Chapter 8
【 Unwanted Advice 】
A moment later, the Grand Duke’s cloak came to rest gently over Kyrie’s bare body.
“…What is this…?”
Kyrie barely managed to speak when the Grand Duke pressed a finger against the center of her brow, as if brushing it.
In that brief instant when she froze from the touch and rolled her eyes to look at him….
“So you do know how to frown.”
The moment those words fell, a fragrance flooded the space again.
Whether it was the scent of the plane trees carried in from outside or the faint smell of gunpowder clinging to the man’s cloak now draped over her, it was hard to tell.
Scents of every shade and hue struck her head like a blow.
Before the dizziness could completely take hold of her, Kyrie swiftly pushed away the Grand Duke’s hand and bolted from the room.
As she fled, a disquieting sensation crept over her, as though at any moment, a large, hot hand would seize her from behind, snatch her up, and pin her down.
But nothing happened.
Kyrie ran down the empty hallway barefoot.
“So you do know how to frown.”
‘Ah’
As she replayed the Grand Duke’s words in her head, she realized that from the very moment they had met… she hadn’t once worn the smile she so habitually kept upon her lips.
‘How…’
Her heart pounded violently, and she could hardly bear it.
That smile was her weapon.
And yet, in front of a man like him, a soldier, no less, who could subdue others without the slightest hesitation, she had gone defenseless.
That fact alone kept driving her to run.
Left alone in the room, Dominique could still catch a faint trace of peppermint lingering in the air.
Mingled with the scent of gunpowder that clung to him.
A single strand of her hair, light as a bird’s feather, remained stuck to his forearm.
The smile on his lips deepened.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Kyrie couldn’t even remember how she made it back to the ducal manor. Fortunately, she hadn’t crossed paths with anyone on the way.
After trailing Lexian for so long, she’d memorized every hidden passage and forgotten corridor of the imperial palace.
Besides, everyone’s attention was fixed on the banquet, and the streets lay silent, devoid of passersby.
It wasn’t until she stood before the manor gates that Kyrie noticed the Grand Duke’s cloak still clinging to her.
With a shudder of revulsion, she cast it aside, stormed into her room, and fell asleep.
‘Ah’
It was only the next morning that Kyrie realized she’d left her dress behind in the Crown Prince’s bedchamber.
The finest dress she owned, chosen after much deliberation within the limits of her meager allowance for appearances.
The one she had wrested from an unwilling designer by coaxing with her trademark dazzling smile.
I should have grabbed it.
But what was done was done.
Instead of waking shamelessly in the Crown Prince’s warm, opulent bed as planned, she had risen in her own cold, hard one.
Kyrie splashed cold water over her face, scrubbing at her brow until it turned red.
“……”
The scent of gunpowder still clung to her skin, the one he had pressed upon her the night before.
‘I threw out the cloak…’
Yet her body reacted, her skin prickling at the memory.
The Grand Duke’s arm slicing through the air above her chest.
The way he had gazed at her under the moonlight, slow and deliberate, as if surveying her body.
‘A face entirely impervious to seduction.’
When those glass-like eyes looked upon her, it always sparked an unsettling feeling.
‘A strange man.’
The thought of seeing him again was somehow repellent.
She resolved to visit the palace only when she was sure the Grand Duke wouldn’t be present.
As she made up her mind and reached to fasten her familiar necklace, she froze.
Damn.
Kyrie bit her lip hard. The dress itself wasn’t the issue.
It was the pendant.
The one that had once belonged to her mother, the one she fiddled with every morning.
It was in the hidden pocket of the dress she’d left behind.
Fearing she might lose it in the middle of her dealings with Lexian, she had deliberately tucked it there instead of wearing it.
Anxiety swiftly crept into her heart.
Her resentment toward the Grand Duke deepened.
‘Of all times…’
What gnawed at her more was the worry that one of the palace attendants might discover her belongings and throw them out, or worse, sell them.
She could recall the servants and maids who, upon being prohibited from pilfering what little allowance she had left, had once dared to lay their hands on her jewels.
The day she’d caught them in the act, she had slapped their faces until her own wrist ached, earning herself yet another rumor as a madwoman who abused the innocent.
It was impossible to believe the palace servants would be any better.
If anything, it was more likely there.
The Emperor was notoriously stingy with his servants’ wages.
‘I need to get it back quickly.’
Of all things, she could not bear to lose that pendant.
Even if the Grand Duke was still there, it didn’t matter.
The moment she stepped out into the hallway, her gaze met someone’s, someone who was just entering, greeted by the servants.
“……”
The woman who regarded her coldly, with a gaze full of disdain, quickly softened her expression into a serene one as she approached.
“Good day, Lady Erenburg.”
A middle-aged woman dressed in a neat nun’s habit.
“I am the Abbess of Flaubert Convent.”
Kyrie unconsciously tightened her fist.
The reason her heart leapt into her throat wasn’t fear, but the last shred of reason holding her back.
‘If they’d intended to drag her away today…’
Whenever faced with a situation she didn’t want, Kyrie had fought with every ounce of strength, raising a riot if necessary.
The manor’s people likely remembered well the image of Kyrie Ernburg, bloodied but defiant, clutching her pendant necklace while screaming curses.
If they meant to seize her now, surely they would have brought along convent workers or the manor’s laborers to subdue her.
But the Abbess stood alone.
Only belatedly did a few maids approach, hovering anxiously, but it seemed they were there more to escort the Mother Abbess than to restrain Kyrie.
“This way, Mother Abbess…”
“He awaits you in the drawing room.”
Who else could “he” be?
No one aside from the Duke of Erenburg himself could dare summon the renowned Abbess of Flaubert.
And yet, none of the servants hurried her along.
On the contrary, there was a flicker of vile amusement on their faces.
As though wondering what spectacle this mad dog would make of herself this time, what fresh scandal they might gossip over, or whether she’d be confined again.
Some worried looks passed between them as well, perhaps fearing what might happen if she raised a fuss they couldn’t contain.
Their emotions were practically palpable.
The Abbess’s smile also deepened.
‘Somehow… familiar.’
In that moment, Kyrie realized this too was yet another attempt to break her spirit.
Her heart, frozen by fear, began to beat again.
The terror gradually withdrew, and defiance took its place.
You had better hope.
Hoping I’ll tremble and plead.
That I’ll beg not to be sent away to the convent.
Rather than fulfill their expectations, Kyrie loosened her fist, smiled radiantly, and stepped forward.
The kind of smile that always made people flinch.
“……”
Even the Abbess’s lips twitched slightly at the sight of it before she forced her mouth into a semblance of a smile.
The moment Kyrie strode out, unyielding, the air around them curdled with hostility.
An atmosphere far too familiar to her.
The Abbess spoke, as though she had no intention of retreating.
“As expected… the Ernburg young lady are every bit as infamous as the rumors suggest.”
Kyrie already knew what kind of reputation the Abbess meant.
And what words would follow.
No doubt, a string of insults veiled as compliments. Never spoken outright, of course…
“Mad dog”
Why it was the Grand Duke’s words that surfaced at that precise moment, she could not say.
The only man who had ever dared to call her that to her face.
And yet, in a tone curiously devoid of contempt.
Which somehow made it all the more insulting.
She could almost smell the gunpowder mingling with the plane trees again, feel the searing heat of him against her.
‘Enough’
Her own voice rang sharply through her mind like a warning.
Just then, a man’s voice came from behind.
“Mother Abbess.”
It was Veron’s calm, even tone.
