"...What exactly did I say?"
Juliet felt profoundly embarrassed.
"Well..."
Even after noticing her discomfort, Roy continued speaking with an unperturbed expression.
"You mentioned that a woman named Dahlia was supposed to appear and become the Saint of Lucerne—but you don't understand why she hasn't materialized yet..."
Juliet nearly bit her tongue upon hearing this. She forgot how to breathe for several heartbeats.
"That's precisely what you said, though at that moment it seemed more like unconscious delirium."
But Roy's recounting didn't end there.
"And then you started crying and begging him for forgiveness." Roy grinned strangely, narrowing his eyes as he concluded. "The last thing you kept repeating was that you didn't want to die at his hands again—and you begged him not to kill you."
At that moment, Juliet wanted to flee somewhere and hide indefinitely.
*Did I truly say all that? I only remember telling Lennox not to sever ties with the temple, and that I was sorry...*
That was the final thing Juliet recalled before losing consciousness. Everything afterward apparently occurred during fevered delirium. The realization that she'd revealed so much made her vision blur. She felt as though she might faint. However, now wasn't the time for collapse—so Juliet rapidly composed herself.
Beyond the immediate need to verify Lennox's condition, another concern weighed heavily.
*Could the butterflies' disappearance also be connected to this?*
Before fully registering what she was doing, Juliet realized she'd been staring directly into Roy's eyes the entire time.
If he started regarding her as insane after that revelation, she wouldn't blame him.
But she felt a pang of sadness imagining that his perpetually warm eyes—the color of pale amber—might turn cold when observing her.
Until this moment, she hadn't even remembered voicing such things. Anyone in his position would consider her utterly mad after hearing something like that. And on top of everything, she'd somehow lost her demon.
*Pff—ha.*
"...?"
Suddenly Juliet heard a suppressed chuckle, as though he was barely restraining laughter. She examined him more closely.
"Juliet."
Roy, seated opposite her, leaned forward slightly and placed his hand on the seat beside her.
The Countess Montagu's carriage salon wasn't particularly spacious—so Roy's actions in this confined space created a rather intimate atmosphere.
"I believe I've already mentioned this. I don't care who you are. I don't care what you said, either."
"Roy, I... I said those things because..."
"You don't want me asking about it?"
"...Yes. I don't want that," Juliet answered softly.
"Then I'll pretend I heard nothing. Let's say I lost my mind momentarily because of someone."
Roy winked at her conspiratorially and smiled with disarming sweetness.
---
## — The Duke's Residence —
The approach road to the Duke of Carlisle's capital residence filled with the rhythmic sound of hooves and the soft crunch of gravel beneath carriage wheels as the vehicle drew up to the main entrance.
An unusually quiet and slightly tense atmosphere pervaded the Duke's mansion. This uncharacteristic silence stemmed from the owner having refused all visitors due to health concerns.
Consequently, the glances directed toward the carriage that suddenly materialized in the courtyard were naturally unwelcoming.
"What's this about? Why do we have a visitor? We made it abundantly clear His Grace receives no one."
"Perhaps they didn't receive notification?"
Since the escape of the Duke of Carlisle's mistress, Juliet Montagu, difficult times had befallen all servants of the Northern ruler. They'd been particularly hard-hit during the past week, since Lennox returned to the capital. Naturally, all their complaints about their master's appalling behavior were directed toward the Duke's secretary, who acted as intermediary in such matters. This placed him in the worst position imaginable—forced to absorb servants' discontent while managing a perpetually gloomy Duke.
"I'll handle it."
Elliot, wearing an expression of calculated severity to quell any protest from the guest, approached the carriage.
*Hmm. What family decided to visit at such an inopportune time?*
It suddenly occurred to Elliot that refusing admission could trigger a massive scandal if someone from an influential house had arrived. Yet no matter how thoroughly he considered it, he couldn't rapidly formulate a reasonable refusal.
The closer he drew to the carriage, the more obvious it became that it couldn't belong to an influential aristocrat—the vehicle appeared rather plain and unadorned. He also couldn't discern the coat of arms, as the design had faded considerably, making identification impossible.
Meanwhile, the door opened, and a woman stepped out. The effortless manner in which she descended—without using the steps—seemed strangely familiar to Elliot.
The constant composed atmosphere surrounding the elegantly dressed woman, combined with that casual descent completely at odds with her refined image...
Elliot scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. Upon glimpsing the woman's face, he froze completely.
"Hello, Sir Elliot. How are you?"
The owner of the dress with mother-of-pearl buttons ascending to her chin, black lace gloves, and low-heeled shoes was...
"Miss Montague?"
At that moment, Elliot began doubting his excellent eyesight.
*How long has it been since I've seen her?*
It felt as though years had elapsed since he'd last encountered Juliet Montague at this mansion.
Juliet, having exited the carriage, walked directly toward Elliot rather than proceeding straight to the entrance.
"But why are you..."
Seeing Juliet directly before him, Elliot regained his senses and swiftly cut himself off mid-sentence.
She was no longer the Duke's mistress—she was his guest. This also meant she no longer belonged among the Duke's people.
