Chapter 8
The sunlight in the Second Knights Division’s quarters was notably different. It was a stark contrast to the perpetually dim northern outer palace. Even Adi’s room, which faced east and received morning sun directly, was incomparable. Though this room also faced north, the spacious courtyard allowed plenty of light to flood in.
The satin curtains billowed through the open window. As Adi gazed outside while polishing her sword, she suddenly sensed something unusual and shifted her gaze back into the room. Searching for what had changed, her eyes fell upon a letter on the floor.
Adi set her sword on the bed and stood up.
The letter, seemingly slipped under the door, bore a wax seal with the family crest. Adi opened it. The elegant handwriting contained nothing of real importance.
Sitting at the desk with the letter, Adi lit a candle and held the reverse side of the paper close to the flame. Careful not to burn it entirely, she flipped the paper over when she deemed it ready. There, the Count’s orders were revealed:
[Letter confirmed. Get close to Julius Woodpecker. Report on those who approach him.]
Suddenly? With Woodpecker? The content was strange. Adi burned the paper in the candle flame.
“…”
Watching the paper burn, Adi pondered what Spencer Grimaldi could be thinking. As he never shared his thoughts with others, Adi could neither understand nor guess his intentions.
* * *
At 9 AM, Adi headed to the reception room of Yuls Woodpecker’s residence for the shift change.
Usually, a weary-looking Bert would be there, complaining about shoulder pain and calling it elder abuse, wishing someone would massage his shoulders. But today, he stood properly dressed in his formal uniform.
He had neatly trimmed his beard, which he usually shaved carelessly, and his typically hunched posture was now straight. He truly looked like a knight of Palesa Palace’s Second Division.
Though aged, his experience compensated for any physical decline, making him a formidable opponent. Suppressing a rising sense of competitiveness, Adi approached Bert.
“Isn’t it time for you to sleep?”
“I’ll go after we receive the guest.”
“Today’s guest is demanding,” Bert added, and the servant beside him nodded. It was the same servant who had first approached Adi. Judging by Duke Woodpecker’s grim expression, the guest must be of high status, perhaps even royalty.
Tension filled the reception room. Adi stood at attention next to Bert. Soon, there was a knock. A servant outside announced, “The Marchioness of Connolly has arrived.”
A Marchioness. Certainly difficult to refuse.
The door opened, and the Marchioness entered. Her curled red hair was pinned up and adorned with feathers, and she wore attire slightly less formal than full dress. Holding a fan and accompanied by servants carrying boxes, she exclaimed joyfully upon seeing Duke Woodpecker.
“Cat!”
…Cat?
As she entered, Marchioness Connolly glanced sideways. Noticing Bert, she placed her hand on his forearm. “Sir,” she said, then turned to Adi, opening her fan. Covering her nose and mouth, she smiled with her eyes and said, “I see a pretty one has joined.”
Pretty one?
Adi felt a chill run down her spine. Unable to react, she froze her expression. The Marchioness giggled and approached Duke Woodpecker with slow steps, her maids following behind.
Adi looked at Bert, her gaze asking, “What’s with this woman calling me pretty?” But Bert couldn’t offer any explanation. He just gave an awkward smile, seeming to hope the situation would end soon.
So even that man has things he dislikes, Adi thought. While she disliked being called pretty, she somehow felt more favorable towards her because Bert seemed uncomfortable.
“Cat, you’re still so lovely,” she said.
By the way, Cat? Where did this cat suddenly come from?
The terms used to address Duke Woodpecker were “Duke” or “Woodpecker King.” Since they couldn’t use the title “King” in Palesa Palace, he was simply called Duke. Bert affectionately called him Yuls. It made sense since Julius was too long.
But Cat… Adi tried to recall the Duke’s full name. He remembered it clearly for the first two days, but now he couldn’t recall the middle name. Julius Woodpecker. Julius Ca— Woodpecker.
Casius? Caspar? Was it Caspras?
In any case, extracting “Cat” from that seemed too cute and undignified for addressing a Duke. Simply in terms of suitability.
The Duke did have a pretty and aloof appearance.
Still, who would dare call a Duke “Cat”? Even if she was a Marchioness—
“Aunt,” the Duke said.
If it’s family, there’s nothing to be said, Adi thought.
