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SERIES: What Remains in the Damaged Place
CHAPTER: What Remains in the Damaged Place 58
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58
‘Is there something urgent you wish to discuss?’
Her reason, which had been endlessly plummeting beneath the surface, was pulled back up by the Duke's monotonous tone.
‘I thought it must be urgent, for you to come all this way.’
From his impassive tone, Camille sensed a boundary.
Though she stood so close to him now, she could not cross that line.
The woman lying in the bed.
The maid she had likely injured by spilling tea, and for some reason she couldn't fathom, the living seed of a traitor.
Unlike the woman who had so casually crossed the line into his private domain, she…….
A sense of self-loathing, or perhaps self-destruction?
Faced with a raging tide of emotions she couldn't clearly distinguish, Camille could say nothing.
There was nothing to do but retreat quietly, so as not to displease him.
That was the last she saw of the Duke's face.
Regardless of her feelings, the hunt had concluded successfully, and today was a week and four days past that.
The unsightly emotions that had overwhelmed her left a deep and lingering aftereffect. Nothing brought her joy, and nothing sparked her interest. The summer that had exhausted her was already over, yet the unpleasantness lingered, as if she were still wandering in the sweltering heat.
It felt as if a thorn were embedded in her fingertip.
“My lady!”
Just then, a murmuring noise arose from outside.
Camille, who had been reclining on a long sofa as if lying down, sat up with a listless expression.
“What is it?”
“A gift has just arrived for you, my lady!”
“A gift? From whom?”
“It’s… from the Duchy of Justitia!”
Camille's eyes widened.
Justitia?
What a sudden and unexpected development.
Camille wondered if the name that had just reached her ears was truly the same one that had been unsettling her mind until moments ago.
But the maid's overwhelmed expression confirmed it was true.
Camille rose from the sofa, a dazed look on her face.
“The box is so large it had to be brought by carriage. I wonder what on earth the Duke could have sent?”
Even as they descended the stairs, the maid was bursting with excitement.
At first, she was bewildered, but with someone beside her who accepted this event with pure delight, Camille's own spirits began to lift a little.
He hadn't even treated her as his fiancée during the hunt, but now that it was over and they were back to reality, was he finally noticing her?
She felt a little jealous and resentful, but despite that, her heart, so fickle, showed signs of softening. Perhaps opening the gift he sent would disarm her completely.
Passing through the hall and lobby and stepping outside, Camille was indeed surprised by the size of the box, which far exceeded her expectations, just as the maid had said. It was so enormous she couldn't have wrapped her arms around it even if she stretched them wide.
What on earth could be inside?
“My lady, here.”
A maid who had come out first to meet the gift carriage politely held out an accompanying letter.
The ivory-colored letter was as small as the palm of her hand.
Camille broke the wax seal and took out what was inside.
The message, written in an elegant hand, was concise. It simply urged her to open the box herself.
Seeing this, Camille realized it was the first time she had ever received a letter from him. It was always she who sent them, as if to show which one of them was pining and desperate in the relationship…….
Feeling an inexplicable tightness in her chest, Camille carefully put the letter away and approached the box.
A crimson ribbon asserted its presence, as if begging to be pulled. Camille grabbed it and pulled.
With a soft rustle of fabric, the ribbon came undone.
Two servants standing on either side opened the large box on their lady's behalf.
“Aah!”
“W-what is that?”
The atmosphere, once filled with anticipation and excitement, instantly curdled into horror and fear.
What emerged from the gradually opening box was something she could never have imagined.
“A p-person…?”
It was a person.
But not in any normal state.
The figure inside was limp and motionless, little more than a bundle of rags.
The body, curled up and clad in a single chemise, was so stained with wounds it could be called blood-soaked. It looked as if she had been locked away somewhere and brutally tortured for days on end.
“My lady!”
Someone urgently pulled Camille back.
From the gap in the opened box, something squeaking scurried out.
Startled, Camille stumbled backward, tripped on the hem of her skirt, and fell.
Thump. As she fell, her view lowered, and a crimson light glittered before her eyes.
A red-eyed mouse.
“Be careful, my lady!”
“Get something, now! It'll be a disaster if my lady gets bitten!”
