Chapter 25
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Dear, I believe you may be misunderstanding.
Episode 25
Grace Oellin's head snapped up as she surveyed her surroundings.
I had distinctly heard a voice, yet his figure was nowhere to be found.
"Is something the matter, Miss?"
Haem carefully asked Grace, who had suddenly stiffened her posture and begun scanning the area around her.
"It's just...."
Grace hesitated, wondering if she had misheard, and looked around once more.
But no matter how carefully I searched, there was not a shadow of Lucas to be seen.
It didn't seem like I had misheard.... What could it be?
She tilted her head in confusion and asked cautiously.
"Could the General be nearby? It's strange—I keep hearing what sounds like his voice."
Haem asked in surprise.
"What? You're hearing the General's voice?"
"Yes. Isn't it odd? Could I be experiencing auditory hallucinations?"
As Grace tilted her head again in bewilderment, Haem swallowed hard.
The Butler also stiffened, straightening his posture, and the black horse had ceased its trotting, staring at her.
At the sudden silence, Grace laughed awkwardly and spoke.
"But I don't hear it now. I must have misheard. Perhaps it was just the wind?"
"W-what did you say you heard?"
"Ah. That is.... Something like 'fool, don't apologize for poor management,' and 'are you hurt?' I'm not certain if I heard it correctly, as it wasn't entirely clear."
Even as Grace spoke the words aloud, she found the situation truly strange.
The meaning had been too clear to dismiss as wind, yet too sudden and absurd to be anything else.
Haem quickly glanced sideways at the black horse.
The horse's blue eyes were wide open.
Haem was quite startled internally.
From its reaction, it appeared to be genuine.
'So he called me a fool, and expressed concern about whether Miss Grace's hand was injured?'
Haem sighed quietly, running a hand over his face.
It was far too characteristic of Lucas to deny.
Though Haem had served this household since birth, he had never once heard of or witnessed anything like this.
Observing the complex expression crossing Haem's face, Grace also sensed that the situation was unfolding in a peculiar manner.
"...Could the voice I heard earlier truly have been the General's?"
In that moment, a voice flowed into Grace's mind once more.
-...Can you really hear me?
"Oh!"
Grace's head jerked up in surprise, her eyes widening at the voice that was now far more vivid than before.
"It happened again!"
"It happened again...?"
"Y-yes, I heard it again just now. This time I'm absolutely certain it was the General's voice. He asked if I could really hear him."
...Snort.
The black horse whinnied as if excited.
Haem, watching the scene unfold, regarded the Butler with a barely suppressed smile.
The Butler hummed thoughtfully for a moment before speaking quietly.
"In my assessment, it appears something has changed due to that pattern transferring to Grace Oellin. The circumstances have altered."
The circumstances have altered? What circumstances could have changed? And what exactly is this pattern?
I gazed down at the pattern glowing softly on the back of my hand.
Though startled, I felt no pain, so I harbored no sense of threat.
Yet as time passed, the anxiety I had been suppressing only grew stronger.
"Haem, what on earth is this?"
"That is..."
Haem, who had been biting his lower lip, looked down at the whip he held in his other hand.
The ancient script that should have been inscribed here.
He had never once imagined that this ancient script could transfer elsewhere.
It was only natural.
The whip and the Black Family had existed together for approximately seven hundred and fifty years.
Throughout that long history, the family records contained not a single mention of the pattern ever transferring to a person.
Something unimaginable had suddenly occurred.
Why? How could this be?
Haem himself wished to hear answers from someone, so he had little to offer Grace Oellin.
And besides, he was not in a position to speak of such matters.
"I apologize, Grace Oellin. In truth, matters related to this are not something I am at liberty to disclose. I cannot speak of them. I understand this is inconvenient and unsettling, but would you wait for the Marquess?"
Grace Oellin regarded Haem, whose expression was deeply troubled.
After a moment, she nodded with a gentle smile and spoke.
"I understand. I do. But Haem..."
Her voice was as soft as her smile.
Yet the words she spoke carried unwavering resolve.
"Since this suspicious pattern has transferred to my arm, I now believe I have the right to know 'matters related to this.' Above all, it concerns my own person and safety."
"Ah..."
Grace Oellin was an exceptionally delicate woman.
