Count Meriner’s way of speaking—always hovering between clarity and ambiguity—suddenly made sense.

‘He was trying to see whether I knew about the secret study.’

Realizing his intention, the corners of Sveta’s lips curved upward in a faint, knowing smile.

The moment the secret study came to mind, a sound she had long forgotten seemed to scrape against her ears.

Rrrk—thud.

The sound, like something scraping along the wall, often came from beneath the bed on which she was lying. Without fail, every night at the precise moment that Baron Luce had finished working, the noise would start up again.

She had always wondered what it was.

One night, she quietly crept downstairs to peer into the office and find out.

The Baron took a thick book off the bottom shelf of the bookcase and slipped his hand into the hollow space behind it. For a moment, it looked as though he were pulling a hidden mechanism.

Then, without warning, the entire bookcase slid aside.

Rrrk. Thud.

The instant the baron stepped inside, the door closed behind him.

What he had hidden there was obvious enough.

‘Then…’

Sveta was weighing the possibilities of what might follow and had just reached her own conclusion when Mrs. Nora gently turned her around.

“It’s done, my lady. The navy suits you very well.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nora.”

“But… you haven’t even eaten. Where are you going?”

Mrs. Nora asked as Sveta moved to leave the bedchamber at once.

“I have something to request of the Duke.”

Following yesterday’s events, Sveta had come to a realization.

Fleeing through Czernok was not an option. Not only could she easily be caught by the patrolling knights, but the sea itself was also dangerous. The moment she looked at it, her body refused to obey her.

For now, it seemed far wiser to cross the border from Levizan to Baiton.

She intended to seek the help of Count Meriner in the process. After all, he served the Duke of Baiton. This was why she had to go to the coffee house where Henrik was waiting.

“Let me fix your hair before you go to His Grace.”

“Thank you.”

Had her mind got ahead of her? It was only then that she realized that she hadn’t brushed her hair. She obediently sat down.

Mrs Nora quickly braided the hair beneath her ears, twisted the rest and secured it neatly with a ribbon. Her movements were swift and deft.

When she finally draped the braid over Sveta’s shoulder, the back of her neck felt cool and light.

“There, all done. My, it suits you so well. Whatever you ask, His Grace won’t be able to refuse.”

“Do you think so?”

Rubbing the bare curve of her neck, Sveta gave an awkward smile.

***

Six nobles had gathered in the Duke’s office.

They had all been waiting secretly for the duke’s summons and had hurried over as soon as they were called.

Count Grayton, the de facto leader, lifted his head after bowing politely; his neatly groomed moustache twitched.

“It is an honor to be summoned, Your Grace.”

No sooner had Count Grayton begun than the other nobles seated beside him chimed in, almost as if competing.

“I have been waiting for Your Grace’s call.”

“As have I.”

The Duke didn’t even offer the customary greeting. Seemingly irritated by their presence, he crossed one leg over the other and began pouring wine into his glass.

The pale golden liquid flowed out with a soft, hollow glug.

The nobles’ eyes widened in shock at the sight.

It was the ‘King’s Wine’, renowned for its delicate peach fragrance, which was now impossible to obtain. It was so rare that it could not be priced.

Yet the duke poured it as though it were nothing more than water.

The wine overflowed and spilled down the sides of the glass, but he made no move to steady the bottle.

Watching such reckless waste was agonizing, yet not one of them dared to intervene. The duke’s cold gaze alone was enough to silence them.

“Yesterday, while inspecting the harbor, I encountered your daughters.”

Unlike his sharp eyes, the Duke’s voice was flat.

Taking courage from that calm tone, Count Grayton hurried to respond.

“Oh? Is that so?”

“It was unpleasant.”

“…Pardon? Did something untoward occur?”

Flustered, the Count glanced around. Four of them looked bewildered, and one had turned noticeably pale.

Realizing that something must have happened, the Count swallowed dryly.

Aiden glanced at him briefly, then pushed his wine glass off the table.

It fell to the floor with a dull clatter.

The pale golden wine spread across the light grey carpet, quickly seeping towards the Count’s shoes.

Startled, the count jerked his legs up. Aiden spoke.

“As you all know, beginning in the latter half of this year, we will expand trade to Sweenia in the southwest.”

It was welcome news: the alliance with the Matwood family had enabled them to expand their trading ventures even further.

The anxiety that had clouded the faces of the nobles was replaced by renewed hope.

“However, your merchant guilds are excluded.”

“…What? How could—”

“I summoned you to inform you of that.”

The faint glimmer of hope that had appeared on their faces was instantly replaced by utter despair.

Aiden looked at each of the men who had tormented Sveta yesterday, one by one.

His gaze lingered longest — and most fiercely — on Count Grayton.

He remembered Bella Grayton’s malicious smile and how she had shoved Sveta from behind.

“Your Grace,” Count Grayton ventured carefully, “have we committed some offense?”

