“Ughyaah.”

Hailey flung open her bedroom window and took in a deep breath of the morning air. The third morning had arrived, and she was still alive.

A small sparrow fluttered in and landed on the windowsill.

“The Duke set it for three days, so maybe I should hold out just one more? Hello, Brutus.”

Hailey exchanged a brief greeting with the sparrow before straightening her clothes and stepping out of the room. As she cheerfully moved forward, Brutus tilted his head as if he found her odd.

“Good morni—”

As she descended the stairs and greeted the household, her words trailed off.

Madame Mastis, who had been sternly giving instructions to the maids, turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Good morning, Miss Hailey.”

Her voice was rigid. But perhaps it was just Hailey’s imagination, or maybe there was a faint warmth seeping through. Hailey’s expression softened.

“Oh, I’m relieved, Madame Mastis. It really is a good morning.”

Hailey greeted her without hiding her delight. She had come downstairs earlier than usual, half-expecting she’d have to serve the Duke again today.

“I can’t have you leaving this mansion on your own feet.”

Madame Mastis spoke without a change in expression. Her strict tone made it difficult to recognize the remark as a joke at first.

“Haha.”

By the time Hailey let out a small chuckle, the woman had already disappeared. Her awkward laughter echoed emptily in the vast hallway.

Scrunching her nose in slight embarrassment, Hailey hesitated for a moment before heading to the morning room. There, she spotted the Duke seated with his back to her, sipping his tea.

She had expected him to still be in his bedroom.

Although Tayton must have sensed her presence behind him, he did not turn around. Hailey resumed her steps and greeted him politely.

“Good morning, Your Grace. You’re up quite early.”

Draped in a robe over his loungewear, Tayton slowly lifted his gaze. His mask was, as always, firmly in place. Beneath the black veil, his sharp silver eyes gleamed with an imposing intensity.

“Miss Hailey Salmon, I detest lazy people. Just watching them makes me feel like their laziness might rub off on me.”

“…”

Hailey slowly turned her head to look outside.

The garden, barely touched by the rising sun, was still enveloped in the dim light of dawn. The gas lamps were still illuminating the morning room.

She had plenty to say, but instead, she simply bowed her head politely.

“I will be more mindful in the future, Your Grace.”

Then, shifting her gaze, she looked at the newspaper resting on the table.

“Shall I read the articles for you?”

At her suggestion, Tayton’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He already found it annoying that she had voluntarily approached him, but her quick-wittedness was even more irksome.

He had intended to tell her not to waste food and just read the newspaper, but instead, he begrudgingly nodded.

Hailey took a seat on the sofa and placed the newspaper on her lap.

“The Engler Murder Case: The Suspect Remains Unknown.”

She began reading the front-page article, her green eyes widening slightly at the sensational headline.

“A month ago, the brutalized body of Lady Tara Donald, daughter of Baron Donald, was discovered on Engler Street. Despite the Metropolitan Police’s exhaustive efforts, the case remains unsolved.

The vagrant initially arrested as a suspect was proven innocent, and the police force, having detained the wrong person, is now facing severe public criticism.”

“Useless fools wasting the kingdom’s money without accomplishing anything. Leeching parasites exist everywhere.”

Hmm.

Hailey glanced at the Duke out of the corner of her eye.

His mastery of sharp-tongued insults in Santier was impressive—perhaps even better than the locals themselves.

At this point, it was clear he had no need for a conversational partner.

Would anyone in this world truly be to the Duke’s liking?

While silently grumbling about the Duke, she abruptly averted her gaze when her eyes met his razor-sharp silver ones, as piercing as a razor blade. Quickly, she dropped her gaze and began reading the next article.

“Earl Blair’s trading ship stranded? No word even after its scheduled arrival.”

Hailey’s voice softly echoed through the morning room. Although the Duke furrowed his brows in dissatisfaction, he refrained from adding more cutting remarks.

Golden sunlight began to peek through the window, casting a warm glow. Brutus, perched on the window frame, tilted his head, curiously peering into the morning room.

It was a quiet, peaceful morning.

