**PART 1 — CHAPTER TITLE OPTIONS:**
→ Option 1: Snowdrop → Option 2: The Name No One Knew → Option 3: Secrets Older Than the Empire
→ ✅ BEST PICK: **"The Name No One Knew"** — This title captures the chapter's central mystery: the revelation that Juliet's family heirloom—a seemingly insignificant silver key—possesses a name that even her own bloodline never knew, yet is somehow known to the werewolves. It evokes intrigue while hinting at the deeper secrets surrounding the artifact and the butterflies' sudden silence.
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**PART 2 — FULL IMPROVED CHAPTER:**
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"Let me go. Right now."
Lennox searched Juliet's face desperately, hunting for any flicker of emotion—but found nothing.
As the silence between them stretched on, thickening the atmosphere with palpable tension, the riders trailing behind began to sense it as well.
"…Alright. Let's go back."
In the end, it was he who broke first.
Though he refused to release Juliet from his arms, he eventually abandoned his intention to carry her north with him.
Only after he turned his horse toward the distant lights of the imperial palace did Juliet finally relax against his chest.
"Your Grace, why are you here?"
*You certainly weren't in a hurry to ask that question,* Lennox thought with bitter amusement. But aloud, he said:
"Because someone lost their favorite monster…"
He paused, glancing at the luminous blue butterflies drifting alongside them.
"…thanks to her fearless wanderings."
"It seems you received my letter." Juliet's voice was perfectly calm.
But in stark contrast to her serene composure, Lennox felt his throat tightening with barely suppressed emotion.
He applied slightly more pressure to the arm supporting her—careful not to cause discomfort. Juliet sat with her head resting against his chest, and he could feel her body shift with every breath she drew.
Yet somehow, it felt as though she wasn't truly there at all.
The moment he had seen the soul stone nestled in that box, an incredible sense of relief had flooded through him—though it lasted only an instant.
> *The butterflies have disappeared.*
Because he had read the note next.
After absorbing those few short words, he had immediately opened the gate. Once he confirmed Juliet's location, he departed the North without hesitation.
And only because of that had he arrived in time.
He had found Juliet unconscious, lying in the snow deep within the hunting grounds. Nearby lay a werewolf in an indeterminate state—seemingly an empty husk, utterly devoid of soul. A furious swarm of butterflies surrounded the creature, fluttering through the air as though possessed.
"How are your eyes?"
"Do you really think *I'm* the one who needs worrying about right now?"
"Are you feeling better already?"
"…No."
As Lennox responded, he tightened his grip around her waist. Juliet shot him a suspicious glance, but he continued staring straight ahead with an expression of practiced innocence.
His physician had warned that although he was recovering faster than anticipated, he risked permanent blindness if he grew careless—or if any side effects from the treatment manifested.
But apart from a persistent, nagging dream about a woman who kept crying, he hadn't experienced any other complications.
"But… I'm getting better."
"I'm glad to hear it."
Juliet released a soft breath of relief, and her expression brightened as though a heavy burden had lifted from her shoulders.
This reaction made Lennox's face harden.
He didn't want her sympathy. And he certainly didn't want her caring for him out of guilt.
But was it truly only guilt?
Juliet hadn't even shown surprise at seeing him. Though she was naturally composed by temperament, her current behavior seemed somehow different.
Not long ago, Lennox's attention had been drawn to the expression on Juliet's face the moment she first opened her eyes.
She had looked frightened then—as though she were about to cry.
She had worn the expression of someone who had given up entirely. Someone who had realized their life was irrevocably ruined.
Now, however, she appeared completely indifferent—as though none of it mattered anymore. This sudden transformation made Lennox worry about her despite himself.
They rode in weighted silence until they reached the Emperor's palace.
Despite the late hour, the palace blazed with light—like jewels adorning an aristocrat's gown in some grand ballroom, illuminated by brilliant chandeliers. A ball was scheduled to commence after the hunt, and many people lingered near the entrance, awaiting the return of the others.
"Oh my God—!"
"The Empress!"
When the Empress spotted the group emerging from the forest, she nearly fainted on the spot.
Servants immediately rushed to her aid.
"I'm fine," Juliet declared as she dismounted, palace servants swarming toward her. But no one seemed to hear her words.
"Juliet!"
She heard Elsa shout her name—then watched as the girl shoved through the crowd and sprinted toward her.
"Doctor! Summon a physician immediately!"
"What happened to you?"
"What in God's name occurred in the imperial forest—?"
"First of all, I would like to wash and change my clothes."
It was only after Juliet spoke rather sharply that the people surrounding her finally came to their senses and ceased their frantic fussing.
"Countess Montague, please follow me. I will escort you to your chambers."
The Empress's chief lady-in-waiting cast a stern glance at the gathered crowd, causing them to retreat from Juliet.
"And this concerns you as well, Duke of Carlisle! The lady requires rest and privacy to compose herself!"
The moment the formidable maid positioned herself in his path, Lennox fixed her with a cold, crimson stare. In Juliet's current state, he didn't want her disappearing from his sight for even an instant.
"…Alright. Go."
But ultimately, Lennox retreated. He turned and walked away from her.
