As summer reached its height, the duke finally returned.

He had left the previous autumn, and almost a year had passed before he set foot on the ducal estate again.

Dennis watched his master, his eyes shining with emotion.

Not a single crease marred his shirt. His vest was tailored to fit his broad frame perfectly. Even the cravat fastened neatly around his thick neck sat with impeccable precision. His lord was flawless — as immaculate and commanding as ever.

Seated upright at his desk, Aiden kept his gaze fixed on the documents before him, carrying out his duties with steady composure and quiet authority.

“Do you have something to say?”

Apparently irritated by Dennis lingering nearby, the duke flipped a page and asked without looking up.

Dennis swallowed hard and spoke in a voice that seemed to shrink back on itself.

“We must send a reply to the royal court of Prisada.”

“A reply to what?”

“Regarding the matter of Jace Gould escaping Prisada’s custody…”

His words trailed off as he cautiously studied the duke’s face. He had expected anger—but there was not the slightest change in expression.

“They have sent a letter.”

“……”

Feeling reassured, Dennis carefully held out the letter. Their fingertips brushed as he handed it over.

Dennis flinched immediately.

Aiden glanced at him briefly, then turned his attention to the seal pressed into the wax — the unmistakable twin-headed eagle.

He had actually already been informed of Jace Gould’s escape while he was still in Shadow Gorge. At the time, however, the duke had not been in the right state of mind. Dennis had quietly wondered whether he had even understood the report.

Now, seeing that he clearly had, Dennis let out a silent breath of relief.

“I will write the reply now.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The letters flowing from the tip of the quill were straight and elegant, much like their creator. Dennis’s gaze slid down to the duke’s hand, which held the pen.

The backs of his hand and fingers were covered in large and small scars. Each mark — scratches, tears and gouges — sent a chill down Dennis’s spine.

‘There are so many more scars now.’

Aiden had always preferred long-range combat to close-quarters combat. He was more of an archer than a swordsman.

Except for the calluses he had acquired from drawing a bowstring, his hands were unusually smooth for a knight.

And yet, what Dennis had witnessed in Shadow Gorge—

—was that his lord wielded a sword with the same skill as a bow.

Aiden looked like a warrior pulled from a legend of battlefield glory: as calm as frozen water, as sharp as a spear’s tip, and utterly merciless.

Seeing the immaculate master standing drenched from head to toe in the entrails and torn flesh of beasts was horrifying.

‘Come to think of it, he’s not wearing gloves.’

That was strange. The absence of gloves was odd enough—but stranger still—

‘I’m certain our hands touched earlier.’

As Dennis tilted his head in confusion, Aiden extended the completed letter.

“Send it at once.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Sneaking occasional glances at him, Dennis sorted through the letters scheduled to be dispatched that day.

“Is there more to be done?”

The duke asked, slowly rolling a wine glass between his hands.

Dennis’s gaze shifted to one of the walls in the study. Though the curtains were tightly drawn, heavy sunlight was seeping through the gaps. It looked as though dusk would settle at any moment.

After checking the time, Dennis shook his head slightly.

“We have completed everything scheduled for today.”

“……”

“Your Grace, then I will see you tomorrow.”

“Very well.”

Aiden put down his wine glass, rose and left the study with graceful steps. He didn’t even glance towards the window.

Only after confirming that his master had disappeared down the corridor did Dennis pull the bell cord.

As if she had been waiting for him, the head maid, Meriette, entered the study.

“You’ve arrived, Head Maid.”

At his greeting, Meriette inclined her head slightly.

“As you requested, I have paid the dress shop today.”

At her gesture, two maids carried in a large chest.

“The dress is inside that chest, Assistant.”

“…What are we going to do with it?”

“If you ask me that, what am I to say?”

“……”

The color drained from Dennis’s face. Even Meriette’s stern expression softened slightly when she saw him.

The dress had been ordered the previous autumn by the Duke himself, after he decided to marry Baron Luce’s young daughter.

“How could you order a wedding dress without asking the bride for her opinion? In fact, you haven’t even proposed yet.”

At the time, he had clicked his tongue at his master’s arrogance.

Now that the young lady was dead, the marriage plans had naturally fallen apart.

The thought of her left a bitter taste in Dennis’s mouth. He lowered his head, unable to steady the weight in his chest.

‘If even I feel this wretched… is His Grace truly all right?’

Although he was relieved to see Aiden behaving normally, he also felt deeply uneasy. It felt as though Aiden might shatter again at the slightest provocation.

This was why he was secretly consulting the head maid about what to do with the dress.

“Shall we at least take a look?”

Dennis suggested.

“Since we have paid for it, we should confirm that it arrived properly.”

“Very well, Assistant.”

The head maid immediately opened the chest.

