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SERIES: What Remains in the Damaged Place
CHAPTER: What Remains in the Damaged Place 8
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8
True to his word, Valderion’s dream of a ‘perfect life as a Duke’ included marriage, one of life’s great affairs.
Part of this blueprint was his betrothal to the daughter of Marquis Floyden, a connection maintained since childhood, and it was quite solid. If it were revealed that he had a Name partner, this matter would be the first to cause problems. If it ended up being only one-sided, however, the issue would never need to surface at all. Therefore, for the time being, it was better to hide it.
“Poor Lirette...”
Dailan, his chin propped on his hand, whispered as he watched a clean stream of water flow with a clear sound. Beneath his calmly lowered eyelids, his languidly open blue eyes were so opaque it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
“Well, fine.”
The next moment, they took on an excessively brilliant sheen.
“Since it is a request from you, my dear, I will grant your wish. However, there is a condition.”
“A condition?”
“After one year, if Lirette’s Name does not manifest on you, return her to me.”
Valderion frowned in spite of himself.
“...Return her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Must there be a reason?”
“...”
“She was mine to begin with.”
What was this whim now?
It was always like this, but it seemed that eccentric nature of his, which had never once been understandable, had kicked in again.
It wasn’t so long ago that he had handed Lirette over, saying, ‘She’s yours now, take her.’
But Dailan was the type to change his words as his mood suited him, so Valderion couldn’t bring himself to call him out on it. The Crown Prince was the kind of person who only became more tiresome the more sincerely you dealt with him.
“If the Name doesn’t appear, she’ll be a useless girl to you anyway.”
Hearing Dailan’s added words, the image of a sensitively trembling Lirette came to mind as well.
A beat later, he found himself wondering why he should even be thinking of such a thing.
Instead of a verbal reply, he gave a single nod.
The atmosphere was subtly frozen, as if touched by the chill of winter.
* * *
A few days later.
Valderion, who had been busy with state affairs since early morning, straightened his attire and left his office upon an unexpected report from his butler.
Just as he had felt during his conversation with Dailan, the air was still layered with thin ice. A guest, on a winter day like this, arriving without any appointment.
He had already been told who it was.
Valderion couldn't decide whether to point out the rudeness that was beneath her station, or to worry that she might have found some clue regarding his situation.
“Lady Floyden.”
Inside the reception room, a woman in an ivory dress decorated with sapphires lifted her head at the call. Her tangerine-colored hair, which flowed down to her waist, swayed with the movement.
Kamille, gathering the hem of her dress, rose to her feet and greeted him first.
“Have you been well?”
“Of course, Your Grace. I was worried you might be surprised by my unannounced visit today.”
Valderion’s lips curved into a barely perceptible smile as he headed for the seat opposite her. When expressionless, his features were as cold as frost, but because he was so handsome, even a slight smile could change the atmosphere.
It was no exception for his fiancée, Kamille; she couldn't take her eyes off the approaching Valderion.
“I haven't heard from you at all since the last banquet, so I took the liberty of visiting like this.”
Her face, expressing concern over whether her visit had caused any trouble, was almost excessively lovely.
She didn’t rule high society for nothing.
Kamille knew exactly how to make herself look lovely. Valderion could name that very point as the reason he continued their engagement.
If one was to become the mistress of the Ducal House of Justitia, shouldn’t she be able to grasp high society with ease?
The last banquet.
That was about a week before he was summoned to the imperial palace by Dailan. In other words, as soon as the banquet ended, Valderion had become entangled with Lirette and had been busy in many ways.
“Also, His Highness the Crown Prince sent a gift for the two of us.”
“A gift?”
“It’s black tea he acquired from a foreign merchant group that recently visited the empire. It’s made from a specialty product that grows only in certain regions of that country, so it’s said to be very famous. He enclosed a letter hoping that you and I would enjoy the gift together and spend some quality time...”
He had thought it a mere impulse, but there was a clear intention behind the act.
So, Dailan is playing his pointless games.
Valderion simply defined this cause and effect and sat down, crossing his legs.
“His Highness has graciously taken care of even such minor details.”
Kamille, who had been nervously glancing at Valderion, beamed at his words.
“Oh. I heard there’s a glasshouse here.”
“There is.”
“Perhaps we could have our tea there?”
Valderion readily agreed and rose to his feet.