Following a fleeting impulse, Juliet glanced after him—then obediently followed the Empress's lady-in-waiting into the palace.
Meanwhile, Lennox kept his eyes fixed on her back until she vanished completely from view. Only then did he slowly remove his gloves.
"Your Majesty."
"D-D-Duke of Carlisle! Delighted to see you."
"Your palace guards are simply appalling. Why do you bother keeping them? They're utterly useless."
"U-Useless?"
The Emperor, struggling to determine where this conversation was heading, found his thoughts thrown into genuine confusion by such an openly scathing assessment.
The reason this year's snow fox hunt had ended so disastrously was the sudden invasion of the imperial hunting grounds by a member of an entirely different race.
"Indeed. And as your loyal vassal, I cannot possibly stand aside."
However, instead of assigning blame, Lennox actually smiled—softly, almost pleasantly.
The Emperor desperately wanted to ask *when* exactly the Duke had become his loyal vassal, but wisely held his tongue.
The Duke of Carlisle's speech, delivered in that deceptively ingratiating tone, did not end there.
"So, for the time being, I would like your permission for myself and my men to remain here in the palace." His smile widened fractionally. "You will grant it, won't you?"
"Of course! I fully approve of this arrangement."
The Emperor discovered to his mounting horror that the Duke of Carlisle's *meek* demeanor was several times more terrifying than his usual impassive coldness—so he hastened to agree without protest.
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"Oh my God! Juliet! Are you truly alright?"
Elsa wept openly, asking repeatedly if she was unharmed.
"I'm so sorry—I… Roy instructed me to look after you properly, but I… please, *forgive* me…"
"Elsa. I'm genuinely fine. Just help me remove these clothes."
"Yes!"
Though Elsa's movements were somewhat clumsy, with her assistance they managed to peel away the filthy garments.
The court maids were visibly alarmed by Juliet's disheveled appearance, but as she had promised, no serious injuries were discovered when she removed her soiled clothing and examined herself—only a scattering of minor scratches. This was to be expected; one couldn't escape unscathed while galloping headlong through a forest, fleeing a relentless pursuer.
While the maids departed briefly to fetch fresh clothes and other necessities, Juliet decided to bathe.
When she finally immersed herself in the steaming water, she felt her muscles gradually warming and loosening. Little by little, her senses began returning to normal.
"Elsa."
Juliet decided to seize this brief moment of privacy. She called to Elsa in a cautious voice.
"What is it, Juliet?" Elsa moved closer to the bathtub.
Juliet withdrew the silver key she always carried and extended it toward Elsa. But unlike Graham, Elsa didn't react to it at all.
Which wasn't surprising—Elsa and Nathan, not to mention Roy, had seen this key countless times before. None of them had ever remarked upon it the way Graham had.
"I encountered a werewolf in the forest. I believe he was Roy's brother."
Amazement flickered across Elsa's face.
"He said his name was Graham."
"*Graham?*" Elsa's eyes widened. "You mean he was *here*? But how could he possibly—"
Juliet took the startled girl's hand and interrupted gently:
"He called this key a 'Snowdrop.'"
"Snowdrop…?"
Elsa's eyes went round at the word.
"Do you know what this is?"
"Yes. I know."
Elsa's gaze moved between the key and Juliet's face, her expression more serious than Juliet had ever seen it.
"That's the name of a flower."
"…Yes. That's true."
Juliet laughed softly, feeling slightly foolish.
"I know that much as well."
However, Elsa's explanation did not end there. She continued speaking, her voice grave:
"My grandmother told me they were very, *very* dangerous. It had been so long since anyone had seen one that most believed they no longer existed. They were so evil that they were driven from the forest—and never permitted to return."
But that was all Elsa could offer. She spoke as though reciting the words of some ancient legend—or perhaps a half-forgotten fairy tale.
*[……]*
Juliet felt a persistent inner unease—one that troubled her even more than Elsa's cryptic words.
The butterflies, which had previously been so vocal they gave her headaches, had maintained complete silence since their reappearance. They drifted around her as though they were no longer truly alive.
It was deeply strange.
The key, passed down through her family for generations, was as old as the Empire itself—three hundred years, at least.
It had been bestowed upon the Montague family shortly after the Empire's founding.
So how did the werewolves know the name of this key? A name that even *no one* in the Montague bloodline had ever known?
*Artifact.*
As far as Juliet understood, artifacts possessed no names.
The term "artifact" had been specifically introduced as a convenient designation for treasures possessing power beyond rational explanation.
It was common for famous, expensive jewelry—like the renowned Tears of the Sun necklace—to be given beautiful names. But this was the first time she had ever heard of an *artifact* bearing one.
The small silver key the Montague family had inherited was merely a piece of worn silver. It resembled a toy key more than a valuable piece of jewelry—hardly the sort of thing that would warrant a name.
In truth, it wasn't just Juliet's key that appeared to be a cheap antique at first glance; the same was true of virtually all known artifacts.
"…Is that your name?" Juliet whispered, hoping to hear an answer from her butterflies.
*[……]*
But no response came. The butterflies remained utterly silent.
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