And at that very moment—

the duke’s cold voice was heard.

“What is that?”

Startled, Dennis and the head maid quickly shut the lid of the chest.

“That is, Your Grace…”

“Did I not ask what it is?”

Why had he come back? It made no sense. By this time of day, he should have been locked in his bedroom.

As though their stammered answers were unnecessary, the duke indicated the chest with a mere shift of his gaze.

Meriette let out a small breath and opened the lid with trembling hands.

“It is the dress you ordered last year, my lord.”

“……”

His green eyes were terrifyingly still.

“Throw it away.”

“…Yes. We will.”

Was he angry?

With a tightening chest, Dennis studied Aiden’s face—but there was no sign of fury. The duke gathered a stack of documents from one side of the desk and left the study in crisp, economical movements.

“Ha…”

Dennis released a long sigh.

“It seems His Grace has decided to put his feelings in order, Head Maid.”

“…Has he?”

Meriette watched the duke’s retreating figure with troubled eyes before closing the chest with quiet resignation.

“I hear he does not even glance toward the bedchamber the young lady of Baron Luce once used. Perhaps he is trying to forget.”

“I hope that is truly the case, Assistant…”

“He will recover soon.”

Surely he would. He was the Duke of Strilland, after all. Dennis nodded firmly.

***

“Lady Luce.”

Leaning on her cane as she walked slowly through the garden, Sveta flinched and turned.

A tall, slender man stood there, a gentle curve to his lips.

“Viscount Meriner!”

“You seem to be walking quite well now.”

“Do I?”

“Better than I expected.”

She smiled faintly and wiped the beads of sweat on her temple with the back of her hand.

Her calf muscles still ached. Every step was painful, but she was grateful that she could walk with only a cane.

“The physician says you are recovering. By winter, you should be able to walk without it.”

“I hope so.”

Henrik folded one arm and offered it to her. Sveta carefully placed her hand on it. They walked in silence.

As they strolled along the path lined with pale yellow wildflowers, Sveta was reminded of the daffodils she had once seen at the ducal estate.

She also remembered the man and woman she had seen walking there together:

Aiden and the young Marchioness of Matwood, walking side by side among the bright yellow blossom.

‘By now, they must have held their wedding…’

Was that not the reason Viscount Meriner now came and went from the villa so freely?

There was no one left to guard her.

The duke had already returned home.

‘Because he no longer searches for me.’

In any case, it was for the best.

They would never meet again. She would never hear any news about him.

Sveta no longer wanted to hate Aiden. She no longer wanted to torment herself with thoughts of him.

Wishing him happiness and moving on was the best she could do.

She forced herself to stop thinking about it.

‘I only hope he is living well.’

The ankle that had been tolerable for some time suddenly began to throb. Tightening her grip on the cane, she forced herself to take another step.

“We will move next week.”

“Already?”

“Of course. There’s a small town near the capital called Zvern. It’s convenient for me to visit from time to time, and since it’s so far from the border, the duke will find it difficult to locate you, even if he tries.”

“…Zvern.”

Sveta murmured the name under her breath. Her heart began to race uncontrollably.

Henrik glanced down at her faintly flushed cheeks and gave a small smile.

“Does it please you that much?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you plan to live there?”

“Like everyone else. I only wish to live an ordinary life.”

“You will live well, Lady Luce. Marry, have children, and live proudly—like other women.”

“…Marry, and have children.”

‘Is that truly possible for me?’

A sudden fear took hold of her. If that was what an ordinary life meant, then perhaps she was asking for too much.

***

As he always did, Aiden walked straight through the center of the bedchamber when he entered it.

He stopped in front of the small door that led to the adjoining room and gripped the golden handle with trembling hands.

‘If I open this door.’

Opening it would allow him to feel Sveta’s presence again.

The air would still carry the faintest hint of her soft perfume. The negligee would still be warm from her body. There might even be a few strands of hair caught in a comb.

“Sveta.”

He whispered her name as though it were a spell.

But the door did not open.

He could not open it.

Everything inside would remain as it was — except for her.

Unable to accept this truth, he could not cross the threshold.

“…Ha.”

With a long, weary sigh, he stepped to the bedside table and poured the prepared wine into a glass. He let the liquor linger in his mouth before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Casually loosening his cravat, he lit a stick of heavy sleeping incense.

As if that could ever bring him rest.

He needed Sveta.

Her soft, sweet scent.

Only by burying his face in her silky hair could he sleep.

The fading glow of the sunset filtered through the curtains, deepening the shadows in the room. Frowning, Aiden opened the drawer where he kept his emergency medicines and took out a small vial of sleeping powder.

Without hesitation, he carelessly tipped a generous amount of the white powder from the glass bottle into his wine.

It barely dissolved.

He lifted the glass and swallowed it all in one go.