“The path to the glass garden is outdoors, so it will be a bit cold.”
“That’s alright.”
Kamille smiled brightly. Her face was full of vivacious energy.
Watching her, Valderion thought for a very brief moment, a fleeting instant, of a woman who was only ever pale and sickly.
But it was a truly trivial gap, and by the time he took a step, it had faded away like a lingering scent.
Meanwhile.
Lirette pressed her palm against the cold windowpane. A chilling sensation unhesitatingly enveloped her fingertips. Her eyes, gazing outside, were devoid of energy.
Just then, something entered her field of vision.
A man and a woman, who had emerged from the eastern building and begun to stroll through the garden together.
The woman was a stranger, but the man was impossible not to know.
The master of this mansion.
The master of this bedroom.
And the master of the name engraved on her back...
Even from a distance, it was obvious they were close. The woman, who appeared to be a noble lady, clung to his side, chattering ceaselessly like a lark and adding a pretty smile. Despite the considerable distance, Lirette could see Valderion also smiling from time to time in response to her words.
They were a rather well-matched pair. Seeing that much was enough for Lirette to deduce their relationship.
‘So he has a fiancée.’
In the world of the upper class, marriage was used as a means to expand power by joining one house to another, so preparations often began at a very early age. An engagement was the cornerstone of that preparation. As a high noble among nobles, the Ducal House of Justitia would have been all the more thorough in this matter.
‘Come to think of it...’
Lirette, her hand still on the window, glanced back.
Since she began staying here, she had not seen a single servant besides the butler. Not even a doctor. All matters were handled either by Valderion, who came in person, or by the butler, who only carried out his orders.
Mulling over this closed-off situation, Lirette couldn’t help but have a sudden realization.
‘Is he hiding me?’
As of yet, there was no word to define her and Valderion. Their relationship was fluid. And for the year he had mentioned, it would remain unfixed, constantly wavering.
Until it was decided whether this joke of the gods was mutual or one-sided.
If it turned out to be one-sided, he had said he wouldn’t stop her from going wherever she wished. In other words, that was tantamount to saying he would cast her out.
If that happened, he, as the Duke of Justitia, would keep his position secure with nothing lost. Until he gained the certainty that this could become a reality, the Duke intended to hide her completely from the world.
“...”
Her gaze slid downward.
When she moved her ankle slightly, the shackle made its heavy presence known with a clanking sound. Lirette’s colorless eyes, which seemed to have become one with it, blinked slowly.
Under Valderion’s flawless plan, Lirette, too, had to prepare.
To do that, getting free from this shackle was the first priority.
There was only one key to solving it.
“What do I have to do for you to take this off?”
The person who had ordered this shackle to be put on her.
When evening came, Lirette asked Valderion as he entered the bedroom. It was his first visit in a long time, not since the day they had not only argued without yielding an inch but had ended up in a physical struggle.
The question, fired off before he could even sit down, stopped Valderion in his tracks. He scanned Lirette’s determined face and scoffed.
“You might as well ask a cat to guard a fish.”
“I won’t run away.”
Acting as if he hadn’t heard a word, he grabbed the back of the sofa and looked at Lirette properly.
“I understand now. My condition, and what I truly need.”
Indeed, she acted as if she had finally and humbly accepted her circumstances. The way she demurely lowered her eyes was docile. Perhaps because he had only ever seen her glaring at him as if she wanted to tear him limb from limb or talking back at every turn, this submissive posture was quite a change.
He leaned crookedly against the sofa he was holding and glanced at her ankle.
Next, her unstable posture caught his eye.
Her condition had worsened in just a few days. The sight of it made his expression harden involuntarily.
“Do you really understand?”
The man did not hide his feelings as he sat on the sofa.
“They say a Name is a thread of the soul.”
Leaning back on the sofa, he untied the cravat that was neatly fastened around his neck.
“In the sense that it binds two souls.”
“...”
“If the Name becomes mutual, our conditions will also resonate.”
Resonate?
Not quite understanding, Lirette tilted her head.
Valderion dropped the loosened cravat to the floor. As his eyes took in the pathetic, crumpled heap, he murmured in a deeper voice.
“If your health is in jeopardy, I too am greatly affected.”
“...”
“When you suffer, I suffer too.”
His gaze slowly lifted.
At last, their eyes met.
“If you die, I die too.”
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