Marin's gaze drifted involuntarily to his figure.
The black shirt did nothing to conceal the powerful muscles beneath. *Does he exercise right here in his office?* His physique didn't have the softened look of someone who merely sat behind a desk.
"Well, it's not so much muscles..." She fumbled for words, feeling herself sink deeper with every syllable. "Rather a... way of life, so to speak."
The more she spoke, the more she felt she was digging her own grave. She pressed her lips tightly together and dropped her head.
"Unexpected." His voice was cool, measured. "I thought you'd ask me to spare your life—just in case. Something like that."
Marin's head jerked up.
"Life? *Exactly!* Why didn't I think of that right away?"
A guarantee of life. The *right to life*!
She should have at least begged for mercy in case her lie was ever exposed.
Barely restraining the urge to stamp her feet at the missed opportunity, Marin whispered, clinging to a thread of hope:
"Is it possible... to change my wish?"
"What do you think?"
"...No."
*Of course not. Such luck would never be hers.*
Her eyes stung. Her shoulders slumped. She bowed to the Duke once more.
"Then I'll take my leave."
"Where are you going?"
"To my quarters."
"I will fulfill your wish now."
"What?"
"Let's go for a walk."
"*What?*"
Marin blinked, tilting her head in confusion.
"Temporary." His tone turned icy. "I hope you didn't seriously think that I, being blind, could go for a walk alone? That would be absurd."
He spoke as though explaining something painfully obvious to a slow child.
"Ah..." Marin's lips parted, then closed again.
"...I thought you could. Absurd of me."
Sometimes the Duke moved with such confident precision that she genuinely doubted whether he was truly blind. She had simply assumed he could manage on his own.
"Come here."
"Yes."
She walked slowly toward him. He rose from his seat.
Seeing the Duke standing for the first time in weeks, Marin felt suddenly small. His height and powerful frame were intimidating. Even seated, his presence was overwhelming—but standing, he was like a mountain given human form.
"Closer."
"Yes."
She stepped forward, lips pressed together in tension.
*So what now?*
A memory surfaced unbidden: a picture from her childhood, a blind man walking with his companion, hand resting on their shoulder.
"Your Grace."
"What?"
"Please—place your hand on my shoulder?"
A muscle twitched along his jaw.
*Oh. Right. He doesn't like physical contact.*
"Then perhaps a cane would be—"
"Where is your shoulder?"
"Here. Ah, allow me."
Carefully taking hold of his sleeve, Marin guided his hand to rest upon her shoulder.
His palm was large and heavy, seeming to encompass her entire shoulder. And surprisingly warm.
"Shall we go, then?" she whispered, forcing cheer into her voice.
"Fine."
---
Marin walked one step ahead of the Duke, setting a steady pace.
They descended to the first floor, and she opened the back door to avoid encountering anyone, stepping out into the night.
A large, luminous full moon greeted them.
"Just a moment. Let's stop."
Marin halted.
"Why?"
"I'm deciding where to go."
"Let's go wherever you'd like, Temporary."
"Fine."
Marin led them toward a place where few people wandered.
Leaving the grove behind, they emerged into a wide garden with a silken green lawn—the very place where she had searched for the mandrelson.
Beneath the enormous moon, the fresh grass glistened with night dew, shimmering like scattered stardust.
"Wow."
The word escaped before she could stop it. The night garden was breathtaking.
"What is it?"
"It's beautiful..."
*Don't you see?* The words nearly left her mouth before she caught herself.
She had forgotten again—forgotten because of how silently and obediently he followed her, as though he could see everything she saw.
"Why did you stop mid-sentence?"
"No reason."
The Duke removed his hand from her shoulder and walked slowly forward.
He crossed the lawn, which sparkled beneath the white moon, and stopped in the center of the clearing.
*Like a painting.*
He seemed to be listening to something. Then he exhaled deeply.
