Jude stopped abruptly, his head snapping toward the source of the noise.
"...What should we do, Miss Juliet?"
His eyes gleamed with curiosity as he spoke.
Juliet hesitated—but before she could answer, Jude was already pulling her along, heading toward the back palace where the scream had originated.
Of course, they were still within the imperial palace grounds. Neither of them expected to encounter anything truly dangerous.
"Help me! Someone, please!"
Juliet, tugged along by her overly enthusiastic escort knight, stumbled into the palace's rear courtyard.
The sight before her was... somewhat absurd.
It was a scene so clichéd it could have been lifted straight from a cheap stage play.
A graceful young lady was surrounded by several men who looked distinctly unpleasant. They had seized her by the wrists, leering as she struggled.
*But this is the imperial palace?*
Something about this felt deeply suspicious.
"Are you all right, my lady?"
Before Juliet could steady herself, her ever-polite escort knight had already stepped forward.
Jude made quick work of the bullies harassing the fragile young woman. A few sharp strikes, a flash of knightly authority, and the men scattered like leaves.
"Ugh!"
"We didn't mean anything by it!"
The frightened young lady was rescued. The men who had been tormenting her uttered a few more clichéd lines before fleeing. The entire performance was so theatrical that Juliet almost felt the urge to applaud.
"Thank you... How can I ever repay your kindness...?"
"Are you all right?"
However, when the tearful young lady raised her face, Juliet froze.
"Dolores?"
She was the new wife of the Marquis of Guinness—the same woman Juliet had seen in the South just a few days prior.
"Ah!"
Dolores seemed to recognize Juliet as well.
"Oh, hello, my lady," she said, her voice soft and hesitant.
"Yes."
Juliet studied Dolores carefully. On the surface, she appeared fragile and guileless—delicate as porcelain, innocent as a spring lamb.
*Too innocent.*
"Is she your friend?" Jude asked.
"We met in the South."
"Yes, that's right!" Dolores brightened, looking genuinely pleased. "I didn't think you'd remember me."
She spoke shyly, her cheeks coloring faintly.
"What are you doing here?" Juliet asked, keeping her tone polite but measured.
"Ah... I wanted to deliver a wedding gift to Her Highness the Crown Princess."
Dolores held up a small, elegantly wrapped box.
Only then did Juliet understand the meaning behind the Marquis of Guinness's parting words in the South: *"We'll see each other again in the capital."*
Of course. A figure as prominent as the Marquis of Guinness would naturally attend the Crown Prince's wedding.
"But they told me that commoners cannot enter the Crown Princess's salon," Dolores continued, her voice dropping with disappointment.
"So you had a run-in with those men?"
"Yes. When they realized I wasn't nobility, they tried to... drag me away."
"I see."
Jude shot Juliet a meaningful look, one eyebrow raised. She pretended not to notice.
"Perhaps, Miss Juliet..." Dolores hesitated, then held out the box. "Could you please deliver this gift to the Crown Princess on my behalf?"
Juliet looked at the box.
Then she smiled—wide and bright.
"No."
"Ah... why not?"
"A gift must be presented in person to be meaningful," Juliet replied smoothly. "Instead, I'll speak to the palace maids so you can enter the salon yourself."
It was a kind offer—one Dolores could not possibly refuse.
She had no choice but to nod in agreement.
---
As soon as Dolores departed, Jude turned to Juliet with barely suppressed amusement.
"You recognized those terrible actors, didn't you?"
Juliet smirked.
"Yes. They were under the direction of the Marquis of Guinness."
The men who had supposedly been harassing Dolores were lower-ranking nobles loyal to the Marquis.
"So why did you pretend not to know?"
"Keep your friends close," Juliet said lightly, "and your enemies closer."
She remembered the fury in the Marquis of Guinness's eyes when they had parted in the South.
"He must have a reason for using such unconvincing actors."
In truth, Juliet wasn't particularly interested in *why* the Marquis of Guinness had sent the rather transparent Dolores to intercept her.
*Ask her to deliver a gift to the Crown Princess?*
The scheme was obvious. If Juliet had accepted the box, she would have been the one handling it when something inevitably went wrong. The blame would fall squarely on her shoulders.
But Juliet had no intention of falling for such a shallow ruse.
