The rain-swollen, muddy river battered the boat mercilessly.

With each violent jolt, Sveta’s body seemed to drift weightlessly. She wrapped her arms around her knees, lowered her head, and forced herself to endure it.

When she finally looked up again, a crimson sunset was bleeding through the dark, heavy clouds.

“Why are we stopping here?”

The boatman, who had guided them to a deserted stretch of riverbank, slowly raised a branch-like finger and pointed towards the sky.

“It’ll rain soon. You may not care, but I’ve only one life.”

“But…”

“The rainy season’s near its end. It’ll probably stop by dawn. It’ll be dark soon anyway, so we might as well rest first.”

The boatman wiped his face with the grimy towel around his neck, then started walking ahead.

Sveta instinctively touched the back of her neck. She had been so tense that she was sweating too. The white collar of her maid’s uniform was damp all the way through.

The moment she spotted a small hut not far away, it began to rain heavily.

“Will you hurry up!”

The boatman, who was already holding the door to the hut open, barked at her impatiently.

Sveta hurried towards the shelter, breathing in the heavy scent of wet earth.

Inside, it was pitch black. The boatman did not bother to light a candle.

Strangely, she felt relieved.

She knew it was unkind, but whenever she looked at the man’s unpleasant, harsh face, her mind drifted towards darker possibilities.

Without a word, he tossed her a worn, sour-smelling blanket.

“Use it cleanly.”

“…Yes. Thank you.”

“I’ll go check the boat for a moment, so get some sleep.”

“All right.”

The boatman could barely hear her reply before he slammed the door shut behind him.

Wind seeped in through the narrow gaps between the wooden planks, bringing with it the salty scent of the river.

Left alone in the darkness, Sveta instinctively placed a hand over her stomach.

The baby could not have grown in a single day. Her abdomen was as flat as ever.

And yet… why did she not feel alone?

Overcome by this small yet overwhelming thought, she lifted her head and whispered, her voice brighter than expected.

“There were a few problems along the way, but we got out safely in the end. It’s OK if no one protects us. I’ll protect us. It’s all right.”

Of course, there was no answer. But Sveta truly felt all right.

“You need a name. But what should I choose? I’m terrible at naming things. When I named Dongle, even the stable hand looked like he was trying not to laugh.”

Holding her stomach gently, she wondered what name would suit the baby.

None came to mind, but that was fine. There was still plenty of time.

As she sat there, her fear slowly faded and the night grew deeper. The steady sound of rain filled the heavy darkness without pause.

***

On a rain-soaked evening, the duke returned.

He stepped into the entrance of the main building, drenched, his expression as unreadable as ever.

‘Even so… isn’t this the day he finally captured the enemy he’s pursued his entire life?’

Dennis shuddered inwardly at his master’s demeanor—calm to the point of severity, rigid beyond reason.

Still, it was fortunate.

The terrible news he was about to deliver would not shake his master much.

“A towel.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Dennis hurried to hand it over, carefully watching the Duke’s reaction.

With slow, unhurried movements, the duke brushed the rainwater from his golden hair, which was still dripping. Even though he was drenched, he looked as though he had just stepped out of a bath: clean and perfectly composed.

He was meticulous to an extreme.

He could not bear the thought of walking to his bedchamber while wet. Whenever he returned to the estate after being caught in the rain, he always dried himself immediately.

And that was not all.

The duke also had a habit of discarding his gloves and vest wherever he pleased. As a result, the maids trailing behind him would—

“Move him to the underground prison.”

The low voice cut through Dennis’s thoughts cleanly. He snapped back to his senses and looked up at Aiden.

The duke, rubbing the thick line of his neck with the towel, turned to the knights.

“Yes, my lord.”

The knights waiting behind him responded with restrained excitement.

It was only then that Dennis noticed the man who was partially hidden behind his master’s broad shoulders.

The bound prisoner was being carried away, unconscious.

At first glance, Jace Gould’s face, which had been so brutally crushed that it was a bloody mess, appeared almost monstrous.

Dennis stiffened, his eyes darting around.

“Dennis.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The duke slowly clenched and unclenched his fist.

The black leather glove covering his large hand was torn. There must have been a fight.

From the looks of it, however, it had been entirely one-sided.

For a man who abhorred physical contact to such a degree to have used his own hands was no small matter.

‘And yet… how can he remain so calm?’

Dennis found himself once more awed by his master’s terrifying composure.

“Was there anything unusual while I was away?”

“That is…”

The duke met his aide’s eyes and let the towel and ruined gloves fall to the floor. A maid standing nearby quickly collected them.

“Speak.”

The duke was not one for idle chatter.

