Meanwhile, it was deep into the night by the time Karsten finally returned to the manor after several days away. Unlike Benon, who walked without a hint of trouble, Karsten’s steps were noticeably heavy.

“Your Grace, your wound is serious.”

Benon said, his voice filled with concern. His gaze was fixed on Karsten’s hand, which was pressed tightly to his abdomen. Blood was slowly seeping from the wound.

“…I’m fine.”

Contrary to his claim of being fine, Karsten’s steps grew heavier and heavier.

“There’s no need to make a fuss. Just summon a physician at dawn and it’ll be handled.”

Over the past few days, Karsten, Benon and the Knights of the House of White had been busy clearing the southern border of the Duchy of Haeriji of Haeriji soldiers who had set up camp there.

The number of Haeriji causing trouble for the locals was far greater than they’d expected, and bringing them down was no easy feat.

Karsten, who’d practically grown up with a sword in his hand, had still ended up injured in the process.

As he made his way forward, Karsten paused and glanced back.

“Well done. You can all return to your quarters now.”

At his command, the knights dispersed, heading to their respective lodgings. After the dozens of knights had vanished, Karsten gave Benon’s shoulder a firm pat.

“You should get some rest, too.”

“But, sir—”

“No more objections.”

At Karsten’s firm command, Benon bowed deeply and withdrew.

As soon as Karsten stepped inside the manor, the head steward, Thompson, came over to greet him.

“You’re back—oh my, you’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

Karsten replied, quickly shifting the subject as he began up the stairs.

“Has everything been quiet here?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And Laterna?”

“The young lady has been well, too.”

Thompson’s answer surprised Karsten a little. He’d half-expected Breti to disappear during his absence, especially since even Benon—whom he’d ordered to keep watch—had been pulled away to fight the Haeriji.

He’d left Countess Abbott to keep an eye on things during the day, but if Breti had slipped away at night, it would have been a real headache. Yet, contrary to his fears, she seemed to have caused no trouble at all.

‘She had her chance…’

Karsten thought that by now, Breti—who wasn’t blind or deaf—must have realized the truth: he wasn’t the one who had actually purchased her.

The rumour that a stranger had reported the Aurora innkeeper for illegal usury and handed her over to the guards had already spread throughout the southern White Duchy. If Breti had heard about this, he was sure she would have run away without hesitation.

‘But she didn’t leave.’

Maybe Countess Abbott had kept her busy, leaving no time to escape. Or maybe…

‘Maybe she’s just a fool.’

If that was the case, then she would be easy to manipulate. That was the conclusion Karsten arrived at, brushing off his thoughts as he made his way up the stairs, step by step.

Whatever the reason, he decided to see it as one less headache to deal with.

“Ah, Your Grace. The young lady has been asking for you.”

Thompson said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Laterna has?”

“Yes, she’s been asking for you ever since you left, for the past several days.”

“She kept asking…?”

Perhaps she’d felt obligated to thank him for his help, unable to leave out of simple decency.

Karsten smirked to himself at the thought.

Then, as if remembering something, Thompson added,

“And a letter arrived today.”

“A letter?”

“Yes, it came from the capital. It appears the madam sent it to the young lady.”

Karsten recalled the letter he’d sent to the duchess just before departing for the operation against the Haeriji.
It would have reached his mother in the capital within two days, and if she replied promptly, her letter would indeed arrive by now.

‘So Mother wrote a letter herself…’

Karsten’s brow furrowed as he remembered Meliover’s condition before he left.

Karsten’s heart grew heavy as he pictured his ailing mother, struggling through her illness to write each letter by hand, believing her daughter had finally been found.

‘If she ever learned that her daughter isn’t real…’

He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. But at that moment, Breti’s voice echoed through his mind.

“Do you really believe it’s right to deceive your ailing mother into thinking her daughter is alive?”

The way she’d dared to call it a deception—it was insolent.

Karsten clenched his jaw in frustration.

Watching him, Thompson spoke up cautiously.

“Ever since the young lady received the letter this morning, she hasn’t come out of her room.”

At that, Karsten’s eyes turned sharp.

“She hasn’t come out?”

“No, sir.”

The moment he heard Thompson’s answer, Karsten immediately changed course—not toward his office, but straight down the corridor to Breti’s room.

“Your Grace, is something wrong…?”

Thompson hurried after him, but Karsten didn’t answer. Not knowing what was going on, Thompson could only keep pace with his master.

When Karsten reached the door, he didn’t bother knocking—he threw it open without warning.

“Goodness, sir, you mustn’t—!”

Thompson started, anxious, but Karsten pushed his way into the room regardless.

His eyes swept the room in an instant—bed, desk, sofa—but Breti was nowhere to be seen.

‘So in the end…’

Just one more headache.

“Damn it.”

Karsten let out a low curse under his breath. Thompson, who had been keeping watch at the door and observing his every move, hurried into the room. Like Karsten, he quickly scanned the room, then his eyes widened in shock.

“M-miss… she’s…”

Only then did Thompson grasp the seriousness of the situation, his face turning ashen as he nervously looked to Karsten for direction.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Your Grace. I assumed she would be in her room…”

“Is that what you call an excuse, right now?”

Karsten’s voice was icy, making Thompson’s shoulders tremble as he bowed deeply, nearly to a right angle.

Rubbing his forehead, Karsten squeezed his eyes shut, then quickly gave orders.

“Start with a thorough search of the entire manor.”

Thompson bowed his head once more and hurried out of the room.

Once Thompson had left, Karsten swept his gaze around the room one last time before cursing quietly and leaving himself.

Stepping out of Breti’s room, he turned toward his own office—to check the report he’d received about Breti, hoping for a clue.

He wondered who she had been close to while working as a maid at Aurora, and whether she had approached anyone for help.

But his body refused to cooperate. With every step, he left a trail of blood on the floor.

The true cause of his severe injury was the Haeriji’s weapon. He hadn’t managed to dodge the spear they’d thrown, and the resulting wound was deep. Even worse, the weapon had been coated in poison.

The toxin was spreading steadily through his body and, with every passing moment, he felt himself slipping further under its influence.

His steps became heavier and heavier. He could barely pull himself up the stairs, clinging to the railing for support. By the time he staggered down the corridor, dizziness was almost blinding him.

He took only a few more steps before collapsing to the floor.

“…sir?”

At the edge of his fading consciousness, a familiar voice reached his ears.

That was the last thing Karsten remembered before everything went dark.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

Breti had been waiting outside the duke’s office for hours — the same place she had visited before. She held the letter from the duchess tightly in her hands. The wax seal, stamped with the crest of House White, was still intact.

She simply couldn’t bring herself to open it. She couldn’t bear to touch a letter that must have taken so much effort to write, with such care, for a daughter finally found. So she lingered, unable to do anything but pace restlessly near the office.

How long had she been wandering there when she sensed someone’s presence nearby? Thinking it might be Karsten, Breti moved towards the sound.

Just as she had guessed, it was Karsten approaching. But—

“Your Grace!”

Breti gasped as Karsten collapsed right in front of her. Shocked, she rushed to his side and shook his shoulder.

“Please, wake up!”

But Karsten showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Cold sweat beaded on his skin, and as she watched him, Breti’s heart raced with fear.

She started to rise, intending to call out for help, but then stopped short when she noticed her own hand.

“This is…”

Not only was there dark red blood on her palm—there was also a strange blue liquid smeared across her skin.