Am I supposed to give you an answer?”
Ella finally broke the long silence, her voice calm. Kai, catching the faint smirk playing on her lips, felt a flicker of unease.
The Duke leaned back against the chair with leisurely arrogance.
“…No. I refuse.”
But the words that followed caused a flicker of irritation to distort the Duke’s face.
“Your Highness… it seems you’re under a grave misunderstanding. We all know you're prone to being emotional and irrational.”
At that, Ella no longer even found it amusing.
Jokes only work once—after that, it’s just a poor performance.
“I’ve come to offer you an opportunity. While the prince was carving out merit on the battlefield, you spent your days idling in this peaceful palace, surrounded by men.”
“And yet… why are you here before me?”
Ella scoffed. She crossed her arms and stared at the Duke’s face—strained now with cracks too deep to conceal.
“That’s because…”
“It’s because you no longer have faith in Robert, isn’t it?” she interrupted coldly. “Even if he wipes out the northern tribes, shakes hands with the Grand Duke, and grovels before every crusty old noble on the continent…”
Her eyes—sharp and blue as flowing currents—gleamed with clarity. For a moment, Kai forgot to breathe.
“…You’ve come to me because you believe
I
will be the one to ascend the throne.”
That confidence.
That overflowing self-assurance.
That unyielding grace in every moment.
Kai was struck once again by awe for Ella.
It wasn’t that she refrained from cruelty and cold-bloodedness because she couldn’t.
It was because she had
no need
for such tools.
She knew victory could be won without bloodshed, without betrayal.
A shell of heaviness that had long encased Kai’s heart suddenly cracked and fell away.
One
can
triumph—without ruthlessness, without severing lives or hearts.
And Ella’s very existence seemed to say exactly that.
“I could just turn to Madam Margaret, you know,” the Duke said, with a voice veiled in composure but laced with the undercurrent of smoldering anger. “I could advise her to annul her deal with you. After all, I possess a high-purity spiritual crystal mine.”
Ella now knew without a doubt that her choice had been the right one.
And I’m the emotional one?
“But you didn’t go to her, did you? Maybe you’ve already been rejected, and you don’t even realize it.”
Margaret hadn’t mentioned anything about being approached by the Duke. Maybe he hadn’t even tried yet.
But one thing was certain:
If the man before me truly believed he could sway Margaret, he wouldn’t have come to me first.
The Duke was the type who would never act without securing every advantage. If he truly held the winning hand, he would have already tightened his grip around his opponent’s throat before delivering threats.
Why would he skip Margaret and come to me, trying to intimidate me first? He could’ve crushed me
after
finalizing his deal with her.
Lies.
Ella let a crooked smile slip.
Another hypothesis suddenly seemed far more plausible.
Perhaps the glories of Robert’s conquest, reported to the Emperor, were wildly exaggerated. Maybe all Robert’s really done over the past week is complain and whimper while the northern campaign goes nowhere.
Maybe now, sensing that he’s about to sink with a rotten rope, the Duke has turned to me. He wants to cut ties with Robert, claim the Tomb of the Sea Clan, and recover what he can from the gold and troops that Robert squandered.
If that’s the truth—then there’s absolutely no reason for Ella to feel cornered.
And wasn't the truth of her deduction written all over the Duke’s face?
Ella felt a strange calm settle into her dantian, like turbulent qi suddenly grounding into stillness.
She snapped her fingers.
“Attendant! Bring me the dress I’ll wear tomorrow! I feel like I could endure even a corset right now!”
“Y-You’re serious, Your Highness?”
The attendant outside the door asked, startled. The Duke’s expression twisted, but he didn’t move. He remained seated, despite having been dismissed.
Which meant he accepted that he no longer held the high ground in etiquette.
“Yes. Bring it before I change my mind,” Ella said coldly, glaring down at the Duke.
He stood with a sour look on his face.
“You’ll regret rejecting my offer.”
“…Perhaps. I hope the day comes when I finally learn what it is to regret something. Life’s gone far too well so far for me to have had the chance.”
She opened the door to her cultivation chamber herself. The Duke adjusted his robes, turned sharply, and left with brisk steps.
Once the door shut behind him, Ella turned to Kai and gave a bitter smile.
“Even though your own father cut out your tongue, you still worry about him? The moment I mentioned the Grand Duke, your face turned pale.”
Kai’s expression hardened.
That wasn’t why. That’s not what that look meant. He wanted to say that—but couldn’t.
Ella didn’t seem to be expecting a response. She brushed past him and dropped onto the sofa.
Staring at the rabbit doll Kai had made, she murmured,
“Let’s sell this. I’ll introduce you to an artificer I know. Of all the tinkering cultivators I’ve met, he’s one of the least detestable.”
“……”
“This ridiculous little thing apparently has some market value… so take it and go.”
Kai's eyes widened. His pale fingers went whiter still. Ella didn’t look his way as she continued.
“What’s with the shock? You think keeping you as a prisoner makes the Grand Duke flinch? You think I’ll keep feeding, clothing, and sheltering you for nothing?”
Feeding. Clothing. Sheltering.
