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SERIES: What Remains in the Damaged Place
CHAPTER: What Remains in the Damaged Place 3
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3
“What in the...”
A cracked voice trickled out crudely. Soon, at a loss for words, she could only open and close her lips like a fish.
Faced with an object that felt utterly unreal, Lirette moved her legs with great effort. But it was starkly real, an undeniable presence that proved its existence by gripping her ankle like a vise, refusing to disappear.
*Click.*
As she was struggling and grunting, trying desperately to remove the shackle, the door suddenly swung open.
Lirette’s head whipped in that direction. The man’s face, so handsome it would be no exaggeration to say he was blessed by the gods, was unfamiliar to her.
Yet, with the few pieces of information she had, Lirette could deduce who he was. Her brow furrowed in a vulgar scowl directed at him.
“What is this?”
Despite Lirette’s sharp reaction, Valderion remained perfectly composed.
He pulled a chair from the side and sat before the bed, his movements so business-like they were utterly devoid of any superfluous gesture.
“It is winter now.”
“...?”
“A winter where the thought of running out without proper outdoor clothes or shoes can only be seen as madness.”
Lirette quickly understood the point the man was making.
“I admit, I didn't expect you to dash out so recklessly.”
The man, who had crossed his long legs, fixed her with a cold gaze.
“At the very least, I need a pretext to leave this place without worry.”
In other words, this was a measure to prevent Lirette’s escape.
“Take it off.”
“It’s quite impressive you made it that far, considering your poor condition. Should I call it a uselessly strong will?”
She had spoken with force in her voice, but the man paid her no mind. Lirette bit her lip, pressing it tightly.
Valderion studied her lovely face, which seemed overcome with indignation, as if to dissect it, then slowly leaned his upper body forward.
“What do you know about the Name?”
Lirette’s shoulders flinched.
She slowly edged her body backward, as if wanting to hide the name engraved on her back.
Seeing this, Valderion gave a cynical smile.
“Do you think that will hide it?”
She knew it wouldn't work, but she couldn't help it.
And why wouldn't she? It was this man’s name, after all.
Lirette vividly remembered how she had felt when she heard the royal physician’s diagnosis regarding the Name. It was impossible to define precisely, but it had been so devastating that she felt the sky falling would have been preferable.
“First, I want to inform you that this is one-sided, not mutual.”
“...”
“Your name has not appeared on my body.”
That much was obvious just from looking at him now.
Unlike her, who had been unable to muster any strength since the Name manifested, the man was perfectly fine. It was clear to see that he was annoyingly robust.
It seemed she was the only one bound and controlled by a name that had appeared out of nowhere.
Valderion lowered his eyes, recalling the information on Names that his aide, Moses, had hastily scraped together over the past few days.
There were two types of Names: mutual and one-sided.
A mutual Name manifested on both parties, while a one-sided Name appeared on only one of them.
‘The probability of a mutual manifestation is about 15% worldwide, while a one-sided manifestation is less than 3%. In other words, if a Name appears on one person, it is highly likely to appear on the other as well.’
‘Is there a way to distinguish between mutual and one-sided?’
‘It’s usually determined by time. If the other party does not manifest the Name within one year of the first manifestation, it is considered a one-sided Name.’
One year.
That meant, whether he liked it or not, he had to keep this woman with him for at least a year.
Recalling what Moses had told him, Valderion concisely recited the information about Names. As he spoke, Lirette’s complexion grew ashen, as if the snow from outside had been scraped up and plastered onto her face. As he had suspected, it seemed the royal court had not properly informed her of anything.
“Therefore, the fact that I must keep you for a year is irrefutable.”
To Lirette, those words sounded like a death sentence. That single phrase sent a chill through her, as if an invisible blade had just slid across her neck.
Behind his stern face, which looked as if it would remain unmoved even if she shrieked and threw a fit, the crest of the Ducal House of Justitia faintly shimmered.
The memory of that crest’s flag arriving at her family’s mansion one night rose up like bile.
‘...This is a clear act of treason against the Imperial Family. The titles of the five houses, including the Blewitt Marquisate, shall be stripped, and all members of those families shall be put to death.’
Sharp fragments of memory mercilessly stabbed at some part of her brain. How could a memory from years ago still be so vivid? Lirette clenched her fists, feeling a wave of nausea.
“Are you a virgin?”
But the words that came next shattered the composure she had struggled to find.
Lirette slowly lifted her face, her expression one of utter shock.
For a moment, she wondered if her ears had deceived her.
But the man, having thrown a question that could easily be taken as mockery, was calmly awaiting her answer.
“Why... would you ask such a thing?”
“I’m beginning to wonder what you were listening with during my explanation.”
“...”
“Or perhaps you have yet to properly grasp your own situation.”
Tilting his head, he rubbed his temple. In contrast to the utterly weary gesture, his eyes were sharp, as if demanding a firm answer.
“Are you not in a position where you absolutely need my help?”
“...”
“To survive, shouldn't you be begging me to hold you, casting aside all shame and decency?”
Valderion let out a short, sharp laugh.
It was because, upon hearing his words, Lirette wore an expression that said she wanted nothing more than to strike him.
The undisguised disgust on her face was so artless it almost seemed naive.
“Don’t take it so personally. I only asked because I’ve never seen a virgin among the wenches who rolled around under Dailan.”