Narrow shoulders that dropped at sharp angles, a thin frame with prominent collarbones, eyes that held a gentle quality and drooped slightly downward.
Everything about her made her appear fragile and frail.
When Haem had heard that her brother Norman had struck her across the face, he had judged her as merely "a weak being in need of protection" or "a delicate woman who would surely shatter at the slightest touch."
That was why, when Lucas spoke of the intensity and determination in her gaze, Haem had scoffed.
No matter how resolute her spirit, he had thought it would differ from true inherent strength.
"Something has happened to my own body—I cannot simply remain ignorant and vacant-minded, lest something terrible occur. Of course, I know the Marquessate would not leave me in such a state. But taking responsibility for my own affairs is another matter entirely."
Yet now, watching Grace smile softly as she asserted her rights with clarity, Haem found himself beginning to understand what Lucas had meant.
"So if there are important facts related to this, or if there are matters I should know to avoid danger, I hope you will share them with me."
That this woman was far from as pliable as she appeared.
"Without fail."
"...Yes, I will keep that in mind."
Haem barely caught himself before addressing her as "madam," quickly closing his mouth.
He had to bite his lower lip hard to suppress his embarrassment.
Why did this blunt mouth of mine insist on moving of its own accord?
"Thank you. It's far too late, so let's save the rest of the story for when the sun rises and it's bright. I'm exhausted, so I'll retire first."
Grace turned with a smile as elegant as her name, and Haem's eyes followed her departing figure.
Unlike the three men bustling about in confusion, that small giant remained composed and unshaken.
It was far too early to call it late.
The three men watched with deeply moved eyes as Grace disappeared into the dim darkness of dawn.
* * *
"Norman is injured! How badly is he hurt!"
Capren Oellin, the Marquess, rushed home as soon as daylight broke.
Upon receiving the Butler's urgent telegram before dawn had even fully broken, he could not even bid farewell to his old friend and had to return to the Capital immediately.
The Marquess's voice rang through the Estate with a deafening boom.
"I've only been away from the Estate for a single day, and something happens in that time? Someone explain everything in detail. Now!"
At the Marquess's sharp command, the Butler who stood before him recounted the events of that early morning.
A massive black horse that appeared suddenly, piercing through the rain.
And how it had rammed directly into Norman after destroying the Estate's pillars so thoroughly.
The horse, having thrown Norman to the ground, paced the area snorting, its fury far from appeased.
That ominous presence was like that of a violent beast, terrifying as an untamed wild animal.
"A black horse that appeared suddenly, you say?"
"Yes, it appeared suddenly at dawn."
"And... why did it ram into Norman?"
"That is... I'm not entirely certain myself."
"This is absurd! Without reason? Suddenly? Bah! As if it were a ghost!"
"The head maid Elia witnessed it as well. When the young master awakens, he will tell you the same thing if you ask him directly. There is not a shred of falsehood in what we say, master."
At the Butler's mention, the head maid Elia recounted in detail what she had witnessed, her eyes cast downward.
It was no different from what the Butler had said.
"How dare it—how dare a mere horse destroy the walls of the Oellin Marquessate and humiliate my heir!"
His long, carefully groomed beard trembled as his lips quivered with rage.
He immediately stamped his foot on the ground with a loud thud and issued orders to the Butler.
"Post a reward. Find that black horse and its master without fail! At once!"
The Marquess ground his teeth as he thought.
That spirit-like horse that appeared suddenly and harmed Norman must surely have an owner.
And that owner must be someone who harbors ill will toward Capren Oellin.
"Master, there is one more thing I must report."
The Butler spoke to his enraged master in a voice more careful and respectful than ever before.
"What is it!"
Capren Oellin, the Marquess, shot back sharply.
Under the Marquess's piercing gaze, the Butler's head bowed even lower.
"It appears that Miss Grace Oellin, who was invited to the Black Family's banquet, injured her leg due to a mistake made by the Duke."
"What?"
The Marquess ground his teeth as if questioning what this had to do with him.
I had already anticipated his dismissive attitude toward such a trivial matter.
The Butler continued calmly with his next words.
"Accordingly, the Black Family has sent word that they will take responsibility and care for the young lady until she fully recovers. They assure you not to worry, as they will provide full support and fulfill their duty."
"Grace Oellin, that foolish girl. She injured her leg while she was there?"
Women were always the problem.
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