Chapter 14

Late at night, everyone except the guards standing watch had fallen into a deep sleep. The castle was so quiet that even the sound of leaves brushing against the wind echoed loudly.

Leonard Castle, built with great effort to prevent external intrusions, had a relatively simple interior structure. The central staircase, which connected all the way to the third floor, branched into corridors on both sides. The topmost floor was reserved for the Earl and Countess, while the floor below had guest rooms for occasional visitors. The ground floor housed the reception hall, study, and dining area.

After a round of intimacy, Catherine had fallen into a deep sleep alongside Henry in the central bedroom on the third floor.

Meanwhile, Richelle was sleeping in a guest room at the end of the second-floor hallway. She used to share the central bedroom on the third floor with Werner, but as she was no longer the Marchioness, she had no choice but to use the guest room. However, Richelle seemed resentful about losing her place to Henry, as she clung to Marina late into the night, lamenting her situation.

To Marina, who had been born to parents with nothing, had never received an education, and had spent her life doing menial chores, Richelle’s complaints were enviable in their own way.

As Marina listened to Richelle’s repetitive grievances, the night stretched on until the early hours of morning. After covering Richelle with a blanket as she finally fell asleep, Marina gathered the teacups and kettle and left the room. She had to be especially careful when walking on the marble floor. If she wasn’t vigilant, the heels of her shoes could clatter loudly against the stone, so Marina walked on her tiptoes, taking each step cautiously.

The teapot was quite heavy. Trying to balance all the weight on her toes made her feet cramp. Gritting her teeth, Marina tightened her grip on the tray she was carrying. The thought of going down to the first floor to put away the dishes and tidy up made her sigh. By the time she finished cleaning and returned to the annex, she would likely have to wake up immediately after lying down. Such was the fate of a servant, especially one who had to match the schedule of Henry, who started his day before dawn. Feeling the creak in her joints from her shoulders to her knees, Marina pursed her lips and let out a deep sigh.

Whoosh.

Something suddenly brushed past Marina’s path as she walked, staring down at the floor. Startled by the unexpected presence, Marina quickly raised her head. At this hour, there should have been no one here. Other than the two guards stationed at the central staircase on the first floor, no one was supposed to be wandering the castle at this time. Blinking her eyes in the darkness, Marina looked around.

“Did I imagine it…?”

There was nothing. Her eyes met those of a person in a large painting hanging on the corridor wall. If there was any human figure to be found here, it was only in that painting.

“I must be tired and seeing things.”

A chill ran down her spine. Marina shivered and resumed walking. As she hurried along, still feeling uneasy, someone stood behind her, smiling as they watched her.

“Ma-ri-na.”

The figure, whose voice vaguely resembled Marina’s name, began scratching the wall with their fingernails.

“Ma-ri-na. Ma-ri-na.”

After scratching at the wall for some time, the figure confirmed that Marina had descended to the first floor and began to chuckle. The laughter was so eerie that, had Marina heard it, she would have surely dropped the tray she was carrying.

The figure, whose shoulders shook with laughter, mimicked Marina by tiptoeing and walking silently. Reaching the staircase, they paused for a moment to look around before heading up to the third floor without hesitation.

“Ma-ri-na, Ma-ri-na, Ma-ri-na, Henry.”

The figure muttered Henry’s name as if they knew he was on the third floor.

“He-hen-ry. He-ry. Henry.”

Even as they climbed the stairs, the stranger’s muttering didn’t stop. The corners of their mouth curled into a sinister grin.

***

As expected, Henry had disappeared at the crack of dawn and didn’t show up for breakfast that morning. Catherine took a sip of water as she observed the woman sitting across from her.

At a long table capable of seating twenty people, only Catherine and Richelle sat facing each other.

Given their unpleasant first meeting, Catherine found the meal uncomfortable. Sharing a table with someone rude enough to ask a stranger if they were stupid was far more uncomfortable than she had anticipated.

Like Henry, Catherine wanted to skip breakfast. However, leaving a guest to eat alone would be impolite, so Catherine forced herself to sit at the table. Just because the other person lacked manners didn’t mean she could do the same. Catherine was so focused on Richelle that she barely noticed whether the food went down her throat or her nose.

