Chapter 2.4

Passing through the hallway filled with loud snoring, Frances paused in front of a door, holding the key in her hand. She hesitated for a moment. 

But after tonight, she didn’t know when she would see him again. Summoning her courage, Frances inserted the key. 

The door opened soundlessly, as if it had been well-oiled. 

As soon as the door opened, a cold breeze greeted Frances. The moonlight that reached her feet shimmered, but Frances paid it no mind. Her gaze was fixed solely on the figure lying on the old bed. 

“Hello, Duvel.” 

The moment Frances saw Kailen’s face bathed in moonlight, she unconsciously greeted him. Hearing his breath echo like a faint whisper, Frances lowered her head deeply. 

Seeing him alive in front of her brought a wave of relief. 

“…To think that you’re alive and breathing.” 

Although he was drunk, seeing him intact with her own eyes made her chest ache. Frances hurriedly let the tears that welled up fall to the floor as she took in Kailen’s appearance. Her eyes sparkled as they reflected the moonlight. 

During the day, the sea that had radiated a brilliant blue now, under the cover of night, was swallowed by darkness and rippled as if pushing its waters toward the land. 

“Mm.” 

Seeing Kailen shiver at the sea breeze blowing through the open window, Frances took a step forward. 

She couldn’t simply pass by his pale, ashen cheeks. She only intended to close the window and leave. 

By now, Laura must have gone to Hans’s house, and the chaos caused by Frances’s disappearance would have kept him busy. By dawn at the latest, he would come looking for her. 

The moment Frances faced Kailen, alive and breathing, she decided not to run from her fate. She chose to abandon all the countless possibilities that had wandered through her mind and to step back into the hell she had left behind. 

Clack! 

As she closed the salt-stained wooden window, the fierce wind subsided. Frances, tidying her windblown hair, suddenly froze in place. 

A faint warmth lingered on the wrist that had grown cold. 

The soft sound of breathing, like a sigh, sent shivers down her spine. Her wrist, now caught, tingled sharply. 

“Ah…” 

She bit her lip too late to stifle her scream, but it was already too late. 

“Who are you?” 

She didn’t even have time to process the suddenly flipped view before she found herself restrained. Kailen had pinned her down on the bed, holding both her hands tightly. Lying beneath him on his bed, she looked up at him. 

“…” 

The overwhelming emotion she felt now was entirely different from the relief she had felt earlier when she had watched him sleep and confirmed he was alive. This wasn’t the Kailen who had struggled to breathe, gasping for air. 

“Who the hell are you to look at me like that?” 

When he opened his eyes and saw the shadow cast over him, his first thought was that she was a thief.  

His body moved faster than his mind, as expected of someone who had wielded a sword for so long, and he subdued her before he could think. But seeing Frances cry as if her emotions were overflowing left Kailen unable to hide his confusion. 

“…Sorry.” 

“What?”  

Kailen, startled by the sudden apology, momentarily loosened his grip on Frances. Though this didn’t mean she could escape his grasp, having even a little freedom in her hands was enough for Frances. 

Her battered hands, cut and scarred from digging through ashes and broken glass, reached out to touch Kailen’s face. 

Even though her touch was rougher than that of women who had worked at the seaside for years, Kailen couldn’t pull away from it. 

The two locked eyes, gazing into each other’s depths. 

“You’re the thief, so why does it feel like I’m the one who’s guilty?” 

An inexplicable wave of emotion surged within him. Her eyes, glistening in the moonlight, resembled a hidden lake deep within a forest. 

And in that lake, water rippled as if it would swallow him whole. 

“You were like this once too.” 

Frances gently caressed Kailen’s face, murmuring softly, as if she knew him well. A faint smile appeared on her lips, causing Kailen to frown. 

He felt as though his pride had been wounded, as if he were being treated like a child. 

“Who are you? What exactly did you come here to steal?” 

He was already planning to drag her to the guards. As the eldest son of the Duvel family, no one had ever dared to treat him like this. 

“If we ever met again, I wanted to apologize. Duvel.” 

“What… What are you saying?” 

Tears streamed endlessly from Frances’s green eyes, which were fixed on Kailen’s face. A whirlwind of emotions—joy, guilt, relief, and regret—raged within her. 

“…I’m glad we could meet again like this.” 

Frances wrapped her arms around Kailen’s neck and pulled him down. Kailen instinctively held his breath as a warm sensation trailed down the back of his neck. 

It was just her touch, yet the cold that had weighed down his body disappeared. 

“W-what!” 

Kailen’s eyes began to blur under Frances’s movements. Though her gestures were faint, Frances, once a knight who had commanded the Empire, was skilled at subduing people. 

Regrettably, their encounter had to fade like a fleeting midday dream. 

Frances brought her cracked lips, rough from countless hardships, to Kailen’s forehead. 

Her actions were desperate, as if she were breathing life back into what had been lost because of her. 

* * * 

Clang, clang. 

The sound of swords clashing made Frances lift her head. Despite the creaking noise that echoed with every step she took, Kailen remained unconscious. After all, he had drunk Horna’s strong liquor and had his pressure points pressed—it was only natural. 

Frances, crouched on the floor with her back against the door, quietly observed Kailen’s breathing before slowly standing up. 

Confirming that he was still breathing faintly, she turned her gaze toward the window. Outside, the foggy mist had consumed everything in sight, leaving only a faint trace of the receding darkness. 