Without waiting for a reply, he strode forward, his long legs carrying him swiftly ahead. Dennis hurried after his master, clearing his throat softly.

“Madam Noma is hovering between life and death.”

Aiden, who had been walking towards his own bedchamber, naturally pivoted on his left foot and turned towards the west wing, where Madame Noma was staying. His pace was neither fast nor slow.

His voice remained flat and even.

“…For what reason.”

“She jumped from her fourth-floor bedroom.”

“…Madam Noma—Elise Strilland—attempted s*icide.”

“Yes. There is no mistake.”

The aide answered in a trembling voice.

“Was there anyone who saw her fall?”

“No. A gardener discovered her collapsed atop the shrubs.”

“…A note.”

“None has been found.”

The Lady Noma that Aiden knew would never have taken her own life.

She was not the kind of woman to keep quiet, even about the temperature of the water used to wash her feet. Had she truly decided to end her life, she would have left behind dozens of pages expressing her resentment towards Aiden.

It must have been an accident.

Having easily reached this conclusion, he arrived at his mother’s chamber.

From within, a mournful sob echoed through the room.

“Sniff… Madam Noma… How—how could this happen? How am I supposed to live now?”

Sveta’s adoptive mother, Dalia, clutched Madam Noma’s lifeless hand and bemoaned her own fate.

The head maid, who had been trying to calm her down, noticed Aiden and folded her hands respectfully.

Overwhelmed by Aiden’s imposing presence, Dalia suddenly stopped crying.

“Your Grace…”

Speaking in a pitiful tone, Dalia pressed a hand to her forehead as if she might faint from dizziness. An oversized diamond ring sparkled on her otherwise slender hand, but Aiden showed no reaction.

At the slightest gesture from him, the head maid stepped forward and escorted Dalia out of the room.

Ivan, who had been wiping the sweat from his flushed face, finally sighed with relief.

“She struck her head badly. Still, it’s fortunate she’s alive.”

“……”

Madam Noma’s pale body rose and fell slowly with each fragile breath.

“There are no visible major injuries besides the back of her head.”

“I’d like you to remain in the west wing for the time being and watch over her.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Aiden glanced at his mother before turning away.

Ivan would oversee her treatment. His responsibility was to establish the circumstances of the accident.

His thoughts were as simple as that.

Now that he had resolved the complicated issues preoccupying him, only one desire remained — he wanted to rest.

He wanted to hold his mistress in his arms, warm and sweetly scented.

It was this longing alone that had made him force his schedule forward and hurry back.

He could clearly remember the way she had fit perfectly within his embrace. The slender curve of her neck flowing down into the straight line of her back. The small, delicate shoulder blades. He could recall the soft warmth of her body pressing against his when he pulled her close. He could even recall the steady beat of her heart between them, and the faint, lingering scent that teased his senses.

At the thought of the lovely woman waiting quietly for him, he felt a warmth gather beneath his tongue.

He swallowed and quickened his pace.

The aide, who had been lingering uncertainly outside the chamber, followed behind him.

“Your Grace, would you like to have dinner now?”

“Not tonight.”

He walked faster than usual. Tonight, the distance to his bedchamber felt strangely long.

“My lord. Welcome back.”

As soon as he stepped into the familiar corridor, Pailin greeted him. As always, Aiden acknowledged him with a slight nod.

Everything appeared unchanged aside from his mother’s accident.

His aide opened the massive oak door as usual, his expression pale and composed.

Aiden immediately shrugged off his rain-soaked cloak. As he walked towards the small door leading to his mistress’s bedchamber, he removed each heavy outer garment one by one. He loosened the neatly tied cravat around his neck and tossed it aside.

With a hint of impatience in his heart, Aiden stepped into her room.

“Sveta.”

As always, his mistress’s chamber was dark.

Moonlight, reflecting the steady rain, fell across the long, flowing curtains and shimmered softly. The gentle glow was soft, like her.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Are you asleep?”

No answer came.

Gripping the front of his shirt, he walked toward the bed. Slowly drawing back the sheer canopy, Aiden sank down onto the plush mattress.

“Are you still unwell? If you wish, I’ll summon Ivan at once—”

He pulled back the covers and froze.

Why?

Where she should have been lying, there were only pillows and cushions arranged in her place.

A sharp unease pierced through him.

Aiden hurried to the bathroom and flung open the door. She was not there.

Wind swept in through the half-open window, stirring the curtains as though in silent mockery.

The dread that had quietly crept into his chest now clamped down on his heart ruthlessly.

Thud. Thud.

His pulse pounded violently.

“Sveta.”

His voice trembled as he said her name.

His instincts told him that she was not there.

His mistress was not there.