The death of the Duchess and the presence of a clear culprit will confuse the Duke, so escaping won’t be too difficult. The real problem is how to fill the coffin.

Since the coffin will be moved for the funeral, even with the lid closed, the people carrying it will certainly feel its lightness if it’s empty.

After some thought, Dalia came up with an unexpectedly simple solution. The place where the coffin will be placed before the funeral has already been fixed.

It’s in the basement of the Duke’s residence, a place only a few members of the Fraser family and the staff responsible for the site are allowed to enter.

As head of the family, Dalia had the right to go there, so she decided to secretly place small, heavy stones to match her weight. It wouldn’t arouse suspicion, as it was quite natural for her to walk around the mansion inspecting things.

And now she held the last stone. As Dalia left her office, she told those who followed her that she wanted to take a walk around the mansion.

“I need to walk around the mansion.”

As Dalia wandered through the areas of the mansion that were off-limits to the servants, she carefully tidied up Curtis’ room and made sure that the Duchess’ duties were completed thoroughly, as usual.

Strangely, she felt at ease. Perhaps it was because she was confident of success, or perhaps it was because she felt that even if she failed, it wouldn’t matter much.

Either way, today would be the end. Dalia smiled brightly as she greeted the noblewoman who had arrived uninvited.

As they chatted, Curtis stopped by the Duke’s residence for a quick visit, just as he had before.

“Your Grace, you’re home early.”

“No, something unexpected has come up. But…”

Curtis looked out of the well-kept window, which, although closed, offered a clear view.

“There was a carriage outside?”

“Yes. It’s a regular visitor.”

“She’s someone the lady has been spending time with recently. I’m told she’s a well-known noblewoman in society.”

Despite Sebastian’s rather detailed answer, Curtis soon ignored it and began gathering the necessary documents to leave.

“Ah, Sebastian. Tell the lady I won’t be dining with her, as His Majesty has summoned me.”

“Yes.”

“And so, Curtis left the mansion as he had before, not caring whether Dalia would hurry to follow or not. Suddenly, however, he stopped and fixed his gaze on a certain spot.”

Sebastian, who was following him, reflexively looked in the direction Curtis was staring, but there was nothing there. But Curtis could see something.

The strange phenomenon that had not appeared since he had unconsciously distanced himself from Dalia, finding her an uncomfortable presence, had reappeared.

This time it was shattered like a broken mirror.

Dalia stood there with a stunned expression, her hands clenched tightly together, pale with fear as she stared blankly at something. Though her trembling expression was not clearly visible, it was certain where she was looking.

She looked at the main door. If there was something there, why did Dalia look so frightened?

That raised another question.

Curtis Fraser’s mind had returned to Dalia Fraser.

He stared at her broken form for a long moment before quickly looking away.

Although there have been slight changes since the time change, Curtis still plans to leave as he always did.

If the incident hadn’t happened, he would have left quickly through the main door, just as he had before.

But a few minutes before Curtis saw Dalia in her broken state, she had been slowly sipping the tea she had prepared with Alois, carefully measuring the passing moments.

She knew, deep down. She could feel it. It was almost time. She would lose consciousness before she finished the cup.

Just as she had predicted, the moment the third cup was empty, she swallowed the bitter lump of blood in her throat and closed her eyes.

The first to notice Dalia’s strange condition was, of course, the woman who was always closest to her, always facing her, always talking to her.

“Duchess… Madam? Madam?”

As Dalia swayed, so pale she looked ghostly, the noblewoman’s eyes widened in alarm and she instinctively reached out for her. But her frail hand sliced through the air, grasping nothing.

Bang!

Dalia’s body, stiff and rigid, collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud.

In the midst of the sudden chaos, the noblewoman stood frozen, too shocked to move.

A loud crash echoed through the room and a servant of the Duke, who had pried open the door to peer inside, screamed in horror.

“AAAH! The Duchess! Who did this?! Who?!”