And—as though escaping from suffocation—he untied the black ribbon covering his eyes.
Marin's eyes widened. She stared, frozen.
Suddenly, the Duke turned to face her.
She held her breath, gazing at his closed eyelids.
His lashes trembled. The lids slowly rose.
His eyes were silver—so pale they were almost white. Pure. Like the eyes of a fairy born from snowflakes.
She inhaled sharply at the sight of such terrible, devastating beauty.
He walked toward her with measured steps, moving as though he could see her perfectly.
"Scared?"
"Ah..."
The Duke closed the distance between them, and his overwhelming presence made her retreat without thinking.
"Am I disgusting?"
"..."
Crushed beneath the weight of his aura, Marin couldn't speak. She shook her head.
"Do I look like a monster?"
His face remained expressionless, but his voice—low and rough—sounded as though it was bleeding pain.
The spell that had bound her tongue shattered.
"No. Not at all."
"Then why did you retreat?"
"...Too beautiful."
It felt strange to say such a thing to a man, but his beauty was blinding. *Frightening.*
"What?"
He stood motionless for a heartbeat, as though someone had struck him from behind. Then his brow furrowed.
"You are too beautiful. I was simply... afraid."
"Temporary."
The Duke stepped closer still, his eyes mesmerizing—like a scattering of silver stars.
*In the novel, he had black hair and black eyes.*
*Why this color? Because of the blindness?*
Marin gazed into those eyes as if hypnotized. Could he see her? There was no focus in that beautiful gaze.
"Yes?"
He leaned his head toward her face and whispered, soft as silk:
"Are you seducing me?"
"*Wh-what?!*"
The words hit her like a bucket of ice water. She snapped back to reality.
"Shouldn't it be the other way around?!"
"W-what do you mean, the other way around?" Marin sputtered, her face burning crimson.
"A pity," the Duke murmured, something bitter threading through his voice.
"What exactly is—"
Gerald chose silence.
She seemed to understand his intent, so she fell quiet as well.
*And yet—she is a girl with such big eyes.*
For the first time since he had lost his sight, true frustration gnawed at him.
He wanted to *see* her face.
He wanted to know if she saw a monster when she looked at him.
After the creature had attacked him, his eyes had changed—from black to silver.
No one in the world had silver eyes.
And for good reason: silver was the color of monsters' eyes.
He had personally killed countless beasts bearing those same eyes.
He had wondered if he himself had become one of them—and so he hid his gaze from the world.
But when she saw them, she said, *"Beautiful."*
So she had never seen monsters, then.
Smiling bitterly to himself, Gerald peered into the whitish haze before him.
Everyone believed that blindness meant pitch darkness. They were wrong.
His world was blindingly white.
That was why he always covered his eyes with the black ribbon. Why he kept to dark rooms. Anything to dim the relentless glare, even slightly.
When the mandrelson was applied, the burning pain in his eyes faded for several hours.
That was why he had agreed so readily to this walk tonight.
For the first time in ages, the fresh air tasted sweet and clean.
He could have managed the walk alone, even without resting his hand on her shoulder—but he had deliberately brought Marin along.
He had been curious where she would lead him.
There was a faint scent of mandrelson nearby. *So this is where she gathered it.*
Strange. Being with her was... amusing. Calm.
And then—
"***Your Grace!!!***" Olive's voice shattered the stillness, raw with desperation.
"That's Mr. Olive," Marin said quietly.
"I know."
"Should I let him know we're here?"
"No need."
Olive was already sprinting toward them with everything he had.
Gerald suppressed his displeasure and tied the ribbon over his eyes once more.
"Your Highness!!!" Olive collapsed to his knees before them, voice hoarse and trembling. "A letter!!!"
"What is all this commotion about?"
"The Count and his wife..." A sob tore from Olive's throat. "They've passed away."
He crumpled forward, weeping mournfully.
Gerald stood utterly still.
*His sister was dead.*