Since everyone was busy with their own duties, it was challenging to gather the knights. Eileen, not wanting to impose, decided to request the presence of only the knight with the most free time.
That night, Lotan arrived to see Eileen.
I'm sorry for calling you so suddenly.
Eileen stared at Lotan with a mixture of gratitude and apology. He frowned, clearly confused.
"If the Archduchess summons me, then naturally I must come, " he replied firmly, almost as if he were reprimanding her for apologizing. Eileen shook her head vigorously at his response.
Taking a deep breath, he prepared to speak. His voice, tense and hoarse, barely rose above a whisper.
Cesare... almost killed me.
It was clear that although Lotan knew Eileen had been wounded by Cesare, he didn't know the details. Eileen struggled to continue, her words forcing out, leaving the now stunned Lotan speechless.
— Then he… started cutting himself in front of me.
The knight's expression visibly changed with shock. Eileen took a sip of her hot tea to soothe her aching throat before speaking again.
— I'm afraid it will happen again… and that Cesare will end up getting seriously hurt.
She drank more tea, savoring the warmth that soothed her throat.
While Eileen continued to drink, Lotan let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Your Grace, " he said, his scarred face contorted in anguish and his voice heavy with pain. "Please prioritize your own safety above all else."
His advice echoed what Cesare had said, but with a tone of deep concern.
[I'll try my best] , he quickly scribbled on a piece of paper and showed it to him. Although Lotan's expression remained worried, he decided not to insist.
[If you know anything about the state of His Grace… please tell me.]
Eileen asked if Lotan had any idea why the man was self-harming, but despite her pleas and the tension in his voice, Lotan remained silent.
Although his appearance generally suggested a gruff man, Lotan had always been warm and kind to Eileen. He was the type who frequently initiated conversations and enjoyed talking to her, so it was unusual for him to remain so quiet for so long.
From the silence, Eileen realized that Lotan knew something, but couldn't tell her.
'How frustrating.'
She could tell there was a reason for his silence, but that didn't lessen her frustration. Biting her lip, feeling exhausted and resigned, she picked up her pen to ask another question.
So, what should I do if something similar happens again?
After a long moment, Lotan finally spoke, his gaze fixed on Eileen's trembling handwriting. His words were completely unexpected.
"If something like this happens again, " he said, "stab Your Grace with a dagger."
Eileen gasped in shock. Lotan continued, his tone strangely rational despite the absurd suggestion.
— You must stab him as if you really intend to kill him. Only then will he come to his senses.
He explained that she should act without hesitation, ensuring that the man would not die from his injury. Stunned, Eileen began frantically scribbling a reply.
[How can I do this? I can't! I have absolutely no confidence!]
Lotan, carefully reading the hastily written note with spelling errors, offered a new suggestion.
— You lack confidence, so how about practicing? I can teach you how to use a dagger.
Eileen shook her head vigorously at the offer. The conversation had gone completely off the rails. A cold sweat spread across her skin as she stared at Lotan, stunned.
He was absolutely serious, not a trace of joking on his face. After insisting that Eileen should stab Cesare, they finally returned to the main subject.
"We can't tell you everything yet. But one thing is certain, Your Grace, under no circumstances, could bear to see you wounded. Never. That's why I suggested you stab him, " Lotan explained, maintaining a serious and unwavering tone.
With that, the conversation ended. After having called someone over only to end up talking about dagger training, Eileen accompanied Lotan to the exit of the mansion.
As he watched the carriage depart, his mind was filled with a whirlwind of complex thoughts. Amidst his reflections, Sonio approached silently and informed him.
His Grace has returned. He is in the courtyard. Would you like to see him?
Normally, Cesare would be the first to look for her upon returning to the mansion. Having Sonio bring the information meant that he hadn't come to meet her, and perhaps didn't even intend to.
"I haven't seen him since this morning, " Eileen murmured.
Noticing that Cesare insisted on seeing her first, even though they were living in the same house after she became Archduchess, it seemed that today was her turn to seek him out. She thanked Sonio and went out to the courtyard.
The place was illuminated by lanterns and moonlight, revealing every detail of the landscape. Eileen walked silently through the expansive space, meticulously cared for by the mansion's gardeners. It was a prominent location, where each plant was precisely arranged.
As Eileen approached, she saw Cesare standing under the orange tree. He leaned against the tree, his expression stoic, as he smoked a cigarette.
The sight of the man smoking was unfamiliar to Eileen, and she stopped abruptly. His red eyes met hers with a disturbing calmness, as if he had known she was there from the start.
A peculiar, strange silence settled between them. Cesare lowered his cigarette and exhaled the smoke, then extinguished it in a decorative ashtray that blended perfectly into the surroundings.
While observing the ashtray, he noticed the ornate object resembling a pillar under the orange tree. It was only then that he realized its purpose.
Cesare brushed off his clothes with a casual gesture before turning his gaze to her. Eileen hesitated for a moment, but eventually approached. He remained motionless until she was standing before him.
Standing before Cesare, Eileen looked at the man, taking a deep breath. The faint smell of cigarette smoke enveloped her, marking the first time she had experienced something like this coming from him.
Faced with this unfamiliar side of the man, Eileen blinked several times, unsure how to begin the conversation. The casual greeting she had planned seemed completely inappropriate in this tense moment; her lips remained closed, perhaps due to her unusual behavior today.
After a long pause, Cesare suddenly leaned closer.
"Why did you ask someone else ," he murmured, his warm breath brushing her cheek. His voice was soft, yet insistent, "instead of asking your husband directly?"
Eileen swallowed hard. Her throat, though still slightly hoarse from the day of tea and medicine, didn't hurt as much. Determined to maintain her composure, she replied with effort:
Would you tell me if I asked?
Cesare, observing her attentively, calmly replied:
— This is all I wish to reveal.
Gathering courage despite her anxiety, Eileen asked:
Please show me your palm.
Cesare removed his gloves without hesitation and showed his hand. The scar caused by the stiletto had completely disappeared. Eileen examined his palm and then met his gaze, which he held steady.
Realizing this might be her only chance to get an answer, Eileen gripped her hand tightly and asked:
Why did you do that to the brick house?
The wind rustled through the orange tree leaves like gentle waves. The man's gaze remained fixed on her, intense and unwavering.
At first, it seemed he would remain silent. Then he began to speak in a dry, distant tone, as if narrating someone else's story.
— I once had a dream where we lived together in a brick house.
He reached out with his free hand and unwrapped Eileen's bandage, skillfully undoing the knot around her neck.
— It was a long dream. I was trapped in it and wandered for what seemed like an eternity. To escape —
The white bandage slid off, revealing the marks beneath. The man's voice grew more distant as he continued:
I had to kill you.
Eileen remained silent, absorbing the weight of what she had heard. Cesare's tone softened slightly as he added:
But yesterday, for a moment, I couldn't distinguish between dream and reality…
Her voice trailed off, and a fragile, empty smile crossed her lips. Her expression was calm, but her eyes seemed as dry and fragmented as shattered glass.
Seeing the pain in her eyes, Eileen felt a tightness in her chest, as if she were holding shards of glass in her own hands. Struggling to contain her own anguish, she whispered:
— … It was just a dream. It wasn't really me.
She wished that the man would not be tormented by her illusions. Squeezing his hand tightly, Eileen murmured:
— I am here now, Cesare.
To be continued…