"Miss Juliet, you look remarkably calm, even in this situation," Jude said, studying her with undisguised surprise.
For Juliet, the question itself seemed far more surprising—especially when spoken with such composure in the damp basement of the Marquis's castle.
"Aren't you afraid?" He tilted his head. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry."
"But Sir Milan promised we'd get out of here," she replied evenly. "Didn't he?"
The knight in question—Milan, one of the duchy's most trusted men—turned to look at them.
"Of course, Miss Juliet. I promise you will return safely." He nodded with solemn conviction.
"I believe you."
Juliet smiled softly and released a few more glowing butterflies into the air.
She didn't mention that they had resorted to using her spirits merely to light their way.
The butterflies, clearly displeased at being reduced to lanterns, flickered nervously—their glow pulsing and unsteady.
Still, the basement filled with bright, almost daylight illumination.
They had already spent several hours trapped in this dungeon.
*Trouble always finds us,* Juliet thought with weary resignation.
In truth, they should have escaped during the day.
If one of the Marquis of Guinness's men hadn't detonated something resembling a crude bomb, they would have left the castle without incident.
The explosion had been minor—but sufficient to seal the entrance to the basement beneath a collapse of stone and rubble.
The castle's dungeon, like most ancient fortifications, was a labyrinthine maze. Theoretically, there should be an escape route somewhere within its depths. But in such darkness, finding it was nearly impossible.
"Don't worry. We'll definitely find a way out," Milan promised confidently, and he and his men set off to search the corridors.
As soon as he was out of sight, Jude leaned toward Juliet with a mischievous expression.
"But honestly... who knows when this old castle might start to crumble?"
"Castles like these were built with care," Juliet remarked quietly. "Older means stronger. It won't simply collapse."
Jude studied her without taking his eyes from her face. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
"What?"
"I was just thinking... sometimes you speak as though you were the ruler yourself."
"I?"
"Yes. The other knights and I have served the lords far longer than you, but we don't carry ourselves like that."
*I see,* Juliet thought.
However, she had another reason for her composure—one she could never share.
She remembered the day she died.
It had been a clear summer day. Not a cloud in the sky.
*So it's definitely not today.*
Perhaps she would die in six months. But for some reason, she was certain it would not happen here. Not now.
Juliet yawned.
"Tired?"
"No."
"Close your eyes for a little while, at least."
Milan approached and handed her a blanket. He had carefully dusted it off; it was perfectly acceptable.
"I'm fine."
"You haven't slept in two days."
*He was right. The interrogations on suspicion of the Duke's murder had exhausted her to her limit.*
"We'll wake you if we find a way out."
Juliet felt uneasy letting others work while she rested, but refusing a second time would have been foolish.
She chose a relatively level spot near the wall, wrapped herself in the blanket, and closed her eyes.
She didn't expect to actually sleep while the knights searched for an exit—but the moment she relaxed, exhaustion claimed her instantly.
---
## — The Vision —
"Finally, silence."
"I gave her a sedative."
After a while, she heard muffled voices outside the door.
"Report to me as soon as you return."
"But—"
"If she can't speak, give her the medicine. Understood?"
A chill ran down her spine. The man's voice was commanding. Merciless.
Soon the sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance.
After waiting for everything to fall silent, the woman who had been pretending to sleep sat up abruptly.
*I have to run.*
The thought pounded in her head like the only path to salvation.
She fled the room, climbed the stairs to her bedroom, snatched a small bag, and hurried down.
*Foolish Juliet Montague...* she thought, as though watching all of this from outside herself.
She clearly remembered being in the castle basement with the duchy's knights only moments ago. What was this? A vision? A memory? Someone else's life?
When she opened her eyes, she was already *here*.
The fluttering butterflies had not flown away—but they did not stay close, either.
"What do you want?" Juliet demanded sharply. "Why are you showing me this *now*?"
She knew that every time she lost consciousness, the butterflies came to her aid.
Seven years ago, when she was captured by bandits hired by Baron Gaspard. More recently, in the snowy forest when she had encountered wolves.
But this time was different.
