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A tall, slender woman strode hurriedly down the corridor.
Her long hair was neatly braided and pinned up, and numerous medals glinted on her dark blue uniform.
This woman was Michele, a knight in the direct service of the Grand Duke.
"Michele" was usually a male name.
Those who knew her only by name were often surprised upon meeting her.
Some admired how a woman could become a direct knight of the Duke—and that was the better case.
Many others openly ignored or looked down on her.
But Michele didn't care for other people's opinions.
Her master's recognition was enough for her, and the gossipers quickly fell silent once they saw her in action.
However, even Michele, indifferent as she was to the opinions of others, wanted to be liked and recognized by two specific people.
The first, of course, was her master.
The second was Eileen Elodd.
Michele had first met Eileen when the girl was still a servant in Cesare's palace.
The ten-year-old little lady had been so sweet and charming that it seemed as if her footsteps rang.
She had watched as the girl, who had once presented her with a ring made of wildflowers and a shy smile, grew and became an adult.
Having gone through all sorts of trials together, Michele had unintentionally developed an affection for her.
Eileen was like a daughter to her, one she had raised with her heart, and like a younger sister.
And she wasn't alone in this—the Duke's other knights and soldiers also treated Eileen as their own daughter or sister.
"Where is Lady Eileen?"
Bursting into the ballroom, Michele immediately spotted Rotan and Diego and asked about Eileen's whereabouts.
Hearing that Eileen was at the ball today, Michele had hurried as fast as she could, but she was still late.
Tapping her foot with impatience, Michele looked for Eileen, while Diego chuckled.
Rotan maintained a stony expression, but if one looked closely, the corners of his lips could be seen twitching.
"Where is Lady Eileen?
Surely you didn't..." Michele stared at them with suspicion.
"Invite her for a dance?
Without me?"
Diego crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow teasingly.
"You should have hurried."
"Ah, damn it.
You bastards."
Despite the strong word, Michele’s shoulders slumped.
Her face contorted in a grimace, shifting the freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Her voice trembled as if she were on the verge of tears.
"Traitors.
I specifically asked you to save me a spot."
"How could I refuse the soldiers who wanted to invite the lady to dance?"
"You should have crossed out your name and written mine!"
"Try to be more noble about it."
While Diego and Michele bickered, Rotan stole a glance at his watch.
It was past the time when Cesare was supposed to return from the greenhouse, yet he was delayed longer than expected.
The Emperor was due to arrive soon, and no further delays could be permitted.
*‘I’ll wait another five minutes,’* Rotan set a mental deadline.
Intervening between the grumbling Diego and Michele, he asked, "And Senon?"
"He’s not finished yet.
Unlikely he’ll make it today," Michele answered with a pout.
Knowing that she had been delayed by work, Diego softened his tone.
"Hey, good work."
"Drop it."
"..."
Diego, having tried to be supportive only to receive hostility in return, looked at Rotan with an offended expression.
But Rotan had already secured a spot for the third set of dances, so he couldn't exactly take Diego's side.
He let out an unprovoked cough and tried to diffuse the situation by suggesting they all visit Eileen at her home soon, when...
*CRASH!* A heavy impact shook the ballroom.
The silence, previously filled only by peaceful music and quiet conversation, was suddenly shattered by a deafening sound.
Then came the frightened screams of those who discovered the source of the noise.
The doors to the hall swung open with such force they almost flew off their hinges, and the guest of honor appeared on the threshold—Cesare.
Covered completely in blood, he entered the hall, leaving bloody footprints behind him on the clean marble floor.
Drip, drip—his steps were marked by droplets of blood.
His red eyes glinted in the light of the chandelier.
In them was the thrill of an assassin.
The aristocrats here, accustomed to hunting nothing but small game, were so overwhelmed by Cesare’s aura they feared even to breathe.
Only then did they notice he wasn't alone.
Cesare was holding the hand of a young lady whose face was whiter than chalk.
It looked more like she was being escorted under guard than accompanied, although Cesare was trying to maintain a semblance of politeness.
Dressed in an old-fashioned and plain dress, the young lady made for an odd sight.
The dress itself was elegant and modern, but the face of its wearer seemed to have come straight out of the previous century.
Bangs covering her eyes, glasses, no makeup, unkempt hair... those who were inwardly surprised suddenly remembered that this was the same young lady the Duke's soldiers had surrounded earlier.
But now, no one dared to direct any barbs at her.
The reason was fear of the Duke, who held her by the hand.
Cesare stopped in the center of the hall, leading the young lady.
For a while, he silently surveyed the crowd.
His blood-filled gaze slid over the aristocrats.
Those he favored with a look froze like statues.
Cesare sighed and spoke.
"I appreciate your eagerness to congratulate me on my victory." He pushed back his blood-soaked hair and asked a question.
"But isn't this reaching a bit of an extreme?"
No answer came.
The silence in the hall was so absolute that the sound of dripping sweat could almost be heard.
Savoring the eerie quiet, Cesare smirked.
"I have appraised your diligent efforts.
I will certainly repay you soon." He smiled brilliantly, but declared in an icy tone, "Do not doubt it."
Cesare turned and walked out unhurriedly.
In that same moment, all the Duke's soldiers in the hall followed after him.
Even after all those in uniform had left the room, the hall remained in silence for a long time.
***
It had happened when Eileen was eleven and Cesare was eighteen.
That day, Eileen had been drinking tea with Cesare in the Prince’s garden, animatedly telling him about her impressions of the *Botanical Encyclopedia* he had gifted her.
Just as she was explaining the difference between gymnosperms and angiosperms, the servant served a second round of tea—dried marigolds.
Eileen clutched her cup of flower tea and enthusiastically told Cesare that marigolds were good for the eyes and helped heal wounds.
She was about to take a sip when...
"Eileen."
Cesare gently took her wrist and forced her to set the cup down.
Surprised, and wanting to taste the beautiful flower tea as soon as possible, Eileen tilted her head.
Cesare placed a cookie in her hand and handed the cup to the servant with an order.
"Drink it."
The servant's face darkened instantly.
His body shook as if from a chill, and he suddenly fell to his knees.
"Your Grace!"
The servant pleaded for mercy.
Cesare looked down at the supplicating servant and smiled.
"I said drink the tea." A smile played on his face.
"I didn't ask you to beg for forgiveness."
Despair reflected in the servant's eyes.
When he continued to hesitate, Cesare's knights forced the contents of the cup down his throat.
The servant began to convulse, foam appearing at his mouth, his eyes rolling back.
Cesare ordered "this" to be removed and turned to Eileen, perfectly calm.
"It seems we won't be having tea.
Let's have cookies instead."
Eileen froze with the cookie in her hand, unable to utter a single word. she tried to maintain her composure, but the sight was too cruel for a child.
Cesare waited for an answer, but she only blinked helplessly.
"Hic... huff..."
Eventually, tears burst from her eyes.
Cesare was flustered and spent a long time comforting her.
It was a tragedy that happened because they didn't yet know each other.