Lirette took a deep breath to keep from getting flustered. She replayed his question in her mind.
*Are you a virgin?*
“You ask the obvious.”
“Why is it obvious? Are you not a woman?”
“No. At least, not under him.”
Her eyes, which had been averted diagonally as if to avoid his gaze, now looked straight at him for the first time. Her coral-colored eyes, reminiscent of the flower that symbolized spring, shone with resolve.
“One does not couple with livestock.”
“...”
“To him, that is all I was.”
Livestock. To call herself livestock.
To describe her own situation so scathingly.
And yet, her lifeless eyes showed no sign of feeling self-pity over that fact.
Valderion surmised that whatever vitality had once filled those eyes had been relentlessly damaged and destroyed under Dailan’s brutish nature.
Of course, that was none of his concern.
“I won’t run away, so please take this off.”
A sardonic smile touched Valderion’s lips once more.
“With that face, you say that so easily.”
“...”
“If you knew what your expression looks like right now, I guarantee you wouldn't say such a thing. It’s the face of someone who wants to snap my neck right here and bolt from this place immediately.”
Lirette glared at him, her thumb and forefinger, the only parts of her she could move with any strength, clutching the blanket.
An invisible current flowed between their locked gazes.
In the end, it was Lirette who looked away first.
She let her head fall weakly, as if just confronting Valderion had drained all her energy. Realizing that she had grasped reality and her will to resist had been broken, Valderion stood from the chair and added a final word.
“For now, focus on recovering.”
“...”
“Even if you use every means possible to get out of here, how far do you think you’ll get in such a wretched state?”
Lirette’s face filled with a growing sense of despair.
She couldn't take her eyes off the back of the man who, having said his piece, was now leaving the bedroom.
A memory from her childhood seemed to superimpose itself over him.
Of course, it wasn't him.
It was likely his father, the previous Duke Justitia...
Even so, the mere fact that this was the Justitia Duchy, that he was of Justitia blood, was horrifying and filled her with despair.
Lirette wrapped her arms around herself.
Why hadn't she died?
Why hadn't that cold, snowy field graciously pulled her into an eternal sleep?
Regret pooled inside her like tears.
* * *
Lirette Blewitt.
That was Lirette’s name before she lost all the honor and glory she had been born with.
The first patriarch of the historic Blewitt Marquisate was one of the meritorious contributors to the nation's founding, having supported the first emperor in every possible way when the country was established. Including the previous Marquis Blewitt, there were five great families in the Aleint Empire that shared the history of that era.
Lirette’s life began to warp the moment her father started dreaming of rebellion from beneath the surface.
Young at the time, Lirette did not properly understand what her father was plotting.
It was partly because the affair was conducted in such secrecy that it was hushed up both inside and outside the estate, and also because, on the surface, the marquisate was always so peaceful that she could never have suspected it was caught in the blind spot at the center of such a political struggle.
‘My child, my beloved Lirette.’
But in the face of a reality where small clues gradually led to a trail that was ultimately exposed.
When the flags of the Ducal House of Justitia surrounded the marquisate like a wall, her father had said those words.
‘This father of yours still believes he made the right decision.’
‘....’
‘The Imperial Family is corrupt. There is no one left who carries on the foundation of the first emperor. All that remains are foolish four-legged beasts who wield the power they were born with to commit evil and immoral acts. I felt no need to serve them, and I believed a new leader should be raised up.’
His clear voice held not a single trace of genuine regret. Amid the chaos that had erupted all around, Lirette stared at her father with fearful eyes.
She wanted to ask, but her lips would not open.
Instead, the questions pooled inside her.
*Why are they at the mansion, Father?*
*The the Ducal House of Justitia... why?*
They, the family of purgers who willingly dirtied their hands on behalf of the Imperial family—how, why?
Before the question could be answered, everything struck like a typhoon. The home where Lirette had been born and raised her entire life was swiftly laid to waste. Things were shattered, broken, and crushed.
Nothing remained. Everything lost its original form.
After sweeping through the marquisate in a brutal fashion, the Ducal House of Justitia dragged the frozen Lirette and her family to the Imperial Palace.
The gruesome execution took place before the eyes of the Imperial family.
‘I am no sinner. I merely took the lead in what had to be done. It is only sorrowful that my intentions have been distorted and misunderstood.’
The Imperial family wore bored expressions as they let her father, who cried out without a hint of wavering, stand at their feet.
Trembling in the ruthless, cold atmosphere of the Imperial Court, Lirette could only stare endlessly at her father’s back.
Soon, a gleaming blade slit her father’s throat.
It was a wretched end.
It rolled to a stop, coming into view as Lirette knelt on the ground. Atop the head that gurgled and spewed blood, the bloodshot eyes were still lucid.
Even in death, her father carried on his will of rebellion.
‘You cannot. No...! My child knows nothing. The child, at least spare the child...!’
The heads of her family members were taken, one by one. Her mother, the last one remaining, who had been pleading so earnestly, became a cold corpse in the blink of an eye.
Left all alone, Lirette stared blankly at the blood-stained surroundings. In her dazed vision, something was raised high. Her helpless gaze followed it. A long sword filled the view of her dimming retinas.
It was then.
‘Wait.’
The execution was halted.
It was due to someone's intervention.
All eyes turned to one place.
To the Crown Prince, Dailan, who occupied a seat on the imperial dais with an arrogant posture.
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