Frances staggered as she rose from her spot. Her body, which had been sitting in the same position for so long, screamed in protest, but she ignored it. 

After giving Kailen one last look as he slept soundly, she turned and left. 

As she stepped out of the room, the cold dawn air enveloped her like it had been waiting for her. But Frances had no time to relish the chill of the early morning. 

She quickly climbed the servants’ staircase. Even then, she walked on her toes to avoid making any noise. 

Despite her return, she was sickened by how weak her body had become. 

When she finally reached her room and was trying to calm her ragged breathing, it happened. 

Click. 

The door, which she had hoped would never open, creaked open cautiously. 

“Well, well. I thought you’d be fast asleep by now, but I guess I don’t have to go through the trouble of waking you.” 

Frances suppressed her rising breath and glared at the man who had rudely entered without knocking. 

The mocking tone in his voice, dripping with disdain, amused her. 

“Good for you.” 

“What?” 

The man, who had started to approach Frances, paused at her words. Brady’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at her. 

Watching the expressions on Brady’s face change by the second, Frances smiled brightly. 

This was not the same appearance as when she had clumsily disguised herself as a man under Iris’s orders. 

Brady rubbed his eyes. 

Silver hair and green eyes. 

Seeing the shabby skirt she had borrowed from Laura, Brady opened his mouth. 

“Frances.” 

“That’s right. I’m the Frances you’ve been looking for.” 

“You… You were a woman?” 

At Brady’s words, the corners of Frances’s lips curved gracefully upward. Seeing the astonished look on Brady’s face felt like a ten-year weight had been lifted from her chest. 

It was as though she had finally freed herself from the humiliation she had felt when he first discovered she was a woman. The thought of erasing those miserable memories from the past sent a thrilling shiver down her spine. 

“Yes, and so what?” 

“What do you mean, ‘so what’!?” 

Brady couldn’t finish his sentence. He had heard that she was a man living in the slums with her mother. Until he met Frances in person, Brady hadn’t doubted for a second that Frances was male. 

His plan to quietly abduct her amidst the chaos of the fire had been thwarted by the sudden appearance of a middle-aged woman. 

Exhaustion from the relentless search for Frances boiled into anger. Brady’s eyes gleamed like a predator’s as he stared at her. Watching him lick his lips, Frances gave a bitter smile. Nothing about him had changed. 

“Your eyes seem to enjoy the fact that I’m a woman.” 

“You’ve been fooling people all this time, haven’t you?” 

Brady ran a hand through his hair, letting out a languid sigh. 

“Was I really that good at fooling people? Or are you just that stupid?” 

At Frances’s words, Brady’s eyes narrowed sharply. The fatigue that had pushed him to his limits made his eyes sting as if they were splitting apart, but he didn’t stop glaring at her. 

“Even if you’re only half-blood, you inherited the Duke Wiblo’s lineage, didn’t you? Impressive. To dare run your mouth like this in front of me.” 

Frances’s gaze shifted to the edge of Brady’s sleeve. 

The dark red stains were unmistakably human blood. Since Brady appeared unharmed, it clearly wasn’t his own. 

“You handled the man well, I assume?” 

At Francis’s question, Brady met her eyes in silence. The word “death” flowed from the mouth of this frail-looking girl as if it were nothing. Her face remained utterly calm, as if she had anticipated this all along, and it sent a chill through Brady’s bones.

Brady felt a chill deep in his bones as he looked at her face. 

“…Did you send him to me on purpose? To have me kill him?” 

“There was no need for me to dirty my hands. That’s your job, isn’t it?” 

Her casual tone of condescension almost made Brady instinctively lower his head, but he stifled a laugh instead. From the beginning, she had been no easy opponent. Her audacious demeanor only fueled his competitive spirit. 

Perhaps this was even a chance to taste the flesh of a noble daughter, however illegitimate she might be.

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“Do you really think that kind of threat will work on me right now?” 

At Frances’s calm response, Brady let out a deep sigh. She was right. He knew exactly where the Duchess’s wrath would be directed if anything happened. 

“What exactly are you relying on to act so arrogantly?” 

“Brady Leric. I believe someone once told you to use your left hand when committing murder. What’ll you do if you leave traces like that?”

At her words, Brady’s eyes widened. His gaze filled with suspicion as he stared at Frances, who looked down at him with a haughty expression. 

“Curious? About how I know?” 

“…” 

Brady remained silent, but his piercing gaze didn’t waver from her. 

“Who do you think gave me my name?”

The whites of Brady’s eyes flushed red. She had never once seen the man people called her father. She’d never even thought to question where her name came from.

But now, the thought crept in—maybe Iris had stolen it. Maybe she’d taken that name from the man who’d abandoned them. A desperate act from a mother who wanted to leave her child with at least a trace of the father who’d given them nothing.

As Frances thought of Iris, she closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been in contact with the Duke this whole time?” 

Frances smiled. 

Wearing a mask was as easy as breathing for her. Disrupting someone’s mind came just as naturally. 

“…” 

“My goodness!”

Brady, interpreting Francis’s silence as confirmation, pressed his hand to his forehead. His brows furrowed deeply, indicating how troubled he was by the situation.

“If you’re content staying where you are, then drag me off like a dog—just like you were taught to. But if you want to go higher than this… then bow your head. Kneel before me.”