Chapter 123

Marlena changed the destination to the townhouse of the Marquis of Rowissum.

Roche’s heart pounded.

It was hard to believe that his lost memories had been so close all along.

He quietly looked at Marlena.

Roche’s world was restructured around Marlena.

* * *

He recalled last summer.

When he woke up in an unknown place, he felt very strange.

His whole body ached as if he had been beaten, and his mind was in a fog.

His head felt like it was burning hot.

His mind felt messy.

It was like spilling mop water over a carefully illustrated manuscript.

He tried desperately to grasp something but caught nothing.

It felt like this had happened before…

Back then, he didn’t even know what he was running from; he just fled.

At that moment, he even questioned whether he was a dignified being without any shame.

Then, there was someone who placed a cool towel on him and kept calling his name.

“Roche, Roche…”

Roche clung to that voice and barely regained his senses.

He was convinced that the word “Roche,” which she called out desperately, was his name.

He remembered the view when he barely opened his eyes. The room was as hazy as if it were filled with fog.

Even with his impaired vision, he could recognize the vibrant, fiery-colored hair.

His gaze naturally followed it.

When his headache and tinnitus subsided and his vision cleared, he saw Marlena Balthus’s face for the first time.

He would never forget the moment he greeted her.

Because of that peculiar expression of relief and despair that blossomed on Marlena’s face when he spoke.

Roche was captivated by her as if by fate.

Learning about her was easy.

It was like doing something he’d done before.

The Marlena he knew was confident, dignified, self-assured, and…

She had a habit of bearing things alone.

Roche quietly left her to it.

He had no choice.

Their relationship had a clear hierarchy.

They were not equals.

He just silently supported Marlena.

Even if it made him seem less attractive, he quietly protected her and only stepped in when needed.

He didn’t dislike such a role.

Roche speculated that he might not have been fond of flashy things long before he lost his memory.

It was a conclusion he reached by exploring himself while experiencing various things upon returning to the capital.

But recently, Marlena was indifferent.

Right after her duel with Oscar, there was an attack by the Red Crow.

Since then, she has been strangely nervous and secretly going here and there.

It also became frequent that she didn’t share anything with Roche, her bodyguard.

Roche disliked that.

Beyond the veil that seemed not to be lifted, there was the bright world of Marlena.

Yet it felt like she was keeping secrets and hiding somewhere.

“That it was because of me…”

Roche was engulfed in a peculiar feeling.

He didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.

In fact, after unintentionally becoming somewhat estranged from Marlena, Roche felt like he was a floating existence.

‘Wouldn’t knowing who I am free me from this frustrating feeling?’

Naturally, he developed a desire to regain his memory.

That desire deepened as he often talked with Ernst, who frequently visited the Balthus manor.

It might have been more so because most of those conversations happened when Marlena was absent.

And today, he finds an answer.

Whether it’s in a bad or good direction… it’s a step forward.

* * *

“Ernst!”

Marlena called her brother’s name.

Ernst couldn’t hide his astonishment when he saw Roche standing behind Marlena.

Roche gazed at Ernst over Marlena’s shoulder.

“W-what brings you here, sister?”

“I need to talk to Chris.”

“Roche too?”

Ernst seemed somehow uneasy.

Maybe because he was still young, his thoughts were completely visible.

Roche was certain there was a secret the siblings were hiding in the townhouse of Rowissum from Ernst’s tone and his slightly anxious footsteps.

“For now, Roche will wait. I think I need to have a talk.”

A few minutes of waiting was something he could naturally endure.

Ernst, with a suspicious look, alternated between Marlena and Roche before guiding Marlena upstairs.

Roche waited alone in the hall of the Rowissum townhouse until Marlena came out.

It was an excruciatingly long five minutes.

* * *

“You’ll meet people you used to know.”

“People I used to know?”

“Before this past spring. That’s when you and I first met.”

He had heard that story before.

Roche nodded lightly.