Now Juliet was trapped in a basement with the duchy's knights. She feared the butterflies, in their attempt to save her, might accidentally kill them too.
**(No. That is not the point.)**
**(Contractor. You have it.)**
**(The Key. Open the door.)**
The butterflies spoke in a hurried rush, as though making excuses.
**(You can open it. We cannot. Only a contractor can.)**
**(Only she.)**
**(Need... price.)**
They seemed embarrassed by her anger.
But Juliet found their desperation oddly pathetic.
**(The contractor must see.)**
**(Condition: The door will open.)**
**(Bad memory. The price for it.)**
The creatures tried to explain themselves in simple, confused fragments. Juliet bit her lip until she tasted blood.
She didn't understand what this "door" meant.
*What do memories and their price have to do with anything?*
But, as before, the desire to wake was not enough.
"Fine," she whispered.
Just as in the snowy forest, a colossal door materialized before her.
And through the narrow crack—barely ajar—she saw her own face.
Naive. Pitiful.
Tangled hair. Tears. Desperate pleas.
The longer Juliet looked at her former self, the more she wanted to turn away.
"Foolish girl," she murmured.
---
## — The Escape That Failed —
Back then, she had tried to flee while the Duke was away.
She knew Lennox Carlisle would never release a woman in whose veins his blood now flowed.
The servants in the castle had been whispering for weeks: *The master has finally found the one he's been searching for all these years.*
A mysterious girl—known only by name—now lived in the eastern tower, where the ducal family's most precious treasures were kept.
Soldiers guarded her day and night. Reaching her was nearly impossible.
But foolish Juliet Montague had wanted to see everything with her own eyes. Every day she wandered the gardens, hoping to catch even a glimpse of that woman.
*What would it have changed?*
When she finally made out the silhouettes of a man and a woman in the tower window, Juliet had already reached her breaking point.
She decided then: she would leave on her own.
But before she could escape, she was caught—along with the little treasures she had hidden in a secret drawer.
Children's shoes. Tiny clothes. All of it seemed pitiful, useless—but to her, they were priceless.
**(Did you think if you stayed silent, they wouldn't find out?)**
**(I... I didn't mean to deceive anyone!)**
**(Then why did you hide all of this?)**
When he discovered she had kept the child, his fury was absolute.
And in that moment—looking into a face she had never seen before—Juliet understood that all her hopes were worthless.
She begged him, though she didn't know why.
*I don't need anything. I won't tell anyone. Just... let me go.*
*You simply want to leave?*
*I'll live far away. As if I don't exist.*
*Nonsense.*
No matter how much she pleaded, it only deepened his rage.
*Even if you die—die here.*
Only later did she overhear the conversation between him and the doctor.
He didn't merely *not want* a child. He hadn't believed it was *possible* from the start.
*I'm telling you—it's impossible.*
*To be honest... this is a rare accident. A mistake.*
*Then fix it.*
*But—*
*I don't care. At least save the woman.*
For him, it had been a glitch in a perfect plan.
For her, the child was the only living thing in this world that was truly *hers*.
If she left, she would be utterly alone.
*I don't want to be alone...*
So she had attempted a reckless escape.
*I will help you.*
Chance. Luck. Unexpected aid.
She stole a horse from the Duke's estate and fled into the night.
The only thing she truly knew how to do was ride.
But she didn't make it far.
She was caught before she even left the northern forest—and dragged back.
Having fled so boldly, she grew terrified. She fell from the horse. And then...
---
## — The Price —
**(The devil forgets nothing.)**
**(We are not like you miserable mortals.)**
Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she heard the butterflies whispering again.
Juliet raised her head.
In truth, this dream was not new.
She had grown accustomed to it—like an inevitable wound that never fully healed.
"So what?" she asked, her voice flat.
**(We cannot say.)**
**(That is how it works.)**
The butterflies seemed almost... *pleased*.
*Did they enjoy watching her suffer?*
*Was the contractor's pain their sustenance?*
**(But we can show.)**
**(We waited... for a very long time.)**
Juliet didn't even want to ask what they meant.
"I don't want to see this," she said firmly, turning away. "That's enough."
At that very moment, Juliet opened her eyes.
---