At least until the Duke’s mischievous voice broke the tranquility:

“After breakfast, choose my attire for the day, Miss Hailey.”

It was shaping up to be yet another eventful day.

***

“Did you say Café Violet?”

Hailey glanced around as she walked slowly, taking in the unfamiliar scenery.

Gaining permission to go out from Madam Mastis had not been an easy feat. With a displeased expression, the woman had thoroughly questioned Hailey about her business and exact return time, clearly suspecting she might be planning to run away instead.

“It’d be absurd to disappear without getting paid for all my work. Still, at this rate, they should compensate me for cleaning the streets!”

She grumbled as she lightly lifted the hem of her beige dress, which trailed heavily behind her. The sweeping hem was irritating her to no end.

Her parasol dangled loosely from her wrist, shading her not from the sun but from her frustrations. Pausing briefly, she looked up at the clock tower in the center of the square.

It was ten minutes to three.

The afternoon square was bustling with people, a stark contrast to the serene Westhill area where Baron Salmon’s estate was located. The attire of passersby was uniformly sophisticated and elegant.

Gentlemen in business suits and silk hats carried canes, while ladies wearing anemone-adorned hats held parasols as they strolled with their maids.

Men with mustaches stole glances at women passing by the temple, and the highborn ladies, aware of the attention, maintained an air of poise as if oblivious to it.

“Wow, what is that?”

One lady had her hair piled up to a height that exceeded a hand’s breadth. No, more than that—it looked as though she had an entire additional head atop her shoulders. The towering hairstyles seemed to embody the lofty pride of the noblewomen.

Hailey couldn’t help but stare with concern, wondering if the woman’s neck might give out. Finally, she sighed deeply. This was no time to worry about others; she had her own problems to deal with.

“Where on earth is Café Violet?”

The grandest building in the vicinity was undoubtedly the temple. At its entrance stood intricately carved statues, like sentinels guarding the door, and flower vendors lined up in front of them.

Ladies who hadn’t prepared flowers in advance purchased bouquets from the vendors before heading into the temple.

Around the temple, shops were arranged in a large circle: clothing stores, restaurants, hat shops, perfumeries, and even social clubs. Yet, no matter how much she looked, Hailey couldn’t find Café Violet.

As she debated asking someone for directions, she scanned the crowd for a suitable person. Just then, a boy who appeared to be about ten years old came running past with a bundle of papers under his arm.

The boy pulled out a single newspaper and shouted energetically:

“Extra! Extra!”

His voice caught the attention of a few curious onlookers.

The freckled boy shot a sly grin at the indifferent crowd, as if daring them to resist buying what he was selling.

“The cursed Duke drinks the blood of young women!”

His gamble paid off. In an instant, the square buzzed with commotion. The ripple of murmurs shoved past Hailey’s shoulder, carried by the chaotic energy of the crowd.

She, too, halted in her tracks, turning her attention to the boy. A mustachioed gentleman approached the scruffy boy.

“Is that true? You’d better not be lying.”

“It’s true! The culprit behind the murder on Engler Street is none other than the cursed Duke, His Grace Tayton Gunner! Hot off the press!”

The crowd quickly surrounded the boy, both men and women alike. The boy, his small eyes wide with feigned innocence, grinned triumphantly, his freckled cheeks twisting with the effort.

“The cursed Duke is a murderer?”

“Let me see a paper!”

“Give me one too!”

“Over here!”

“Yes, yes! One copper each. Just a moment, please.”

The newspapers sold like hotcakes. Hailey, too, pushed her way through the throng. A noblewoman, annoyed by Hailey’s unrefined manners, pursed her lips in disapproval.

But Hailey was too preoccupied to care. She snatched a paper from the boy’s hand.

“Hey! You have to pay first!” the boy shouted.

Ignoring him, Hailey frantically unfolded the newspaper, her eyes scanning the article with urgency.

The Duke, a murderer? Sure, his personality was infamously vile, but a murderer?

She couldn’t believe it. She had to see it for herself.

[The culprit behind the Engler murder case: the cursed Duke? The son of a witch drinks the blood of young women to break his curse!]