“Your Grace, do you remember?”

Roan shot him a look that clearly meant, ‘How could I know what you remember when you haven’t even spoken?’

“It was when I accidentally broke Your Grace’s flower vase. If I recall correctly, it held the freesias that the Duchess gave you as a gift.”

It had been a terrifying moment, thinking he might actually get struck by his lord who, up until that point, had only ever lashed out with words, not violence. How many days had he endured his lord’s cold, indifferent gaze? It had been enough to bring tears to his eyes.

“Ah.”

Roan let out a short sound, somewhere between a sigh and a hum. He seemed to remember.

“When you returned and asked me if I had broken it, and I hesitated to admit it, Your Grace said this.”

David spoke with a serious tone.

“The weak cannot afford to be honest.”

“You said that the weak cannot afford to be honest.”

Of course, David’s lord was someone who considered his own contradictions to be as natural and insignificant as breathing.

“Granted, Your Grace is, as you, I, the heavens, and the earth all know, so strong that even if you aren’t always honest, there’s no risk of becoming weak. But when it comes to those closest to you, and especially those you wish to be close to, it’s important to be open and honest, to show your heart without reservation.”

Roan fell into a long silence. For a moment, David wondered if he had overstepped his bounds, thinking perhaps he had been too bold. Given that his lord had been in a foul mood recently, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t use the sword at his side to strike him down. Just because he hadn’t done so before didn’t mean he wouldn’t now.

Amidst these conflicting thoughts, David stole a glance at the duke’s face, only to be startled by what he saw.

*…!*

The duke, whom David had only ever seen smirk or scowl, was smiling. It was a bitter smile, one David had never seen before, not even in the entire time he had served him. It was also the first time Roan had smiled at all since the duchess had been captured.

Without a word, the duke quietly passed by David.

It almost seemed as if the words, ‘Perhaps I am not as strong as I thought,’ were whispered in his ear.

***

Thankfully, the guards came in regularly to bring food, so starvation was not an issue. Of course, it was hard to tell whether the food was going down through her nose or mouth, and the quality of ingredients was clearly inferior to those at the Bannister Duchy… but at this point, that was the least of her worries.

Being stuck in a prison where the window was far above her head, out of sight, was starting to mess with her sense of time. The only things that allowed her to gauge the passage of time were the meals the guard brought and whether there was sunlight or not.

With nothing to do, her mind was flooded with thoughts, leaving her head in a jumble. Especially the last time she had seen Roan—she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Would the plan to eliminate the noble faction succeed? What was the meaning behind his statement? Did Roan really want to abandon everything and leave with her?

Maybe in the past, but now he must have things he treasures. It was like a tangled ball of thread. Without being able to get inside Roan’s head, there seemed to be no way to resolve these questions.

*Clang.*

Just then, the sound of the outermost door leading to her cell being opened reached her ears.

Since the guard had brought her food not too long ago, it couldn’t be him. And by now, she had grown familiar enough with the guard’s footsteps to recognize they weren’t his.

The next *clang* signaled the arrival of the visitor, and she saw who it was.

“Grace?”

How is it that she seems to have a free pass to the dungeon? She’s coming here so often that, honestly, it’s not just unwelcome—it’s something I wish I could avoid for the sake of my mental well-being.

“You don’t even call me ‘princess’ anymore.”

Though the name had slipped out accidentally, she realized there was no need to address her as ‘princess’ anymore. Why should I call someone who’s determined to kill me ‘princess’? Why bother?

“There’s no need to call you that.”

“Suit yourself.”

So, in the end, you’re the one outside the cell, huh? The smile Grace wore, which might once have been gentle, now seemed like the sneer of a villain basking in her victory.

“How did it come to this?”

The question slipped out, revealing her true feelings. Weren’t you supposed to be the angelic heroine, outshining even Gabriel? Was this your true nature, always waiting to emerge, or did something I did change you, like some kind of butterfly effect?

“…….”

Grace looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. But there were more questions she needed to ask, so she pressed on.

“Why are you here?”

“Duchess, you don’t seem to understand the situation you’re in.”