The mansion was instantly thrown into chaos.

“What is this? What’s going on?!”

“What… what is this?!”

The noblewoman, completely confused, stuttered and waved her hands aimlessly. Although she didn’t approach Dalia, perhaps sensing the danger, she clearly saw the dark brown blood trickling from Dalia’s lips.

The noblewoman’s face turned ashen, reflecting the colour of the blood. At that moment, she instinctively understood that she was involved in something far more serious than she could have imagined.

Driven by pure survival instinct, she quickly turned and stumbled towards the open door where people were frantically running around.

A few minutes later, sensing something was wrong, Curtis rushed into the room. The noblewoman froze when she saw him.

“H-h-huh. G-g… D… Duchess…”

The noblewoman, seemingly crushed by Curtis’ pressure, could only open her mouth before collapsing to the floor. But Curtis ignored her and entered the room.

“Your Grace! The lady!”

The maid, standing helplessly beside Dalia with an indescribable look on her face, cried out as blood continued to flow from Dalia’s sealed lips.

Without hesitation, Curtis lifted Dalia’s body from the floor. She was surprisingly light. Unlike anyone he had ever held in his physical training, Dalia felt weightless in his arms.

A wave of shock hit him, but there was no time to dwell on it. The smell of blood, soaking through her clothes, filled the air. Her breathing slowed and her body lost heat.

“Dalia, Dalia? Can you hear me?”

Someone’s voice sounded muffled, as if blocked by a thick wall. But Dalia’s consciousness was already fading and she couldn’t think clearly enough to answer.

All she could do was force her heavy eyelids to open at the constant calling. When her eyes finally opened, everything was a blur and she couldn’t make out who was calling her.

Just before she lost consciousness completely, a thought lingered in Dalia’s mind: *Maybe now I’ll finally find peace.

Even though she thought that, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. A brief, tired expression flickered across her face before fading. As her consciousness continued to fade, she fell into a deep silence. That fleeting expression was the last she saw before she passed out.

Just before her consciousness faded, that fleeting expression. That completely dry expression was imprinted like a mark on Curtis’ eyelids, which were closer to Dalia than ever before. Though it would remain an unknowable, deep and ugly wound at that moment, neither of them was aware of it.

“Is the doctor far?”

“They said they were on their way…”

” Lock the villa!”

While many people around them were shouting and running, Curtis seemed detached from them, concentrating only on Dalia.

Her eyelids stubbornly closed, her waxen cheeks colourless, her lips stained with dried blood and her chest no longer rising or falling – everything about her was still.

A sharp, intense pain tore through Curtis. It felt as if someone had taken hold of his heart and squeezed it with crushing force. At that moment it felt as if a gaping hole had opened in his chest.

But just as before, Curtis turned away from anything that made him uncomfortable, especially when it came to Dalia. His voice was cold and emotionless as he gave the order.

“Don’t make a scene. Arrest this woman first. We have to find out what happened.”

As Duke of Fraser, it was his responsibility to act swiftly and decisively to manage the fallout from the Duchess’s death, to prevent chaos from spreading. The circumstances and details of her death, as well as the identity of those responsible, were so clear that there was no need for a lengthy investigation.

“I didn’t do it! The tea was the usual one recommended by the Duchess…!”

The woman identified as the culprit was dragged away, protesting her innocence. Curtis, however, remained stoic, his gesture final as he decided her fate.

The funeral took place with unusual speed and silence. This was at the request of none other than Dalia’s parents, the Count and Countess.

Although it had been declared an accident, Curtis didn’t want the scandal of the Duchess of Fraser’s poisoning to become the subject of gossip. He agreed to a quiet funeral to avoid attracting attention.

“…In this way Dalia Fraser returns to the embrace of God, may she…”

One by one, white snowflakes fell gently on the coffin, now firmly buried six feet underground. Amidst the bitter winter winds, Dalia Fraser, Duchess of Fraser, was dead.