Richelle, holding a fork, stared intently at Catherine. Her gaze was so burdensome that Catherine found it hard to even swallow a sip of water. If she had something to say, she could just say it. Sitting there with her mouth shut and staring at someone was unbearably rude.

“What do you want?”

For the first time since sitting at the table, Richelle spoke.

“Pardon?”

Catherine didn’t understand the abrupt question. She set down her glass and looked at Richelle.

“If you’re from the Annette Ducal House, you must have had plenty of good matches. Why come all the way to this remote place?”

There was no courtesy in her words. Speaking as if addressing someone far beneath her, Richelle’s tone irritated Catherine.

“Why are you so slow to answer?”

Richelle’s face twisted in annoyance, unable to endure even the brief silence as Catherine thought of a response. Her disregard for the other person’s feelings or circumstances, combined with her habit of blurting out whatever she wanted to say, was a mirror image of the Duke of Orleans. Catherine wondered how someone so uncultured could have become the Marchioness of Leonard. Richelle’s face overlapped with her grandfather’s in Catherine’s mind, and she had to look away.

Revealing that their marriage was a contract would serve no purpose. Keeping the terms of the contract a strict secret was part of Catherine and Henry’s agreement. Prepared for such questions, Catherine gave the answer she had rehearsed.

“Isn’t love the only reason for marriage? Asking why someone got married seems a bit odd.”

“A marriage for love? You expect me to believe that? What a joke.”

Richelle laughed loudly as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing.

When dealing with someone unreasonable, it’s best to avoid engaging with them as much as possible. Richelle seemed like someone who didn’t adhere to common sense. Continuing the conversation would only lead to more discomfort. Deciding to finish her meal quickly and leave, Catherine picked up her glass again.

“Did you have some other purpose in mind when you got married, Madame? You seem unable to believe in a marriage for love.”

Catherine smiled sweetly as she countered Richelle’s words. Richelle had not expected Catherine to strike back, and her face reddened slightly.

As Catherine raised her glass, Marina, who had been waiting by the side of the table, approached with a pitcher of water. Pouring water into Catherine’s glass, Marina glanced at Richelle, trying to gauge her mood. Unaware of the silent exchange between the two, Catherine brought the glass to her lips.

“Your mother died when you were young, didn’t she?”

Catherine’s hand froze mid-air. Richelle’s provocation had finally struck a nerve. She had brought up Catherine’s mother, Stella, without warning.

“What was it that caused her death…?”

Richelle tapped her lips with her finger, pretending to think. Though she furrowed her brow as if in deep thought, the faint smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

“Oh, right. Didn’t she fall off a cliff while running away with a man?”

Richelle covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. To laugh while speaking of someone’s death—she was truly a terrifying woman. Catherine glared at Richelle, her hands trembling.

“Stop it.”

“I remember how the social circles were abuzz back then. It’s not every day that a noblewoman abandons her family to run off with a penniless man, is it?”

“I said, stop.”

Despite Catherine’s warning, Richelle continued unfazed.

“So, you’re the daughter of a woman who lost herself in love and died for it. That explains why you’re so obsessed with love.”

Richelle chuckled, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Whatever she found so amusing, it made her laugh even harder.

“Enough!”

Catherine could no longer hold back. She slammed her utensils onto the table and stood abruptly.

Her fingertips quivered. Never before had she encountered someone who could look her in the eye and humiliate her so thoroughly.

‘This woman is just as bad as Grandfather—or perhaps even worse.’

At that moment, Catherine felt a pang of resentment toward Henry for not being there with her. Even if he only saw her as a wife to bear his children, how could he leave her to face such scorn alone? She couldn’t help but feel bitter toward him.

“Oh dear, what’s with your face? You’re not crying, are you?”

Richelle’s smile remained firmly in place. The more flustered Catherine appeared, the more Richelle seemed to revel in it.

“Thinking about your dead mother must be bringing tears to your eyes. Marina, fetch the Madam a handkerchief.”

Richelle dabbed her mouth with a napkin and rose from her seat.

“You two suit each other so well. I hope you stay together for a thousand years.”

With that sarcastic remark, Richelle left the dining room. Catherine’s eyes, filled with red-tinged tears, followed Richelle’s retreating figure with a gaze that could kill.