as soon as the sun rises tomorrow. The Marquess has also instructed that we spare no necessary support for the Angela Convent."
"Ah! Thank you. Thank you so very much..."
Relieved by his assurance, Roxana bowed her head repeatedly. As all the tension drained away, her body swayed. Robert, noticing her trembling hands despite her attempt to act composed, replied as if to soothe her.
"You need not thank me. I am merely carrying out the Marquess’s standing orders."
"Ah."
The medical supplies and daily necessities that had occasionally arrived at the convent had indeed come from this castle. Though the convent was under the jurisdiction of the estate, she wondered how he had such a deep connection to the Angela Convent. While Roxana was lost in the sudden question, Robert made a suggestion.
"Would you like to see the Marquess before you go? He happens to be returning around lunch tomorrow..."
"No."
Roxana, jolted to her senses, shook her head.
"I know it is impolite, but I wish to return to the convent as soon as possible. I will depart with them first thing tomorrow."
"I see. Very well."
The conversation flowed like water. They called for a physician to explain the symptoms of the disease and organized the medicines that needed to be taken.
As the grandfather clock struck midnight, Robert stood up, naturally bringing the conversation to a close.
"It is already midnight. Since it is late, I will call a maid to show you to your room."
"Yes, thank you."
It was the moment Roxana stood up to follow him, having thanked him with all her heart.
*Clatter.*
"Aaaah!"
A sound of something hard shattering on the floor rang out from somewhere, followed by a sharp scream from a woman.
In an instant, the drawing room froze. Before they could even grasp the situation, someone threw open the door amidst the sound of running footsteps.
"Butler! Just now!"
It was a maid, her face deathly pale with panic. It was certain that something had happened. Robert, suppressing a groan, rubbed his forehead.
"Everything was quiet, and yet, of all days, today... I am going now. For now, lock the door. Make sure no one can get out."
"What on earth is happening?"
It seemed a serious matter had occurred. Robert, turning slightly toward Roxana as she asked cautiously, replied firmly.
"It is nothing."
"..."
"Show the sister to the guest room."
He gestured to the maid who had entered and hurried out of the drawing room. The sound of multiple footsteps rang out in unison through the quiet castle. It was clear that something had happened, but she could not intervene. After all, if her true identity were revealed, she would be no better than a candle in the wind. Roxana tried her best to look away.
"Then, please rest well. I will come to wake you when you depart tomorrow."
"Yes, thank you."
The room she arrived at, guided by the maid, was cozy and warm. The bed was soft enough to soothe the anxiety she had felt moments ago.
As soon as the door closed, Roxana took off her stifling robe and hung it on the coat rack. Having lived a life no different from sleeping rough for the past few days, her body was exhausted from the journey. Just as she was about to drag her heavy body to the bed and lie down, someone knocked on the door.
"Help me! Please, open the door!"
It was a desperate voice, as if the person were gasping for air. Startled, Roxana opened the door, and a girl rushed in. Before she could even scream, Roxana was shoved and fell backward. Pain surged through her body as she hit the floor. As she snapped open her eyes, which she had reflexively closed, she felt a heavy pressure. And the black hair draped over her chest like seaweed.
"...A person?"
It was a young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old. What had rushed at her like a wild animal had disheveled hair and feet covered in wounds, as if she had stepped on glass shards. Her face was strangely familiar.
A flustered Roxana pushed the girl away. But the more she pushed, the more the girl clung to her with desperate strength.
"W-who are you?"
"Who are you, for that matter?"
"I..."
As Roxana parted her lips, she suddenly heard someone shouting outside the open door.
"I think she went that way!"
"Hide me. They are trying to kill me."
The girl, who had suddenly stood up, closed the door carefully and felt along the wall. Then, she bumped her head against the wardrobe. Even though it was dark, there was enough moonlight coming in to distinguish objects.
Is she blind? Roxana, watching with curiosity, approached the girl. Her forehead was drenched in cold sweat, and her lips were deathly pale. Whatever the situation, she was terrified. The girl grabbed Roxana’s collar.
"They are going to take me and put me on the gallows. I don't want to die!"
"I heard a sound from that room!"
The sound of footsteps rushing toward them could be heard. There was no time. Roxana made a decision.
"Then hide in here."
Whatever the case, she could not turn away a girl trembling in such terror. As soon as she opened the wardrobe door, the girl nimbly hid inside. At the same time, the maids knocked on the door.
"Sister? May we come in?"
"What is the matter?"
Roxana, having silently closed the wardrobe door, opened the door. The maid glanced inside.
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