YSGD 23

Chapter 23

Who on earth was that man? And that power of his, just what was it…?

Xenos recalled the instant his pupils had narrowed vertically into a vivid yellow slit.
It had been a bizarre sight, yet strangely, he hadn’t felt afraid.
Not fear, but something slightly different—an overwhelming sensation.
As though entrusting everything to him was only natural, bordering on submission….

Precisely because it didn’t feel dangerous, it was all the more dangerous.

Xenos was a man with strong vigilance.
Throughout the course of his life, suspicion and wariness had always accompanied him.

She said it wasn’t René Blanche, but judging by that reaction, it must have been a lie. Still, as Katarina Hugo said, it doesn’t seem to be a relationship tinged with affection….

Nothing was predictable. Not a single thing.

Xenos once again retraced his memories.
On the day of the festival, it truly felt as if he had been bewitched.
Meeting that strange man, getting swept up in the atmosphere, pretending to be a loving newlywed couple, floating lanterns together as if they really were close….

In fact, even after returning to the ducal castle, Xenos had been dazed for quite a while.
It almost felt like he was slightly drunk—though he didn’t know on what.

That night, for the first time in a long while, he slept deeply.

[Haa. This should let things settle down for a while. It’s only temporary, but still.]

For Xenos, who could count the number of nights he slept soundly on one hand, this was nothing short of astonishing.
For several days after the festival, everything was surprisingly peaceful. Everything.
He even thought he might finally be free of this accursed madness.

“Where… is this?”

As expected, once those dreamlike days of calm ended, the madness only worsened.
The morning after thinking he had slept well, Xenos opened his eyes in the middle of a thicket, his heart sinking in despair.

At least until now, his sleepwalking had been confined to wandering around inside the ducal castle.
But his bare feet told a different story—scratched and torn by twigs, as if he had been roaming outside for a long time.

[I’ll come for you soon. Hold on until then.]

The man who had offered such flimsy hope, only to snatch it away entirely.
There was only one guess Xenos could make about his identity.

But… nothing is certain yet. Not a single thing.

The man he met at the festival had vanished after uttering cryptic words.
He said he would come, but as if in backlash, the madness only deepened, making Xenos increasingly impatient.

In the end, the one holding the clue was—

René Blanche.

Once again, it was that woman.

With a lingering sense of unease, Xenos went to find René immediately.
But an unexpected answer awaited him.

“Your Grace, my apologies. Madam has come down with a severe cold. Her fever is very high.”

The maid assigned to René stopped Xenos outside the cabin, looking troubled, leaving him no choice but to turn back.

In Xenos’s mind, the image of the woman shivering by the riverside on the night of the festival rose vividly.
Even after he had taken off his coat and wrapped it around her, she must have ended up catching a cold anyway.
Because of the considerable difference in their heights, the hem of the cloak had dragged messily along the ground, but still….

Is her body really that weak?

He also recalled the sight of René in the room at the end of the west tower.
Was that why she hopped around every morning, claiming she was training her stamina?

Seeing with his own eyes the place where she lived made him feel oddly unsettled.
The old cabin was clearly worn with age and cramped.
Yet she seemed perfectly satisfied, smiling brightly in such a place.

“….”

It felt absurdly foolish.
He even disliked that uncomplaining nature of hers.

And yet, for some reason, the thought crossed his mind—Should I offer her a room in the main building?
Was this guilt? Or pity?

But wasn’t it ridiculous to feel pity for a woman of the Blanche family?
More than anything, if he made that offer, René would surely respond—

“No thanks. Why would I?”

…rejecting it outright without a second thought.

After clashing with her a few times, he had gained a rough sense of what kind of person she was.
Still, flipping his evaluation of René Blanche so easily would be just as absurd.

As if walking through a fog where he couldn’t see even an inch ahead, Xenos felt a heavy pressure settle in his chest.

That was when—

Knock, knock.

“Your Grace, it’s Karl.”