“Do you truly not know?”

“Th-that is…”

From the far end, Viscount Mitten—who had been staring at the floor—carefully opened his mouth.

“I—I offer my apologies. I will bring my daughter at once and have her apologize to Lady Luce.”

As the other nobles looked at Viscount Mitten’s ashen face, the color gradually drained from theirs, too.

It seemed they had sensed it, too.

Some of them had undoubtedly advised their daughters to ingratiate themselves with Alyona Matwood — the woman who would soon become the new duchess.

Even without seeing it, the scene was easy enough to imagine.

Aiden rose with a cold smile.

“Who said she would agree to meet them?”

“…Pardon?”

“Do you think I would allow the perpetrator to stand before my woman?”

Silence fell.

Shoving his gloved hands into his pockets, he continued.

“What I want is for your daughters never to appear before my lady again.”

No one dared to speak.

“Do you understand, Count Grayton?”

At the deliberate emphasis placed on his name, Count Grayton hurriedly lowered himself even further.

“Yes, of course. It shall be as you say.”

At the slightest tilt of the Duke’s chin, his aide opened the office door. There wasn’t even a perfunctory farewell.

Count Grayton forced his trembling legs to move and lifted a desperate gaze towards the Duke.

But the man stood there, seemingly impervious to any words, enveloped in an unyielding chill. The frost in his eyes sent a shiver through the Count’s entire body.

With his head bowed, Count Grayton took only a few steps.

“One more thing.”

All of them froze and turned back.

In the brief silence that followed—so stretched it felt eternal—the Duke’s lips curved at an angle.

“It seems your daughters have ruined my lady’s garden.”

***

Aiden sank deep into the leather seat of his chair. He took off his gloves and ran his dry palm over his face.

That had been fitting retaliation.

In fact, it had gone too far.

What Sveta had endured at the harbor yesterday was, in truth, nothing more than petty hazing.

It was the kind of trivial harassment that a woman from the countryside or abroad might experience when entering Renan’s social circle.

“…Petty hazing.”

It was almost treated as a rite of passage for women. But why should any woman have to endure such a thing?

The more he thought about it, the more unsettled he became.

He remembered the worn sleeve he had once noticed. The faint twist in her slender ankle. The way she had brushed her flushed cheek, tears slipping down against her will.

These memories rose uninvited.

She was a woman whose skin reddened from the touch of a single tear, and yet those wretched creatures had dared to knock her to the ground.

A harsh breath escaped his crimson lips. He repeatedly ran a hand through his perfectly arranged hair as though trying to steady the storm raging inside him.

“This is absurd.”

Was he frustrated with himself for reacting so fiercely to something insignificant that everyone experiences?

Or was he disgusted by the cruelty of those who had tormented an innocent woman?

He could not tell which troubled him more.

Restless, Aiden’s gaze drifted towards the window.

The clear sky reminded him of Sveta’s tear-filled eyes.

Without warning, memories of the previous autumn surfaced: the endless nights she had cried, her eyes swollen and raw by morning, her lips bitten until they were bruised and swollen.

He knew those tears had nothing to do with what had happened yesterday. And yet, in his clouded state, his thoughts stubbornly led him back to the same conclusion.

Perhaps he had been too lenient.

“I should have made sure tears fell from their eyes as well.”

The violent surge of emotion rose again, churning in his throat.

“…You seem to make a fool of me.”

Though he mocked himself, he could not seem to tear his gaze away from the sky.

He remained like that for a long while.

Then a knock broke the silence, and his aide, Dennis, entered the office.

“Your Grace.”

“…What is it?”

“We received a report that a maid of the Marchioness Matwood’s daughter has been loitering near the young lady’s bedchamber. She has been brought in.”

Aiden straightened and pulled on his leather gloves.

“Send her in.”

As soon as he returned to the estate yesterday, he posted a knight near Sveta.

This had, of course, been done in secret.

He had been unable to persuade her otherwise; she had insisted that she felt uncomfortable being guarded by anyone but Pailin.

‘It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since they tormented her, and now they’re circling her again…’

A faint irritation settled over Aiden’s face.

A moment later, a terrified maid entered, her head bowed low.

“For what reason were you seeking her?”

“Lady Alyona has extended an invitation for a boating excursion.”

Aiden stood up and walked over to the window. From there, he could see the vast artificial lake, built in the same style as the one at the ducal estate.

Servants moved briskly along the shore, loading a boat moored at the water’s edge with supplies.

Alyona stood calmly beneath a large parasol, overseeing the preparations. After a moment, she lifted her head and glanced towards the office window.

Since the office was on the second floor, the distance between them did not seem great.

She smiled brightly and gave him a small wave.

Her smile was dazzling, almost childlike in its innocence.

Aiden’s expression turned cold.

“I told her not to cross the line, yet she behaves as though this were her own home.”