# 26
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At that moment, laughter rang out from somewhere. It was a faint laughter coming from far away, and it soon faded away, but it took Grace with it to a moment in the past.
A moment when she was standing in the middle of a vast wheat field, holding her father's hand. She doesn't know why, but that day she was laughing loudly.
“Oh, this little girl, she laughs until her navel almost falls out.”
The echo of her laughter that day is still clear in her memory. Grace conjured up that innocent laughter for a moment, then blew out the burning candle flame and went to bed. She lay on her side, pulled the covers up to her head, and hugged a large pillow as she hugged her body to it. Sleep only came to her like this, curled up, completely covered by the pillow and quilt.
She blinked slowly, and her eyes were drawn to the stove. The firewood he had left was gently warming the room.
Naturally, as soon as she thought about him, she felt as if warmth was wrapping around her back, as if a solid force was pulling the bow string with it. A mirage-like feeling, existing as if it did not exist. However, drowsiness was slowly creeping up on her.
As soon as she closed her eyes, a vast golden wheat field spread out before her.
When everything is over... I will return to that field where I used to walk with my father and mother. I inhale the fragrant smell of wheat, and laugh...just as I did that day.
＊ ＊ ＊
At the same time, Walter, lying on his bed like Grace, suddenly felt himf being pulled into a deep sleep. It was a dream, and yet, he knew he had to wake up.
But whoever he was, it wasn't easy.
In a dream as sticky as a swamp, he was a helpless child. The former Duke of Richmond, who looked so much like his father, looked at him, smiling.
Your Highness, starting now, you must live in Walter's name. Act like the young Duke of Richmond, and hide yourf. Only this way you will survive.
He smiled with dark, downcast eyes, but tears were hanging at their edges.
Walter shouted with all his might.
He screamed that he was crazy. How could he look at his son burning instead of him? With what mind did he do that? Was there really no other way other than this damned way?!
But, as in all his previous dreams, no sound came out.
If you act too sensitively like this, you will quickly be found out. Your personality and my son's personality are very different.
The former Duke looked at him with great concern, then said as if he had given up:
- If hiding yourf is difficult, it is best to talk as little as possible.
— ……
— Please, live, save His Majesty the Emperor, and return to your original place.
After those words, the Duke took a step back and bowed deeply to him. Then he turned around. A little boy and a woman standing upright approached with sad faces, and the three walked away together into the thick darkness.
Walter called out to them hoary, but they never came back.
Killing the character wasn't easy. So he kept his words to a minimum, and acted as if he were Walter as much as possible, until one day he began to get confused about the matter.
Who am I?
When he remembered Eliza's bitter crying, he felt like he was in the heart of hell.
No, it was actually burning.
He found himf lying on black, burnt ground. Choking smoke fills the sky, and black soot fills his lungs.
There was a moment when he wished that cold rain would fall and wash away everything
- You have long been my compass... and my anchor.
An elegant sound poured like rain over the flames.
- Thanks to you, I was able to endure.
Lie or miracle, the flames that had been swirling around Walter went out. Only then did he let out a harsh exhale. A woman who looked like fresh greenery appeared before him.
Grace looked at him with steady eyes, then said quietly:
- Get up.
With its whisper like a breeze, the heat, ash, and soot vanished as if they had never existed. In the next moment, a name he had missed slipped out from her pink lips.
— Ares.
Walter suddenly opened his eyes.
Between dream and reality, he was just gasping, when the same sound reached his ear again.
— Ares.
He stared into the void in astonishment, then covered his eyes with his hand and began to laugh faintly. Dry, sharp laughter, like a harsh winter wind. Then, as if nothing had happened, he pulled himf together, wiped his face roughly, and muttered sharply:
“What a strange dream.”
He got up slowly, and his eyes went to the door behind which Grace was staying.
In the complete darkness, her image appeared to him like a ghost. Her shiny golden hair, her round white forehead, her golden eyebrows, her big green eyes, and her sunken dimple in her thin cheek.
Walter's gaze darkened until he looked like an abyss.
“You said you tolerated it because I was there?”
Those words shook him violently.
“And that I was your compass...and your anchor?”
He got up and headed for the door. When he stood in front of him, he leaned his forehead against him.
Yes. Only now did he understand why it was different.
Grace saw who he really was, behind a mask of guilt. The mask he had to wear to survive was tainted by guilt. He was always thirsty, suffocating as if he had been crammed into a narrow box without air.
The moment her eyes flashed clearly into his mind, the mask enveloping him began to crack. Piece by piece, until it finally collapsed. At that moment, the pale light of dawn began to seep through the window.
In the midst of a world that was beginning to regain its light, Walter smiled without realizing it.
＊ ＊ ＊
That night, Flora didn't sleep well.
She couldn't sleep because of Walter. The majesty that radiates from his broad body, his fixed gaze, his perfectly sculpted features, and his low voice that scratches the heart.
All the men who had proposed to her previously were missing something. If the figure is good, the character is light. Even if the character is good, her lineage or appearance does not satisfy her.
As for Walter... he was perfect.
When she imagined the image of him looking at her with eyes full of affection, she was overcome with an ecstasy the likes of which she had never experienced before.
Flora pressed her beating heart and said firmly:
“I would make a perfect duchess.”
Duchess of Richmond.
Flora Richmond.
The more she said the name, the more certain she became that it was her destiny.
She is the only daughter of the Lewin family, the closest family to the Marquis of Lenco. The Marquis and his wife treat her as their daughter. The Lewin family have been staying at Richmond Castle for five years. For Flora, the castle was her home. The women and young men of the Northwest, who would later lead the community, revere her.
Therefore, controlling the inner palace of Richmond would not be difficult for her.
Flora rose before daybreak and called the maids. Their faces were unusually pale, but they paid no attention.
“Go and get the rule book of the Duchy of Richmond.”
The book was almost sighing thick. Flora flipped through its first pages listlessly, then asked while fiddling with the papers:
“And how is that woman? Do you even know how to handle cutlery?
One main course with full cutlery was Flora's own idea.
The maids smiled stiffly, trembling slightly, and then answered:
“She… knows her anyway.”
“But she looked awkward.”
Flora pursed her lips in dissatisfaction.
“She must have learned it in a hurry. Really funny.”
“Ah... yes, indeed...”
“Did she wear jewelry or fancy dresses?”
“She had no jewelry to mention, and the dress was ordinary...”
Another smile appeared on Flora's lips.
“Bring the dresses and jewelry you bought this time.”
“Yes, miss.”
While Flora was busy decorating, she received an unexpected call.
The Marquise was requesting her presence.