“The people inside are happy to meet you but are also concerned about your safety. In case of emergency…”

“I understand.”

Roche gently interrupted Marlena with a smile.

Marlena lightly bit her lip.

Roche was somehow concerned about the crack in her usually decisive personality.

He wanted to lift his hand and stroke her lips, but Ernst was watching.

“Are you ready?”

Marlena quietly asked.

Roche awkwardly smiled.

“It’s my first time doing something like this, so I’m not sure how to prepare properly.”

“If you’ve changed your mind, you can step back now.”

“No.”

Roche firmly grasped the doorknob.

“It’s time to face it.”

Something terrifying beyond the curtain.

He turned the doorknob tightly and slowly pushed the door open.

The well-maintained door didn’t creak at all and opened smoothly.

Sunlight poured in.

Inside, four people were standing.

“Your Grace…”

One of them called Roche by an unfamiliar title with a trembling voice.

It felt strange and uncomfortable.

Although he felt nauseous, Roche endured it and quietly looked at them.

“Do you remember us?”

At first, he was about to shake his head.

But before he moved his head, memories surged through the ice that had been firmly frozen.

‘You must survive, Your Grace. Only you…’

‘Go to the Kingdom of Arlo.’

‘Through the Marquisate of Rowissum…’

It was vivid in his ears, as if he were hearing it right now.

Roche was so startled that he covered his ears and collapsed to the floor.

“YourGrace!”

Someone approached in alarm and tried to support Roche.

“Stop!”

Marlena shouted loudly at that moment.

“Let him find it on his own.”

That was the right choice.

If they disturb Roche now, the situation could worsen.

“I’ve seen him like this once. Just help him lie on the couch.”

Roche writhed in pain and groaned.

It felt like a giant needle was piercing through his brain.

With each jab, painful memories surged.

His father on his sickbed.

His uncle shedding tears.

On the day his father died, no black drapery was hung in the Duke’s castle.

A chilly, suspicious red smoke filled the corridors.

The air of resentment seemed to suffocate Roche.

The person who barged in and pulled Roche’s hand…

‘Chris…’

‘Your Grace!’

Roche dove deeper into his memories.

He saw the face of his uncle shadowed.

It seemed like he rushed back upon hearing about his father’s deteriorating health.

His uncle’s behavior was odd.

More than concern for his brother, there was a vague, more intense anxiety.

It felt strange, but he overlooked it.

Just like the late Duke Wilhelm, Roche loved his uncle too.

Love led to betrayal.

‘It seems Rudolf has allied with a dark sorcerer. I’ll investigate further.’

‘For now, Your Grace, you must escape! If you, the rightful heir, fall into their hands, it will be the end of the Duchy of Rohitham!’

I know. I know.

So I swallowed the untested potion.

Crossed the forests and rivers.

I must escape. I must survive. To the Kingdom of Arlo. To somewhere with enough people to hide…

And I must protect the sword.

Father said if anything happened to him, Roche must take the sword and guard it.

The eye engraved on the sword belonged to the demon sealed underground…

‘Please… save me. If discovered… everything will be… in his hands…’

He pleaded with only his instincts left.

Burying his head in a green dress.

The owner of that green dress was…

“Countess…”

Roche called out to Marlena in a voice that seemed on the verge of breaking.

A smooth hand slipped into his grip. Roche held it tightly.

He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes.

Even though his memories returned, it would take time to organize them.

He matched the time and place.

He gasped for breath, muttering words like sleep talk.

“Are you okay?”

Frieda whispered in fear.

But none of Roche’s former loyal aides knew the answer.

Eventually, Roche’s body went limp.

Everyone watched him in silence.

His face, drenched in cold sweat, was delicate and beautiful, like a meticulously crafted doll.

Golden eyelashes were lifted to reveal the color of corolla flowers.

The first command Duke Ludwig Rohitham gave to his long-lost loyal aides was this:

“I’d like a glass of cold water.”