She also had no interest in the Marquis's petty machinations.
"Frankly," she said, her smile sharpening, "I have something I need to discuss with the Marquis of Guinness."
Jude raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"The Marquis will soon learn an important lesson," Juliet said softly. "When you spy on someone... you risk revealing your own secrets."
---
## — The Spiritual Entity —
A few days later, late in the evening, a strange event occurred in the quiet bedroom of the ducal residence.
A figure that had been lurking in the shadows suddenly darted forward.
It was a translucent, dark silhouette—as though a person's shadow had been shrunk down and given semi-solid form.
This creature, born of black magic, possessed rudimentary limbs and could perceive basic situations. It moved with eerie, unnatural fluidity.
It was a **spiritual entity** sent by Archbishop Solon.
The small dark creature glanced around the room, quickly locating its target.
It surged forward, intent on reaching the bed—
***—?***
Something appeared above it.
A pair of **pumpkin-yellow eyes** stared down at the entity with unblinking intensity.
*This was impossible.*
The spiritual essence was forged from malevolent divine power. For any ordinary creature, even *touching* it should have been impossible.
Yet the being that had descended upon it—silent as a stalking cat, sudden as a pouncing predator—had eyes that glittered like gemstones even in the darkness.
*A cat?*
No... a lizard?
Whatever it was, it didn't matter. A spiritual entity created using forbidden divine power could defend itself to some extent.
***Spark!***
***Crack!***
Sparks ignited as the entity lashed out defensively.
"Pip?"
But the tiny creature—instead of recoiling in fear—leapt forward eagerly, as though this were a familiar game.
It assumed a perfect hunting crouch.
A moment later, the young dragon's jaws snapped shut.
***Crunch.***
---
## — An Unlikely Alliance —
Onyx trotted excitedly out into the corridor, something strange wriggling in his mouth.
"...?"
However, the young dragon froze when he met the gaze of the man sitting calmly in a chair at the far end of the hall.
This was the very spot where the man had been cleaning up Onyx's *spoils* for the past several nights.
"...Hm."
Startled, the young dragon almost swallowed what was in his mouth.
Onyx thought desperately with his tiny brain, staring at the man he wasn't particularly fond of.
The man held a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. He regarded Onyx with cool, dispassionate eyes.
And yet—quite suddenly—he called the dragon in a gentle voice.
"Come here."
"Pip..."
The wary young dragon approached slowly, each step hesitant.
Then he noticed that the man wasn't merely holding a glass of liquor.
In his other hand was a tempting, perfectly ripe apple.
The decision was instantaneous.
Onyx scrambled onto the table, deposited what was in his mouth, and bit eagerly into the red fruit.
***Clang.***
At the same moment the young dragon set down his prey, the man's hand moved—swift and precise. He knocked over the glass, trapping the small dark shadow beneath it.
After observing the creature writhing inside the glass for a long moment, the man tossed Onyx another apple.
"You do some pretty interesting things," Lennox murmured.
"Pip!"
---
## — Morning After —
The next day, as Juliet descended the stairs, she witnessed an unusual sight.
In the reception hall, a small black dragon lay contentedly at Lennox's feet, purring with satisfaction.
*That's strange. These two shouldn't be on such good terms.*
Juliet met Lennox's gaze, her expression puzzled.
"Your Grace."
"I heard you summoned a jeweler," Lennox said.
"Yes. I commissioned something from the master craftsman."
Lennox didn't ask what she had ordered.
However, his gaze lingered on Juliet's back as she descended the staircase.
Specifically, his attention was drawn to her bare, pale nape—the delicate curve of her neck exposed above her gown.
Last night, he had been tormented once again by the dream of an unidentified woman.
In the nightmare, she had possessed a pitiful, fragile frame—her back small and slender. And it had been covered in scars, as though she had been savagely beaten.
The memory of that ravaged skin haunted him.
Lennox opened the window and breathed in the cold night air, hoping to clear his mind.
Thanks to his insomnia, he had been awake to witness the amusing spectacle of a young dragon rolling across the soft carpet, hunting shadows in the dark.
But the image of the woman's scarred back refused to fade.
And he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that somehow—*impossibly*—he knew exactly who she was.
---