Chapter 3

“Report in more detail.”

Eric Herrington, the Duke of Herrington and master of the household, habitually pressed his temples as he looked at his butler, Demian, who stood before him.  

Although he had spent a long time away from the duchy, roaming the battlefields, from the moment he returned, he had immersed himself in state affairs as if rest was a luxury he couldn’t afford.  

It was an effort to allow no room for idle thoughts.  

In the end, Eric had successfully, albeit forcefully, confined Euphrasia and Louis within the Herrington estate.  

Since then, he had consciously avoided thinking about the mother and son.  

He was a patient predator who knew how to wait.  

‘By now, her defiance should have waned.’  

Buried in the mountain of documents on his desk, Eric thought of Euphrasia for the first time in a long while, waiting for the butler to continue his report.  

“A delegation from the Kingdom of Kettlin is planning to visit, intending to celebrate our victory. Since you are undeniably the hero of this war, Your Grace, they will likely visit the duchy as well…”  

“Not that. The next part.”  

Although the delegation from the Kingdom of Kettlin was undoubtedly the most important matter at hand, Eric cut him off firmly.  

Demian, briefly puzzled by Eric’s abruptness, quickly grasped what the Duke wanted.  

“It has been reported that Lady Olden, who had refused all food and drink and dismissed her attendants, has finally collapsed. There are also reports that she appears noticeably emaciated.”  

At the butler’s response, Eric narrowed his eyes and twitched his cheek slightly.  

His appearance was as if a divine sculptor had poured their utmost effort into crafting him—a masterpiece.  

His jet-black hair seemed capable of absorbing all the colors of the world, and his mesmerizing blue eyes shone brighter than any jewel.  

No matter how often one saw him, his divine appearance was difficult to grow accustomed to.  

Demian, momentarily entranced without realizing it, was startled when he noticed that Eric had just smiled.  

Eric rarely revealed his emotions.  

It had been over forty years since Demian entered the Herrington household.  

The once youthful Demian had aged into a white-haired butler, yet even after serving Eric since infancy, he could count the times he had seen such candid expressions on the Duke’s face on one hand.  

And now… smiling at the news of Lady Olden collapsing after her hunger strike? It was an utterly unnatural reaction.  

As Demian mulled over the peculiar contrast, goosebumps prickled along his arms.  

‘Well, considering what he experienced immediately upon his return, it’s understandable. He didn’t show it outwardly, but he must have been deeply shocked.’  

However, being a competent butler, Demian rationalized Eric’s unusual reaction to himself.  

‘Perhaps he briefly lost control of his emotions. Poor man.’  

Demian’s gaze softened as he looked at Eric.  

Three days ago.  

The empire’s most eligible bachelor, Eric Herrington, Duke of Herrington, had discovered that he had a child he didn’t know about.  

That alone was an astonishing revelation.  

But even more shocking was that the child’s mother, a mere illegitimate daughter of an Count’s family, had brazenly demanded child support and declared her refusal to raise the child as the Duke’s heir.  

‘Unthinkable.’  

The Herrington family cherished their bloodline.  

Having witnessed the previous Duke and Duchess’s desperation to conceive before Eric’s birth, Demian understood the importance of the Herrington lineage more than anyone else.  

For years, he had quietly fretted over Eric’s apparent lack of interest in marriage, despite being well past the age for it.  

So when Euphrasia appeared at the estate with Louis in tow…  

‘I felt as if I had gained a grandchild of my own.’  

Without informing Eric, Demian had even enthusiastically prepared a systematic education plan for the future heir.  

However, Eric had denied the child’s existence.  

Perhaps it because of shock of Euphrasia’s boldness that prompted such a reaction.  

Louis, with his striking blue eyes, was undeniably Eric’s son. His noble lineage was evident to anyone who saw him.  

‘What could he be thinking?’  

Demian pondered briefly before shaking his head to dispel his thoughts.  

If Eric truly intended to deny his bloodline, he wouldn’t have confined the mother and child to the estate.  

There was clearly a deeper reason, one that Demian hadn’t yet discerned.  

Resolving not to question further, Demian reaffirmed his commitment to faithfully carry out Eric’s orders.  