"Oh! Excuse me—please, this way."
Meanwhile, the servants who'd been observing from the front entrance appeared puzzled when they witnessed the chief secretary—who'd been determined to eject the visitor—returning with the guest in tow.
"What's happening?"
"Why is he escorting her inside?"
"Shouldn't he have turned her away?"
But then the faces of those who'd been whispering discontentedly and watching from afar—like a colony of meerkats—illuminated as though they'd glimpsed salvation.
"It's Countess Montague!"
Even though she was the one who'd unleashed chaos by vanishing over a month prior, their joy knew no bounds upon realizing she'd returned.
"Oh—I have urgent business in that wing! Allow me to escort you there! It's on my route anyway."
"Yes, I just remembered—I must tidy the room adjacent to His Grace's chambers! Miss Juliet, I'll show you the way."
"I need to go there as well! The hallway carpets are terribly dusty! They require immediate cleaning!"
"I'll assist!"
"And I!"
Every time Juliet passed a servant—whether in the entrance hall, on staircases, or in corridors—the number of people trailing her increased consecutively under various pretexts.
It was as though people had forgotten Juliet knew the mansion's layout intimately—so they wanted to guide her lest she become lost.
Or perhaps their eagerness to help stemmed from terror that she might suddenly change her mind and flee again...
Regardless, when Juliet finally reached Lennox's bedroom door, she encountered an unexpected obstacle.
"I need to speak with the Duke."
"He instructed me to admit no one."
A large man approached silently and blocked the entrance to the Duke's chambers. This was Hardin—the Duke's assistant responsible for security.
"I only require one minute."
"No."
Juliet addressed Hardin again, requesting brief entry—but he remained inflexible.
"Then may I at least glimpse his face? I heard His Grace is gravely ill, so I wanted..."
"No entry for unauthorized individuals."
*Unauthorized?!*
Elliot, standing behind Juliet, was shocked by Hardin's unexpected response. His body began trembling violently, and a terrible grimace twisted his features—as though he might expire from disappointment.
The Duke's secretary—who'd endured every variety of unpleasantness, including threats, during Juliet's absence—stared wordlessly at Hardin. His expression eloquently demanded, *"Have you completely lost your mind?!"* He reinforced this silent question with elaborate hand gestures that appeared quite menacing.
But Hardin, stationed before the door, refused to budge.
He was a man with profound sense of duty who always took his master's directives seriously.
Hardin resembled nothing so much as the stone statue that had guarded the Duke's chambers since the mansion's construction.
Juliet's shoulders—tense with worry—slumped in the face of Hardin's unwavering determination.
The servants observing immediately felt compassion for her and glared furiously at the commander of the Duke's knights.
All of them, Hardin excluded, appeared terribly concerned that Juliet—who had unexpectedly returned—might simply depart now without ever meeting their master.
*Are you insane?* The question blazed clearly in their eyes as they regarded Hardin.
Sighing quietly, Juliet met his gaze and asked calmly:
"Then... could you go check on him yourself and inform me how he fares?"
Hardin's eyebrows twitched minutely at the question. An expression difficult to categorize crossed his stone-like features.
He glanced hesitantly over his shoulder at the door, acutely aware of the servants' combined stares boring into him, before finally stepping aside.
"...I think you should see him yourself."
---
## — In the Darkness —
The Duke's bedroom was quite dim due to thick curtains shrouding the windows.
Juliet advanced carefully into the chamber. The darkness didn't particularly trouble her—the bedroom's furnishings remained familiar.
Until entering this room, her mind had been in utter disarray.
What she'd revealed in Lucerne and how Lennox might have interpreted it had troubled her immensely, making her extraordinarily anxious.
However, upon discovering the man lying on a long couch rather than in his spacious, comfortable bed, she felt immediate calm descend.
*What's the purpose of a bed if you prefer an uncomfortable couch?*
She grumbled silently.
Lennox, dressed in a simple robe, slept peacefully. After a quick visual assessment—once her eyes adjusted to the dimness—Juliet exhaled with relief. At first glance, he bore no serious visible injuries.
Because he'd tilted his head back slightly, even in inadequate light she could vaguely discern his features. As she drew closer, the shadow she cast deepened, lending his face an even more severe beauty while creating an aura of mystery.
The moment Juliet reached the couch, she quietly knelt and studied his face calmly.
The arrogantly raised angle of his chin offered clear view of his throat. The slightly parted neckline of his robe revealed chest and abdomen. These exposed portions of his body seemed strangely seductive in the half-light as he slept like this.
Juliet regarded him hesitantly.
*Even if he appears completely healthy externally, there might be injuries hidden beneath his clothing.*
However, she feared that touching him would immediately wake him.
Juliet's worried gaze lingered on his hair, which had grown slightly longer. His black locks fell in attractive disarray across his straight forehead.
"......"
When sleeping like this, this man resembled a portrait rendered in black and white.
At the very least, it couldn't be claimed Juliet had lied when stating she admired his face.
Everything was precisely as she'd said.
From the moment she'd first glimpsed him in her previous life, she'd had no choice but to fall in love with those features.