Grace continued with a calm smile, deigning to explain.

“In about a week, you will surely be executed. Whether it’s because you married well, or poorly, I suppose it’s a small mercy that Duke Bannister’s influence has spared you from being tortured before then. But even if you refuse to confess your crimes, you cannot escape your fate. The crown prince will die within a week.”

“What?”

“In other words, you will die too. However—”

Grace then spoke with an expression that reminded her of the mustached duke from before.

“There is a way to save the life of the duke, the one you tried so hard to protect last time, even at the cost of your own life.”

“What is it?”

“This time, it’s the exact opposite of my previous offer. You must commit suicide.”

You must commit suicide.

Commit suicide…?

“What did you say?!”

It was so absurd and ridiculous that she couldn’t even find the words to respond. Grace chuckled softly, her expression completely unwavering.

“You’re going to die anyway. You and the duke can no longer exist in the same era.”

As she spoke, Grace reached into her pocket and pulled out a small jade bottle and a piece of paper.

“It’s a written confession. More precisely, a statement of guilt. Sign it. It states that you acted alone and includes a clause allowing the state to confiscate all your family’s property, including your private soldiers. In return, they will spare all the members of your family without laying a hand on them.”

She couldn’t understand why Grace was making this offer. According to her, she would soon be beheaded—so why offer a deal that seemed disadvantageous to her?

“…What difference would it make to you if I died? If I’m going to die anyway, why are you offering this? And how can I believe anything you say?”

“It’s not a lie. The noble faction’s fear has always been directed at the Bannister family. If that family is completely broken up and scattered, they won’t care. Besides, I’m the one who turned a hopeless situation into a victory for them.”

It seemed Grace was far more deeply involved in this plot than she had expected. What could have driven her to such hatred—enough to kill the crown prince, kill her, and destroy the Bannister family? What could have caused such deep-seated animosity?

“The reason doesn’t matter anymore, but I’m curious. What did I do to make you want to kill me?”

I demanded, my tone accusatory. While it was true that some people harbor hatred without reason, this seemed far beyond that.

“…I simply hate you. In fact, I want to see you fall into ruin even more than the duke. It seems unlikely, but there’s a chance the duke might find a way to save you and die in your place. What are you, Delis, that you should be worth such trouble?”

As Grace spat out her last words, her face twisted in an expression that seemed so uncharacteristic, it felt like the first time she was seeing the real Grace.

So this is her true face. Grace hadn’t changed after all. She had always been like this, from the very moment they had first met.

“Are you seriously going to destroy someone just because you dislike them for no reason? Are you insane?”

Grace stared at her blankly for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“It’s not that I dislike you for no reason. I obviously have a reason.”

She was so brazenly confident, as if her reason were entirely justified. Her shamelessness was almost admirable. How had she restrained herself for so long? It made her want to stand up and give her a round of applause, though preferably with a slap to her proud face.

“In any case, since you’re on your way to the afterlife, I might as well tell you why you’re going to die.”

Grace smiled gracefully, just like in the old days when they first met. But now, that smile sent chills down her spine for a different reason. To think there was a psychopath this close to her. If they were on Earth in the 21st century, she’d be more than willing to give her the phone number and address of a nice, white house on a hill.

Grace’s smile suddenly vanished at that very moment.

***

Grace de Jallier always smiled. Even when the father she trusted abandoned her, when she was sent to the empire as if being cast aside, when she realized her status had been reduced to nothing more than a hostage—at the height of her misery—she still smiled. There was only one reason. Smiling made her feel like she was proving her worth.

When she smiled, people naturally gathered around her, praised her, and even men who would elevate her status approached her. It was easy to be a dazzling yet pure flower.

But when did it begin?

Grace realized that beneath her bright and gentle exterior, her heart was blackening, turning into ash, filled with negative emotions that were growing, piling up, and spreading. But she had no way to express them. Even so, she was fine with it.

Even if a monstrous creature was lurking inside her, as long as she kept doing what she had always done, nothing would go wrong. She was confident she could live like that for the rest of her life.

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