“It’s been a while.”
“It’s been a year, hasn’t it? You’ve been here but didn’t come to greet me.”
“Since you’re in the palace, I thought it wouldn’t be difficult to meet.”
“The Duke is always so busy, it’s hard to meet even when you’re in the palace. That’s why I had to come like this.”
Marchioness Connolly spoke as she stood across from the Duke. A maid beside her extended her hand. The Marchioness grasped it and plopped down into a seat, handing her fan to a servant. The maid began fanning her.
“So, have you thought about the proposal I made?” the Marchioness asked.
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t give you a definite answer yet.”
As he said this, Duke Woodpecker glanced briefly at Bert and Adi. Adi couldn’t read anything from that look, but Bert seemed to understand the Duke’s intention.
Bert gestured for Adi to follow him and opened the door. That’s when Adi realized they shouldn’t be hearing this conversation. She followed Bert. The voices fading behind the closing door became indistinct.
Marchioness Connolly. The Marchioness of Connolly.
Had Count Grimaldi known this situation would occur?
Adi, maintaining a neutral expression, asked Bert, “Is this break time?” Bert shrugged.
“How long should we stay out?”
“Well, based on the usual pattern, a couple of hours should do.”
Adi nodded at Bert’s words.
“Then I’ll take a rest.”
Bert saw Adi off. As he watched Adi disappear down the corridor, he noticed servants approaching from afar. They were carrying armfuls of gifts. Some were genuine presents, while others merely looked like gifts on the outside. The insides were probably filled with documents.
Bert opened the door for the line of incoming servants, glanced once more at the corridor where Adi had vanished, and then entered the reception room.
The gifts placed by the servants filled an entire wall of the reception room. It was the servants’ job to explain where each gift came from, who sent it, and through what channels it was delivered.
Marchioness Connolly gestured this way and that to the maid fanning her, picking up a pastry in front of her. She bit into half of it, and it crumbled crisply. Seeming uninterested in the rest, she set it back on the plate and said,
“Sir Bert Dean, please sit comfortably.”
“I prefer this position,” Bert replied, not moving from his spot by the door.
“As you wish, then.”
With those words, the Marchioness waved her hand, dismissing the servants. After all the servants had left and Bert closed the door, he stood in the center of the doorway. This was to detect any signs of someone else approaching from outside.
The Marchioness glanced at Bert guarding the door, then reclined on the sofa and said,
“So.”
The words that followed were always the same.
“How long do you intend to continue like this, Duke?”
It seemed they had been having this conversation for ten years.
“I’m not unaware of your intentions, Aunt.”
Yuls’ response was always the same too.
“I can understand why you’ve done nothing until now. You needed a foundation. But Duke, it’s been well over ten years. What about our agreement?”
“I intend to fulfill the promise.”
“It seems your concept of time is different from mine, perhaps because you’re outside the flow of time, Duke.”
Time is given equally to everyone. Even Yuls, though outwardly unchanged due to the curse, still feels the passage of time.
“I don’t have much time left, Cat.”
“Neither do I, Aunt.”
In fact, because he doesn’t grow, he perceives others’ changes more objectively.
“Why do you think I come and stay in this disgusting Palesa every time?” Yuls said.
It wasn’t a question. Just a reminder.
“Our goals are the same, Aunt, and that hasn’t changed. I don’t understand why you’re rushing like this.”
“Duke, can you sleep peacefully watching their smiling faces as if nothing’s wrong?”
Sleep came easily. Because he was tired. When his mind was in chaos from countless thoughts and considerations, he would fall into a deep sleep as if trying to forget everything.
Rather, as if the act of sleeping proved his rest, Yuls slept very well. Unlike Marchioness Connolly, who seemed to tremble only when going to sleep, considering her past actions and future possibilities after being comfortable all day.
“I want to see them filled with despair and crying.”
“It will happen,” Yuls said.
“We must make it happen.”
He would want to see that even more than Marchioness Connolly.
“But that’s not my priority.”
Marchioness Connolly stretched her mouth horizontally and then jutted it out. Her maid looked troubled at this display of displeasure.
“I’ve told you clearly,” Yuls continued.
But he had no intention of stopping what he wanted to say out of consideration for her or the maid.
“I can only move once I reclaim what’s mine.”
