"Is someone there?"
"No. Nothing is wrong. It’s quite noisy outside, but what is the matter?"
"Ah... nothing. I apologize for waking you."
The maid, looking puzzled, bowed her head in apology. Only after the door closed again did Roxana let out a sigh of relief. She pressed her ear against the door to confirm the sound of retreating footsteps before approaching the wardrobe once more.
"They're gone. You can come out now."
"..."
"Hello?"
There was no answer. Roxana tilted her head and opened the wardrobe door, causing a small body to tumble forward. Startled, Roxana caught the girl in her arms. Perhaps she had fallen asleep in the meantime, as the girl began to whimper in her sleep.
"Mother... Father... Brother... Save me... Brother..."
At the same time, Roxana’s entire body stiffened. Jet-black hair, long eyes, and a sharply defined nose. Full lips. She had thought the face looked familiar, and now, the girl’s identity was certain.
"My younger sister is frail, so she cannot go out often. Our parents are deeply worried, so they are reluctant to let her meet others. I worry that if we coddle her too much, her personality will become twisted."
The apple of the Marquess of Russell’s eye, his youngest daughter. The sister who looked exactly like Curtis Russell.
Frey Russell.
***
The flooding in the southern territory was, fortunately, brought under control quickly. Thanks to the Marquess’s seasoned leadership, the soldiers and the people of the territory had moved in perfect unison. Rather than commanding from a high vantage point, Curtis had contributed his own labor day and night. He helped rebuild farmhouses, assessed the damage, and hauled the carcasses of dead livestock to pits. As a result, the schedule, which had been expected to conclude by the following afternoon, was moved up by half a day.
"You have returned quickly."
"I cannot leave the castle empty for long."
Massaging his stiff neck, Curtis dismounted. Robert took his coat. A sharp gaze caught something that seemed off. Robert was dressed as neatly as he had been when he left, but his graying hair was disheveled. Pretending not to notice, Curtis scanned his surroundings.
"By the way, the castle seems a bit restless. Robert?"
"That is..."
Under the quiet inquiry, Robert’s mouth went dry. There were two incidents he needed to report: the matter of Roxana Dalton and the matter of Lady Frey. He was at a loss as to where to begin. As Curtis’s eyes narrowed, Robert, forcing an awkward smile, chose the secondary issue.
"The young lady insisted on not taking her medicine."
"Again?"
Clenching his teeth, Curtis walked quickly. It was not the first time this had happened. Whenever night fell, she would scream that she saw ghosts, and in severe cases, she would harm herself.
It had started when she lost her sight from the shock of their family’s downfall. After losing the parents who had cherished her like a jewel and losing everything she had enjoyed overnight, Frey had gradually closed her heart. She trusted no one, relied on no one, and suspected everything. Even her own brother.
"What about the injured maid?"
"Fortunately, there were none today. However."
Robert, who had been breathlessly following his master, came to a sudden halt.
"Frey."
Without warning, Curtis threw open the door to Frey’s room and stepped into the darkness. In the pitch-black room, his ash-colored eyes scanned every corner like a hawk hunting for prey.
"Frey?"
Curtis entered the room and opened the wardrobe door. He had thought she was hiding inside, but she was not there. He knelt and checked under the bed.
"It’s me. You can come out now."
Though his eyes had adjusted to the dark, no matter how much he looked around, the person he sought was not there. As soon as Curtis turned around, Robert, who had been bowing his head, confessed.
"Lady Frey has left the room through the window."
"Why are you telling me this only now!"
A sharp reprimand fell over his head. Robert bowed his head even lower and offered an excuse.
"Fortunately, we found her quickly. However."
"However?"
If she had even a scratch on her, someone would have to pay the price. His black eyes, glaring as if to devour him, burned with intensity. Robert, frozen like ice, brought up the second incident he had delayed earlier.
"She is... with Miss Roxana."
It was an unexpected name. The temperature in the room dropped below freezing in an instant. While Robert, unable to even lift his eyes, was at a loss, a dry voice asked again.
"What did you say?"
"..."
"Why is Roxana here?"
"They say a plague broke out in the village around Angela Convent. She came herself to ask for help because it was an emergency... My Lord!"
