He felt it in his bones—a visceral, undeniable certainty that he needed to leave. He simply *had* to leave.
Calix lifted Asella into his arms. Her body was impossibly light, fragile as a bird's.
He carried her to the sofa with careful precision, setting her down as though she might shatter at the slightest jarring motion. Then he turned away abruptly, as if something were chasing him.
"I'll send for Margot. Wait here."
And he fled from his own study.
---
Raizen knew immediately that something was wrong with the Archduke.
Those blood-red eyes reflected a storm of complex emotions—emotions so intense, so barely contained, that Raizen found himself afraid to speak. A cold knot formed in his stomach as he watched his master stride past.
_I've never seen him like this._
Raizen shook his head slowly, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a shroud.
The Archduke's face rarely betrayed anything. His emotions were like footprints in sand—appearing only in rare, fleeting moments before vanishing entirely, leaving nothing in the man's memory. Even when he cut down enemies on the battlefield, surrounded by blood and chaos, his expression remained as still and unreadable as carved marble.
But now...
Raizen swallowed against a dry throat.
_This won't end well._
"Raizen!"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Everyone. Training ground. **Now.**"
---
The ominous premonition proved entirely justified.
Benvito's elite guard found themselves cast into the deepest circle of hell.
Training that had begun in the early morning hours stretched on relentlessly, pushing far beyond what even the most hardened warriors of House Benvito could endure—men who had experienced every conceivable form of combat, who had survived campaigns that would break lesser soldiers. Yet not a single one dared to complain.
The unfortunates would rather die in training than face their master's wrath directly.
"**Pull yourselves together!**"
"Your Highness—that's enough—I yield!" A knight collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. "Please, I—"
"**Next!**" Calix's face remained utterly expressionless as he called for his next victim.
The faces of the guardsmen awaiting their turn grew progressively paler. Half of them already lay sprawled across the parade ground, completely unconscious. Those who had managed to remain standing looked equally dismal—hunched over, clutching bruised ribs, barely able to lift their wooden training swords.
Fortunately, only two men had sustained serious injuries thus far. But as the hours wore on, no one could guarantee their continued safety.
"Raizen." Zeke sidled up to his fellow knight, keeping his voice low. "Come on, tell me what happened."
"What makes you think something happened?"
"Don't play coy with me. There *has* to be a reason. His Highness hasn't been himself since this morning." Zeke continued to press, his sharp eyes fixed on the Archduke's back.
But Raizen only turned away in silence.
"I genuinely enjoy sparring with the Grand Duke—normally," Zeke muttered, watching Calix with undisguised wariness. "But right now? This isn't training. It's a *bloodbath*." He gestured toward the parade ground. "Look at him. He's mowed down almost half the men without breaking a single drop of sweat."
Raizen glanced at his pocket watch.
"Two minutes and forty seconds. This one lasted quite a while."
"**Next!**"
The unfortunate soul whose turn had arrived stepped forward on legs so swollen they could barely support him. His face bore the expression of a man being led to the executioner's block. Meanwhile, the knight who had lasted two minutes and forty seconds was being dragged from the parade ground by his ankles, leaving twin furrows in the dirt.
Zeke clicked his tongue.
"This is the first time I've envied the reconnaissance team. If I'd known, I would have volunteered to go with them this morning."
"It's a great honor, you idiot, to spar with the Archduke himself."
"Oh yes! Such an *honor* will land me in the infirmary for a week." Zeke's eyes narrowed. "Come on—just tell me what happened."
Another victim was being dragged away by his feet.
"Nothing happened."
"Then perhaps you could explain something to me." Zeke lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Why is His Highness in *this* state? Why is a happy groom—who should be enjoying himself in bed with his beautiful new wife—instead beating the living daylights out of every poor bastard on this damned training ground?"
Raizen's response came a heartbeat too late.
Realization dawned in Zeke's eyes. The young man had spent his entire childhood surviving the slums, with no one to watch over him. Such a life had granted him remarkably sharp instincts.
"How are things going on the... *personal* front?"
Again, Raizen's response was delayed by a fraction of a second too long.
"What?" Zeke's eyes went wide as saucers. "No. *No way.*" His voice rose with incredulous excitement. "Are you telling me there's actually someone in this world who could send *our master* away?"
"Careful what you say, Zeke." Raizen's warning carried an edge of genuine alarm.
But it was useless.
Zeke was so stunned by his revelation that he completely forgot where he was standing. His eyes lit up like a puppy who'd discovered an intriguing new toy.
"Incredible! I thought His Highness was invincible! In *all* matters!" He barely contained a gleeful laugh. "Isn't that supposed to be true?"
"Why are you *shouting*—"
"And I thought the little lady was completely helpless!"
