Chapter 2
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Dear, I believe you may be misunderstanding.
Episode 2
"Are you coming to your senses? Call someone at once—"
Before he could finish his words, her voice spilled forth between her lips once more.
"...Lucas Black."
This time, I heard it clearly.
'Lucas Black.'
Grace Oellin's voice, whispering my name.
Lucas stood frozen, gazing down at Grace Oellin, who lay limp and helpless in his arms.
Between her lips, swollen and crimson as though ready to burst, his name tumbled forth like a sigh—sweet and perilous as juice seeping from ripe fruit.
'Why is she calling my name...?'
Lucas stared down at the unconscious Grace, his expression bewildered.
It was then that the servants, who had been waiting at a distance, finally noticed something amiss and came rushing over.
"Oh, Miss! What on earth is—!"
"She collapsed suddenly. Was Lady Oellin unwell today?"
"I... I'm not entirely sure myself..."
Julie, the maid who had accompanied Grace, fluttered about anxiously. Her expression betrayed equal confusion.
Lucas waved his hand dismissively and swiftly ordered a carriage brought around.
"Good heavens, Miss! What has happened!"
Julie, tears glistening in her eyes, handed Grace over to the knight Cassia. Cassia, cradling Grace, quickly rose to his feet and rushed away.
Lucas clenched his fist, then released it, as though savoring once more the warmth of her body that had vanished from his embrace. It was in that very moment that Grace's eyes fluttered slightly open as she was carried away in the knight's arms.
He saw it clearly.
Grace's eyes, gazing back at him, glistening with moisture.
As Grace receded into the distance, his confusion deepened.
And in that same instant, Julie and Cassia, who bore her away, found their own confusion mounting at the murmured words spilling from Grace's lips.
"...sorry."
"Pardon? Miss, I couldn't quite hear you!"
"Miss, are you awake? What did you just say? Sorry?"
No, that's not it. It's not...
As her vision blurred and faded, I recalled the fragments of emotion that pounded relentlessly in my chest, threatening to suffocate me.
The desperate sincerity I had longed to attach to the end of his name, which I had breathed out ceaselessly.
This heart that felt as though it would plummet at the mere sight of his receding shadow.
Lucas Black, you...
"You... what... sorry. No..."
* * *
So it was precisely three years and two months ago that Grace Oellin first heard the tale of Lucas Black.
Grace's delicate constitution had delayed her debutante presentation considerably.
Even now she possessed a certain shyness, but the Grace of those days was far quieter, far more innocent—a girl whose frequent childhood illnesses and the early loss of her mother had cultivated a withdrawn nature within her.
Of course, the rigid neglect of her austere father and her half-brother's relentless attempts to torment her had only deepened this tendency.
Her father, Capren Oellin, summoned her as she stood in her debutante gown and spoke thus:
'Do not draw attention to yourself, Grace.'
Words she could never forget.
The sharp, piercing edge of her father's voice remained vivid in her ears.
'You need only exist quietly, marry into a suitable house, and depart. Until then, you must do nothing that would obstruct your brother's—our family's—path forward.'
Such was Capren Oellin, her father.
A man who valued his family less than his house, and his house less than himself.
Many praised him as a frugal and exemplary marquis, his dignified bearing and stern demeanor lending him an air of virtue. Yet...
How many among those who knew him intimately would truly call Marquis Oellin admirable?
There had been but one occasion when Marquis Capren Oellin had patted her shoulder and offered her encouragement.
"Your debut was successful, so I intend to begin inquiring into suitable matches. Several houses took notice of you during the season. I am considering whether the Black Family—the most promising among them—might not serve as an excellent connection."
It was precisely when he broached the subject of her marriage.
"The Black Family, you say...."
Grace, summoned abruptly for tea, had scarcely brought the cup to her lips.
Marquis Capren Oellin, wearing what seemed a practiced smile, began to recount the history of the Black Family in succession.
"Indeed. The Black—as in the rearing black stallion. An ancient and wealthy ducal house."
The rearing black stallion's Black.
Even one as ignorant of society as Grace could not fail to know of such a house.
"The eldest son, Lucas Black, and his brother Cain Black are the primary pillars supporting the family at present. Fortuitously, both remain unmarried."
Marquis Oellin savored the aroma of his tea, murmuring with evident satisfaction.
"The second son, Cain Black, would certainly be excellent, yet surely Lucas Black, the family head, would be preferable. He serves as confidant to the Crown Prince, the future king, after all."
The name Lucas Black entered Grace's mind as she sat stunned by the sudden mention of marriage prospects.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Marquis Oellin pressed forward relentlessly.
"Though we have not yet received a betrothal contract, a household with two men of marriageable age would scarcely refuse should we send one. Of that, I am certain."
Marquis Oellin spoke as though their refusal were utterly inconceivable.
"As it happens, both men are said to attend the upcoming royal banquet. It would not be amiss to observe what manner of men they are. Better still if you could make an impression upon them."
And so Grace found herself thrust toward a gathering hosted by the Royal Palace.
'Somewhere in this hall, Lucas Black or Cain Black must be present.'
Grace could not help but be curious about these men whose names had been linked with hers in betrothal discussions.
Though she harbored no particular desire for marriage, as a noblewoman by birth, escape from matrimony was scarcely possible.
Moreover, her father would hardly grant her freedom. Without some extraordinary circumstance, she would likely be forced into marriage at his insistence.