The words pierced Kai’s heart like a needle through his core.
That was all the Princess had done during the week she’d kept him as a so-called prisoner.
Feed him. Clothe him. Let him rest.
“That said, I’m not generous enough to provide travel expenses for a prisoner. If you plan to return to the Grand Duchy, I won’t stop you. But…”
She set the rabbit down. Leaned her head back on the sofa, half-turning her gaze toward Kai.
“If there’s even a sliver of self-worth in you, don’t go crawling back to a father who cuts out his son’s tongue just because he doesn’t like what he hears.”
That kind of man isn’t a father.
But she didn’t say those words aloud.
They sounded too much like something she needed to tell herself.
✵
✵
✵
Five days later—
I woke with a stiff, aching body.
It’s because of the dance training…
Ugh…
Eric told me to lean into him whenever I stepped on his feet. To just let go and use his body as support.
So I did.
Which led to him dragging me around like a rag doll—spinning me, lifting me, even helping me jump.
And somehow… it actually worked. I sort of danced.
But even with that, after just a few days, my body was one giant bruise of soreness.
Even though all I’d done was let Eric move me however he liked…
‘Then how absurd is Eric’s stamina…?’
I glanced over at him sitting across from me. He didn’t look even slightly fatigued.
And then…
“While I was away, I heard the Elders entrusted you with the household’s financial ledgers,” the Duke said. “In the House of Orléans, the stewardship of internal finances has always required the hand of the Lady of the House. Do well, Emelline.”
The Duke showed no signs of fatigue, despite how much he had accomplished since his return to the manor just a week prior. He had not only presided over every family meal, but had also ordered renovations through the steward, summoned vassals for business discussions in the study, paid a formal visit to the Imperial Princess's cultivation palace—and, more recently, had taken to hunting
every single day
.
Who in their right mind returns home after so long and doesn't collapse into bed for days on end?
Truly, this man had no common sense.
A hyperdisciplined maniac. There really was no remedy for someone like the Duke.
Even as I thought that, I managed a docile smile, playing the role he expected.
“The steward will help me a lot, won’t you?” I said sweetly, looking toward the butler—who, now that the Duke had returned, spent more time tending to
his
needs than breathing down my neck.
He said everything would run smoothly as long as I brought the ledgers, right?
The steward caught my warning glance, eyes sharp as blades, and offered an awkward smile.
“Of course, Young Lady. I’ll serve you to the best of my ability.”
“Very well. If the steward is assisting, then I suppose there’s little to fear. But…”
The Duke set down the carving knife he’d been using to slice the roasted spirit-turkey glazed with fragrant raspberry essence. The knife screeched against the plate, setting my teeth on edge.
I instinctively glanced at him.
Tang!
Every day, without fail, the Duke had gone hunting.
As if he were starving from the lack of bloodshed these past months, he threw himself into the chase, returning drenched in the crimson stench of death.
The servants whispered.
“He even brought back a lark? That’s rare. Doesn’t he usually spare the little ones?”
“The groundskeeper said he shot everything that moved—badgers, squirrels. He left behind whatever wouldn’t fit in the bag.”
Rotting corpses in the forest.
I could already smell them just imagining it.
Even if I give it to him, he’ll still kill it.
The gunshots that rang out all afternoon yesterday had interrupted my dance practice more than once.
And if I don’t give it to him… he’ll definitely kill it.
Goodbye, Emelline.
The image of Philip and Helena’s lifeless bodies haunted my mind like ghosts. I could still feel the hole that had been blown through my chest in that nightmare, the blood flowing like thick raspberry sauce from my heart and soaking into the rug—
right here
, in this very estate.
“You must remember,” the Duke said with a chilling calmness, “that in the cultivation palace, there is no one you can rely on. You must give everything you have to uphold the honor and dignity of the House of Orléans.”
His red pupils gleamed like cursed gemstones.
I felt my grip tighten on the ceremonial dagger I held. If I could… I would slay him here and now.
A man who takes lives on a whim, who ends or spares with no more thought than shifting the wind—such a creature doesn’t deserve to breathe the same qi as me.
This is all because of you…
And once a man has taken a life, who’s to say he won’t do it again?
Today, more than any other day, I felt like I could hardly stand to breathe the same air as this man.
It was then that Eric, seated across from me, calmly wiped his lips and said:
“Why would Emelline be alone in the cultivation palace? She has me. I’ll stand by her. So you need not worry yourself over the honor of House Orléans.” Eric stood up the moment he finished speaking, not even a breath’s delay. As he rose, the Duke, putting on a façade of warmth, tried to scold him gently.
“Eric. I haven’t even finished the meal yet. Where do you think you’re—”
But Eric didn’t stop. He kept walking toward me, ignoring the Duke’s voice as though it were nothing more than the wind during meditation.
He held out his hand to me and said,
“Didn’t you say your core was hurting? That your qi was knotted up…”
…Huh?
I tilted my head, confused.
“We… Rose is…”
Eric clenched his jaw tight, his voice faltering. A flush crept up his ears, turning them red.
For a moment, I was too stunned to speak.
Chapter 81