“I should go.”  

“…Pardon?”  

But immediately after, the butler’s resolve was short-lived.  

Eric, who had risen from his seat, uttered a brief statement before striding out of the office.  

Demian, bewildered by the Duke’s sudden actions, stammered as he followed.  

“Where… where are you going, Your Grace?”  

Eric glanced back and shrugged lightly.  

“You just reported that Lady Olden collapsed, didn’t you?”  

“Yes, but…”  

After locking her in a room and ignoring her for days, what could he possibly intend to do now that she had fainted?  

‘Surely not…?’  

At that moment, a dreadful thought crossed Demian’s mind.  

“No, Your Grace! Even though she’s illegitimate, she is still a noble lady of the Count’s family! Without a proper wedding, and without her consent, to take advantage of her weakened state…”  

“Demian!”  

Eric’s face twisted in frustration as he stared at the panicked butler clinging to him.  

“What are you imagining? Just how much of a scoundrel do you think I am?”  

Despite Eric’s rebuke, Demian remained steadfast.  

He was convinced that his esteemed Duke had succumbed to youthful impulsiveness.  

It was the butler’s duty to courageously intervene at such moments.  

“Please, Your Grace! Calm yourself…”  

Blushing furiously from embarrassment, Eric peeled Demian off him with all his strength.  

As the butler collapsed to the floor, Eric glared at him and spoke deliberately, enunciating each word.  

“I’m going to fetch Louis Herrington, my son. His mother is indisposed, so naturally, his father should care for him.”  

“Louis… the young master…? Then, does that mean…”  

Forgetting the pain in his scraped elbow, Demian sprang to his feet.  

“Does this mean you acknowledge Louis as the heir to the Herrington Duchy?”  

The butler’s voice trembled with joy as he continued.  

“You’ve made the right decision! Of course! It’s only natural! So, shall we arrange the wedding with Lady Olden? Or perhaps we should first make an official announcement about the heir to the Herrington Duchy…”  

Overflowing with excitement, Demian spoke with an energy that belied his age.  

Understanding the butler’s genuine concern for the duchy’s future, Eric couldn’t help but smile, his earlier irritation forgotten.  

Unfortunately, for the overly enthusiastic Demian, there was a catch.  

“I won’t do anything yet. First, I’ll bring the child here and wait for Lady Olden to recover. As you said, we need her consent. But honestly, I didn’t expect her to faint after just three days without food. I didn’t think she was so fragile. It’s concerning.”  

Shaking his head slightly, Eric left the office without hesitation, leaving the puzzled butler behind.  

His expression was solemn, as if he were genuinely worried about Euphrasia’s health.  

But to Demian, who had served Eric for so long, there was something oddly light in his steps, and the faint twitch of his lips seemed almost…  

‘He seems… happy.’  

The thought sent an even stronger chill down Demian’s spine.  

***

The room was silent.  

The maids, who had been nervously standing by Euphrasia’s bedside as she lay motionless, fled the room the moment Eric entered, as if escaping from danger.  

Louis, lying peacefully in a luxurious cradle and gazing at the mobile above him, and Euphrasia, unconscious and utterly still—these were the only presences in the room.  

The stillness was broken by the sound of Eric’s deliberate footsteps.  

Though he could move without making even the faintest noise if he wished, he chose not to exercise such caution.  

As Eric approached the cradle, he cast a sidelong glance at the bed where Euphrasia lay.  

She remained with her eyes closed, breathing steadily, as though in a deep sleep.  

Instead of immediately picking up the child and leaving the room, Eric stood still for a moment, simply watching her.  

He was well aware that insisting on verifying the child’s paternity was merely his own stubbornness.  

In truth, he had known from the very first glance. The child bore his blood unmistakably.  

He had been so certain that he would naturally claim the heir to the duchy.  

“I don’t need a father for my child.”  

The words that had come from her lips had been shocking.  

Even as she trembled in fear, Euphrasia had met his gaze directly, defying him with her resolve.  

At that moment, he had felt not only anger but also a strange curiosity.  

His interest, which had been solely focused on the child, began to shift toward the illegitimate daughter of an Count’s family—a woman who had been nothing more than a fleeting encounter.