"You found it!"
The evening when Lennox and the Duke's knights retrieved the family heirloom from the South, the news first reached Juliet at the mansion of Count Montague—where she had temporarily relocated from the ducal residence.
All because mysterious relatives on her mother's side had suddenly appeared in the capital.
"Thank the gods."
"Yes, they're heading back to the capital immediately," Elliot said with a cheerful smile, clutching a short, folded piece of paper—a letter just delivered by courier.
*The Duke's faithful secretary had personally rushed to the Count's mansion to deliver the good news as swiftly as possible.*
"We must notify the Duke's northern residence at once!" he exclaimed.
*And no wonder. The relic, lost more than twenty years ago, had finally returned home.*
"Elliot..." Juliet began, but the enthusiasm he radiated found no echo in her.
She hesitated.
"Is that all? No other news?"
"Pardon?"
"I mean..." Juliet wanted to ask about Dahlia.
*She had been certain Dahlia was behind the Marquis of Guinness—that the tiara would be in her possession. It had seemed obvious: if the tiara had been found, then Dahlia must have been found as well.*
"Was there no mention of a woman? Of finding someone?"
"A woman?" Elliot glanced at the letter in confusion, scanning it again quickly. "No. Not a word about new companions or detainees."
"I see..." Juliet's gaze dropped slightly.
*After all, Dahlia is human. She couldn't have been hiding in that secret room all this time. Even if she truly was an accomplice—or instigator—of the Marquis's schemes, it would be logical to assume she fled the moment his estate fell.*
"Miss..."
"Yes?"
"Are you... planning to remain in the Count's mansion much longer?" Elliot asked quietly.
Juliet blinked in surprise.
*Why this sudden question?*
"Because my grandfather and uncles are also in the capital now," she answered softly, her tone measured.
"You, as a niece and granddaughter, probably don't feel comfortable staying in your... former companion's house?" Elliot suggested delicately.
And then it dawned on Juliet: the secretary's concern wasn't for *her*—it was for her relatives.
"I see..." Elliot nodded, looking dejected. "You're right."
From the far end of the hall, her legendary grandfather approached slowly.
"Greetings, sir," Elliot said politely, bowing his head.
"These Carlisles are always underfoot..." Lionel Lebatan muttered with unmistakable displeasure, casting a cold glance at Elliot.
"Ha-ha, sir—I am not a Carlisle, merely the Duke's secretary."
"Secretary, subordinate—what difference does it make? You're all part of his inner circle. So don't linger here in someone else's house."
"But... our Duke is a hardworking and honorable man..."
"Shh!"
All of Juliet's relatives, starting with Lionel Lebatan, openly disliked Lennox Carlisle. Anyone with even the slightest connection to him was met with suspicion and hostility.
*This never happened with Roy,* Juliet mused. *Apparently, the family harbors a special prejudice against Lennox.*
"Grandfather," Juliet said, smiling broadly to rescue the flustered Elliot. She turned to Lionel. "Let's visit Mother together."
---
## — At the Grave —
The cemetery was silent and deserted.
"Hello, Mother. I came with Grandfather today."
Juliet stopped before a modest but meticulously maintained headstone and smiled softly.
"Here." She gestured toward the spot where Lionel Lebatan stood. He silently withdrew a bouquet from his coat—white lilies and blue asters, rare for this time of year.
He coughed lightly.
"Lily loved these flowers."
"I know." Juliet smiled again.
Two similar souls—yet so different—gazed silently at the grave.
"So it was the Marquis of Guinness responsible for Lillian's death?"
"Yes. Everything is exactly as I wrote in the letter."
Not long ago, immediately after the Marquis's capture, Juliet had sent word to the East. Upon receiving it, Lionel had departed the island at once.
She had told him everything: about the curse the Marquis had attempted to cast, and about Baron Gaspard, whom he had hired to steal the key.
"That's when I understood it all," Juliet said quietly as the evening sun sank toward the horizon.
"It's hard to believe," Lionel sighed, reserved as always.
"Is this key truly that important?"
"I'm not certain," Juliet admitted, guilt threading through her voice. She toyed absently with the thin chain around her neck, the silver key glinting faintly. "But perhaps he was pursued because of the spirit—or demon—it could summon."
"You're speaking of the butterflies?"
"I know... it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"
"Does this have anything to do with what the archmages are currently researching?"
"You already know..." Juliet sighed heavily. "Yes. I asked Ethelid to look into it."
*There's little information yet. All he's learned is that the butterflies are indeed close in nature to demons.*
"Grandfather..."
"Hm?"
"Do you believe in demons?"
"Of course. Everyone in the East believes."
His answer came without hesitation.
"I've heard so many stories about cursed treasures I couldn't begin to count them. It's impossible to tell which are true and which are fiction."
Lionel Lebatan's eyes gleamed with a peculiar light.
"I confess—I've never encountered such things myself. But here in the East, we say: demons fear nothing more than their names becoming known."
"Their names?"
Juliet's thoughts sharpened. Something vague drifted through her mind.
*Snowdrop is the only artifact whose name is known...*
She had heard that phrase more than once.
"They also say you can only trap a demon if you possess two things: pride and lies."
"Pride... and lies?" Juliet looked up sharply.
"Yes. According to ancient legend, demons are creatures of immense pride. But at the same time..." He paused meaningfully. "They cannot lie."
Hearing this ancient wisdom, Juliet's attention snapped into focus. Lionel Lebatan, seeing her genuine interest, chuckled warmly.
"I don't know if these old tales will help you."
"But they're fascinating."
Juliet smiled with real warmth.
In truth, she had hesitated for a long time before telling him everything.
*The truth was too terrible. Because of a single key, the innocent Count and Countess of Montague had died horribly. She had feared that revealing the true culprit—the Marquis of Guinness—would deepen her grandfather's grief, already raw from the loss of his daughter.*
"But I thought you should know."
"Why?"
"Because I'm like you. And if I were you, I would want to know too."
"You did the right thing."
He narrowed his eyes shrewdly.
"So you stayed with that duke... because of the cursed key?"
Juliet was slightly taken aback.
"You knew?"
"It would be strange if I didn't."
It was the first time Lionel Lebatan had mentioned the Duke of Carlisle aloud, and his voice emerged a touch rough.
"I haven't told your uncles anything."
"I'm sorry..."
"For what?" Lionel frowned for the first time in a long while.
"You're not the one who should apologize. It's the thief who kidnapped my precious granddaughter."
Juliet laughed, unsure how to respond.
"You look so much like Lily... that's why I worry."
With those words, he smiled softly—a fatherly warmth radiating from him.
But then his expression grew serious.
"Just remember, Juliet. If he ever hurts you—punch him in the solar plexus and come home."
"Absolutely," she promised, her smile widening.
---