Once Marquis Oellin set his mind to something, he would see it through by any means necessary. The likelihood of her becoming bound to the Black Family was considerable.
Thus, her desire to see them with her own eyes was only natural.
"...My, they truly have come!"
After some time had passed, the very air of the Banquet Hall transformed.
Whispers rippled through the Banquet Hall like an undercurrent, and the leisurely pace of the gathering suddenly accelerated into vibrant energy.
It was truly a novel and fascinating experience—a person who could command the atmosphere simply by appearing.
Like a child drawn by the savory aroma of fresh bread, I found myself turning to gaze upon the source of this transformation without conscious thought.
The moment I spotted him, I understood instantly why the very air had shifted.
'He's magnificent. Magnificent and... beautiful.'
The man was imposingly large and powerfully built, yet simultaneously beautiful, radiating an aristocratic grace.
His gait was flawless and composed, his piercing blue eyes gleamed with quiet intensity, and his sharp, well-defined features were cast in dramatic shadow.
I found myself holding my breath as I gazed upon him, utterly captivated, unable to tear my eyes away.
Was this what the god of war from ancient mythology must have looked like?
I swear, in all my years, I had never encountered a man with shoulders so broad and solid.
Having seen only the rather slight men of my own household, the sight of this sculpted, muscular figure left me feeling almost diminished.
I found myself gazing at him in undisguised admiration.
He was so strikingly handsome that observing him felt like viewing a masterwork of sculpture.
'Who on earth is this man? Could he be a foreign prince?'
Curiosity bloomed within me.
My curiosity was soon satisfied by a group of young noblewomen gathered nearby in conversation.
"My goodness, Duke Lucas Black is absolutely magnificent today. How fortunate you must be to have marriage talks with such a man, Lady Alendia."
My eyes widened in shock.
'Duke Lucas Black? That man is Lucas Black?'
That revelation alone was startling enough, but what followed astonished me even more.
Marriage talks? There were already marriage negotiations underway between Lucas Black and someone else?
Without thinking, I turned to locate the source of the voices. Three beautiful, radiant women immediately caught my eye.
The most striking among them was a woman with fiery crimson hair and emerald eyes.
Standing at the center of the group, she wore a sensual dress with a deeply plunging neckline.
Her appearance was so dazzling and beautiful that even the daring cut of her gown seemed entirely appropriate.
The woman called Alendia spoke with a smile that was neither bashful nor arrogant.
"It's merely talk among the family elders."
"Well, Rosenheim and the Black Family have always been exceptionally close."
"Since my brother and the Duke are so intimate, such rumors naturally arise."
"Indeed, Lord Ryan and Lord Lucas have always been inseparable."
"Exactly! Speaking of Lord Ryan, have you heard that he and Lord Lucas are now called the 'Gatekeepers of Hell'?"
"Is that so? They seem far too kind to deserve such a title. How did such a rumor start?"
The woman called Alendia's eyes widened with interest.
"They say their skill in rooting out and eliminating those who would harm the Crown Prince is positively demonic. Utterly merciless, or so they say."
"Well, Lord Lucas does have a rather fierce appearance on the surface. When I was younger, I was quite frightened of him and cried often."
"Now he simply appears manly and imposing, but when he doesn't smile, he can be rather intimidating."
As I listened to their conversation drifting toward me, I tilted my head in confusion.
The things they were saying felt strangely familiar regarding Lucas Black.
'Marriage talks between families? Could Father have been mistaken?'
As I pondered this bewilderment, I suddenly realized I had been eavesdropping on their conversation.
'How utterly disrespectful.'
Embarrassed, Grace Oellin quickened her pace.
Yet as someone without acquaintances or meaningful connections, she had nowhere to go.
And she absolutely refused to ascend to the second floor where her brother Norman resided.
'I should take some air in the Garden and return.'
She would need to inform Father that the man appeared to already have a fiancée.
Though he was not one to abandon his ambitions easily—he would undoubtedly push Cain Black upon her instead.
As Grace Oellin walked through the Garden, a melancholy settled over her.
This was her marriage, yet she felt swept along by others' circumstances rather than wielding any agency in her own fate.
Was something not terribly wrong with this?
Regardless of how noble marriages bound families together, to lack authority over life's most consequential decision felt profoundly unnatural.
'Yet if I spoke such words aloud, I would be deemed the peculiar one.'
As had been the case throughout her existence.
Despondent, Grace Oellin found herself too weary to continue walking. She settled upon a nearby bench, drawing several measured breaths. The cool air gradually eased the suffocating tightness in her chest.
Then came the moment.
"Aaaaaahhhhh!"
Grace Oellin's eyes snapped wide at the sudden, piercing scream. Her body stiffened involuntarily, seized by terror.
'What—what is happening?'
A scream from within the Royal Palace itself... The omen felt deeply wrong.
She forced her rigid body to move, attempting to flee the spot hastily—had another voice not echoed from nearby.
"How audacious of you to lurk within the Royal Palace, you vermin of Rontia."
The voice was low and crystalline, and had it not carried such a palpable, suffocating killing intent, Grace Oellin might have found it quite pleasant. Yet that voice seized her very thoughts.
Immediately after, a terrified voice erupted in desperate pleading.
"P-please! I beg you! Spare me! Please, I implore you!"
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org