“Yes. Come in.”

Karl, the old butler who always greeted him with textbook precision, entered the study and spoke.

“It seems Her Grace the Duchess has visited the main library. She likely believes she came without anyone noticing, but… I’ve instructed the servants to pretend ignorance and to stay away from the library for now.”

“…….”

Listening silently, Xenos set down the pen he had been holding and stood up.
Proof that he had been lost in deep thought—the document before him was soaked not with words, but with blotches of ink that had leaked from the pen tip.

“Shall I bring tea?” Karl asked perceptively.
Though it wasn’t on the schedule, he seemed prepared to arrange a tea time between Xenos and René.

Xenos shook his head lightly.

“No. Instead, make sure not even an ant dares linger near the library until I come out.”

His heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
His mind was filled with thoughts of only one woman.

…Why did you come here?

Muttering the rebuke to himself, he found that before he knew it, he was already standing in front of the library.

Xenos carefully grasped the bronze door handle and turned it.
They had done a major cleaning recently, and perhaps the handle had been oiled as well—the door opened smoothly, without a sound.

And then, a figure came into view.

“…….”

A graveyard of old books where even time seemed to have stopped.
At its very center sat René Blanche, silent and still.

Completely immersed in the world of books, she seemed utterly unaware of Xenos’s presence.
Even now, pages were softly fluttering as they turned.

Sunlight filtering through the stained glass scattered into multicolored hues around her face.
That mottled light slid slowly—very slowly—down her silver hair.

Like threads spun from moonlight, her silver hair flowed in gentle waves all the way to her waist.
Annoyed by the strands falling forward as she bent her head, René casually tucked them behind her ear.

Thanks to that, her face came fully into view.

“…!”

So it really was true that she was ill.
She looked a little thinner than a few days ago, yet her beauty remained unchanged.

Long, thick eyelashes lowered over her eyes.
Within them, her vivid crimson pupils shone so brilliantly they demanded attention.

In Rembrandt’s noble society, there had long been a superstition that illegitimate children with red eyes brought misfortune to their families.
Anyone who looked into René Blanche’s eyes could easily imagine what that misfortune might be.

She… enchants people.

They were like rubies of the purest clarity, or freshly blossomed roses.
Once your gaze was captured by her eyes, it was difficult to escape.

Was that why the Blanche family had hidden René Blanche away so carefully?
But that could never have been a reason to hate her.

And yet, René was so thin and small.
Her skin, pale to the point of translucence, looked smooth and cold like marble.

But Xenos had touched her warmth before.
That night—the small hand he had taken without meaning to.
That hand, barely half the size of his own, was now busily turning pages.

Recalling the warmth that had been far more gentle than he expected, Xenos shuddered involuntarily.

Suddenly, René lifted her head.
Their eyes met.

“Ah.”

A small exclamation escaped her lips.

Xenos stared at her in silence and thought,

What… are you, exactly?

What kind of existence are you—
to make me feel this way…?

What the heck?

I only lifted my head because my cheek felt strangely itchy.
And there the duke was, standing boldly right in front of the door.

It even felt like our eyes had just met.

Damn it. Did I imagine that? Please tell me I imagined that.

I narrowed my eyes and tried to refocus, just in case.
But it was useless.
That face, that build—there was only one person like that in the entire ducal castle.

He’s going to chew me out again for using this place without permission.

From experience, the duke—despite his broad chest—had the petty temperament of a small-minded man.
If something displeased him, he would nitpick everything.
So avoiding him whenever possible was the best policy.

I’m not avoiding crap because I’m scared—I’m avoiding it because it’s dirty. Tch.

Cursing him soundly in my head, I sprang to my feet.
I needed to strike first, before he could say anything.

“I-I’m sorry! I heard no one uses this place anymore… Still, I should have asked for permission. I’m sorry for using it without asking. I’ll leave right away.”

I pressed down on my wildly pounding heart, but then the duke caught me with an unexpected remark.