The explanation could not continue for long. Curtis, having grabbed a sharp decorative dagger from the fireplace mantel, commanded, "So, where is she now?"
His voice was chillingly soft. With a faint smile on his face, Robert felt his lips tremble from the tips of his toes. Just facing him brought on a chill.
"I will guide you."
While Robert led the way to Roxana’s room, Curtis did not say a word, his face expressionless. Conscious of the footsteps following behind him, Robert prayed that there would be no tragedy. This was only the second time he had seen him this agitated. When he had raided the House of Dalton. And now.
When a single woman was involved, the Marquess often lost his reason.
"This is the place."
Curtis pushed the stiffened Robert aside and pressed his ear to the door. From inside the room, a soft, murmuring voice could be heard.
"Where does the baby bird sleep? It sleeps in the warmth of the mother bird’s wings. Where does the baby goat sleep? It sleeps in the softness of the mother goat’s fur. Where does our baby sleep..."
A tender and gentle voice. A melody that was low but flowed as softly as a spring breeze. Curtis’s hand, gripping the dagger, trembled slightly.
It was a song their mother used to sing for the siblings when they couldn't sleep. An eccentric Marchioness who, despite being a lady of the house, raised her children herself without a nanny. Whenever Frey had trouble sleeping, she would hold her daughter in her arms all night and repeat the same song. It was an old, worn-out lullaby that almost no one knew anymore.
"If I listen to this song, will Mother really sleep well?"
"Frey slept well, too. She will like it."
And it was a song he had once taught her.
"...My Lord?"
Seeing Curtis frozen as if time had stopped, Robert spoke up cautiously. Coming to his senses belatedly, Curtis pulled his ear away from the door as if burned.
The next moment, he kicked the door open violently.
"Aaaah!"
A shrill scream echoed through the room. Frey, as if just awakened, grabbed Roxana’s waist and clung to her.
"Save me!"
"Frey. It’s me."
Curtis approached cautiously and spoke to his sister.
"You need to go to your room and sleep."
His voice was gentle, but his eyes were menacing. A gaze that looked as if it would strangle someone at any moment bore down on Roxana.
Roxana, anticipating the reaction, did not speak hastily but instead patted the back of the trembling Frey.
"She is very startled. We must calm her down."
The moment the door opened, Frey and Roxana were equally shocked.
"Calm down?"
Curtis flinched at the formal tone he was hearing from her for the first time. To ensure Frey would not be further agitated, Roxana continued as calmly as possible.
"She won't be able to hear anything right now. Please give us a moment."
"..."
"I beg you. She is very frightened. It will only take a moment. Please, step outside."
In the eyes of the downcast Roxana, she could see the longsword gripped so tightly that the tendons in his hand stood out. The sensation of a sharp blade against her throat clung to her skin.
She had come here because she had been certain. She had thought that he, a man with a strong sense of responsibility, would not ignore his own people. But she had never thought about what would come after. What would happen to her for breaking her promise.
With a weapon before her eyes, her heart pounded loudly. As if to prove those words, a blade-like voice descended over her head again.
"Frey does not need a nanny."
Roxana was conscious of her shoulder, which was damp with Frey’s tears. Frey was terrified and on the verge of fainting. If a horrific slaughter were to occur in such a situation, there would be no turning back.
"I am not trying to treat her like a child. It will only take a moment. I beg you."
She could not back down. She had made up her mind, but her voice trembled. Roxana lifted her downcast gaze and met the jet-black eyes that were glaring at her as if to crush her windpipe. The air in the large room stood still, as if only the two of them existed.
Anger, bewilderment, shock, betrayal, and a faint longing.
The tangled emotions contained in those ash-colored eyes seeped into Roxana’s lungs.
It was a familiar gaze. Whenever Curtis faced her, several deep emotions would wash over her like waves, only to be swept away in an instant. They always pierced her heart and swirled around her in straight lines, not curves.
"My Lord."
In the tense, precarious atmosphere, Robert suddenly intervened.
"Lady Frey is..."
At the same time, the tense flow snapped, and the sword fell from Curtis’s hand. Frey was sleeping soundly in the arms of Roxana, who was protecting her like a mother bird. For the first time, without medicine.
It was a miracle.
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