It was a creature known to be venomous.
One of them, which had been scurrying frantically around the box, stopped dead and raised its front paws. It did this the moment its eyes met Camille's. The way it tilted its head in that state was not the least bit cute.
Recalling that a bite from it could be fatal, she found it merely repulsive.
The servants, moving quickly, brought brooms and mops and beat them to death.
Fortunately, any real harm was averted, but a heavy silence settled over them in layers.
Camille was helped to her feet.
With a half-dazed expression, she took one step, then another, toward the box.
Her fingertips trembled as she drew closer.
Short brown hair and a pale face dotted with freckles.
She knew her.
There was no way she wouldn't know her.
For she was the very spy Camille had secretly planted in the Duchy of Justitia.
‘You needn't think of it as so difficult.’
She had been a naive and youthful woman who, in front of Camille, had unabashedly shown her mixed feelings of nervousness and excitement.
‘It won't be a very difficult task.’
There had been no hesitation in Camille's hand as she wrote the letter of recommendation that would get her into the Duchy of Justitia. Of course, there wasn't. She had not expected this outcome.
She could not have foreseen such a horrific result.
Camille was speechless at the sight before her eyes—a state so utterly wretched and miserable.
No, it was beyond what words could describe.
Even though it was someone else, a chilling sensation crept over her from head to toe, as if she herself had been reduced to such a state.
The fine hairs on her body stood on end, and a feeling as if her nape and spine were curling up, covered in goosebumps…….
Ah, yes.
Is this what it feels like to fear the consequences?
“Ugh.”
Camille hastily stepped back, clamping a hand over her mouth. A bitter wave of nausea surged up from within her.
“My lady!”
A maid hurried over to support her.
Staggering like someone struck with dizziness, Camille couldn't tear her eyes away from the inside of the box, even as they led her away.
Only then did some things begin to make sense.
Why one must never make an enemy of the Duchy of Justitia.
Why her father was so anxious, worried he might displease them in some way…….
The mistake she had made, driven by emotion, had been exposed so nakedly.
* * *
“The gift has arrived safely, they report.”
Inside the glasshouse, filled with the rich scent of flowers.
His aide, Moses, reported softly as he stepped back after lighting his cigar.
At his report, Valderion recalled a slender, tear-filled voice.
‘S-she said I just had to observe the master's movements and report back. Th-then she would give me a large sum of money…….’
The discovered spy was a maid belonging to the mansion.
After brutal torture, she had confessed everything. Her role was truly just that: to observe his movements and report to Floyden.
Since rumors had begun to spread that Lilette, disguised as a maid, was his mistress warming his bed, it was only natural that reports on the matter had been sent as well.
That was the very point where Camille's wicked scheme had taken root and sprouted.
In the tearful torrent of words pouring from her throat, there was no information about the Name.
The part he had feared most, thankfully, did not seem to have been exposed yet.
Having found out what he needed to, all that remained was to show her the door.
Instead of sending her away gently, Valderion returned the warning to Camille, who had so audaciously warned him.
A warning that the gods in heaven, and he himself, knew of the insolent deed she had committed.
It was a rather savage and merciless method, even considering the bounds of human decency, let alone their special relationship as fiancés.
But Valderion knew full well. Even if he did this, the House of Marquis Floyden would be unable to take any action.
The difference in status between the two families was that immense.
‘If anything, she should be grateful.’
It was true.
She had made a very fatal mistake. If the Name had manifested bilaterally instead of unilaterally, it was a dizzying incident where he himself might have perished.
If he had his way, he would have liked to eliminate the House of Marquis Floyden itself, like removing a thorn in his side. However, in his position at the center of politics and finance, standing aloof like the eye of a storm, he could not simply act as he pleased.
A nation was not run by just one or two people.
It required a base of support from many, and could only be maintained by the power that held it up. To cut them off without thought could be tantamount to carving out his own flesh. It could devolve into an act of eating away at himself.
He knew this better than anyone, which was why he had concluded matters this way, but he could not easily endure the feeling of displeasure.
The solid walls he had painstakingly built up over a long time to protect the power granted under the name of Justitia. For the first time in his life, he felt the unwelcome sensation of those very walls closing in on him, suffocating him.
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