"I told you to *shut up*—"
Raizen, sensing danger approaching like a storm front, lunged to cover Zeke's mouth with his hand. His eyes darted around frantically, checking whether the Archduke was still occupied with his sparring.
"No, but this explains *everything*!" Zeke's voice emerged muffled against Raizen's palm. "Our master is absolutely *furious* because his bride kicked him out on their very first night—!"
"**Who was kicked out?**"
*Your... ass...*
Zeke recoiled as though he'd come face-to-face with a messenger from the underworld itself.
"Y-Your Highness!"
*I'm dead.*
That was the singular, crystalline thought that crossed Lord Cardon's mind as he beheld the monster materializing directly before them. His thoughts scattered into chaos with the realization that nothing—absolutely nothing—could save them now.
Calix, who had been swinging his wooden sword on the training ground mere seconds ago, now stood directly in front of them. The air around him seemed to drop several degrees.
"Sir, did you... did you happen to hear that?" Zeke retreated a step, attempting an awkward smile that came out more like a grimace of terror.
*Madman!* Raizen cursed silently. *What's on the mind is on the tongue indeed. What an empty-headed fool. I should have sewn that damn idiot's mouth shut years ago.*
Lord Cardon released a soft, regretful sigh. But it was far too late.
"I see you boys still have quite a bit of energy to spare." Calix's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes—a smile that promised pain. "But we'll remedy that. Don't worry."
*How terrifying!*
Both knights shuddered simultaneously at the hellish smile spreading across that divinely beautiful face.
*Lord above, let it snow. Just please—not another run around the parade ground.*
Raizen closed his eyes in desperate, silent prayer.
"A hundred laps around the parade ground. You have three hours."
---
## — The Greenhouse —
While Zeke suffered the consequences of his inability to keep his mouth shut—running endless laps around the training grounds with Raizen condemned to join him—Asella spent her afternoon with Mariel.
Thanks to Margot's genuine care and carefully applied ice compresses, the redness around Asella's eyes had diminished enough that the remaining evidence could be concealed with powder.
"Mariel, aren't you frightened to sleep alone at night?"
"Not at all, sister!" The girl beamed. "I have my teddy bear to protect me. Besides, the goddess Hernia herself appeared to me in a dream."
Asella had worried that Mariel might have overheard their voices that night. But it seemed everything was well. With a heavy heart, she gently explained the news about the delayed tutor.
"His Highness has promised to find a new teacher, so we'll simply have to wait a little longer."
"I understand." Mariel shook her head and offered a reassuring smile. "I'm not too upset. So please don't worry about me, sister."
"I truly want you to enter the Academy." Asella stroked the girl's soft hair, trying to comfort the child who was clearly disappointed but refused to show it—all to avoid causing her older sister distress.
"Ah!" Mariel's eyes flew open. She suddenly jumped up, apparently remembering something important. "Sister, have you seen the gardens yet?" She clapped her hands together in anticipation.
"Not yet. Why do you ask?"
"They say it's *beautiful* there! Flowers everywhere—everywhere you look! And there's a greenhouse too!" Mariel's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Let's go see it together!"
Asella's smile faltered. Remembering her husband's cold words from the night before, she feared wandering the castle freely, dreading another outburst of his anger. But how could she possibly explain such things to a little girl?
"I asked one of the maids," Mariel persisted, undeterred, "and she said I could visit the gardens whenever I wanted. We just need someone to show us the way."
Asella glanced uncertainly at Margot.
The Countess nodded in confirmation.
"Yes, the weather is pleasantly warm today. And the flowers are truly magnificent this time of year. You could enjoy a cup of tea in the greenhouse as well."
"But still... His Highness..."
"You heard correctly, Your Highness. You may go whenever you wish."
But Asella couldn't bring herself to decide. *He said that yesterday. But today... perhaps everything has changed.*
Margot, intuiting her doubts, hastened to provide reassurance.
"With the exception of certain of His Highness's private quarters, there is no place in this castle where you are forbidden to go. His Highness has issued no orders restricting your movement. Therefore, his original permission remains in effect."
Asella's eyes widened with genuine surprise. The concept seemed almost impossible to accept.
At Charts Mansion, whenever she upset Philip, she was subjected to brutal corporal punishment and locked away for days—sometimes weeks. She wasn't permitted to leave her room, let alone stroll through the gardens. A maid would bring her meals. She could be kept imprisoned like that for up to a fortnight.
*A cruel man like Benvito, who despises everything associated with the Charts name. Adele's murderer.*
She had naturally assumed he would be even worse than Philip. She had genuinely feared that leaving her apartment without permission might result in a flogging. After all, heads of noble families frequently exploited their positions to abuse their spouses with impunity.
"Sister! Sister!" A child's animated voice pulled Asella from her dark thoughts. "What have you decided?"
"Nothing."
"What do you *mean*, nothing?"
"I... I can't go."
"But the maids already suggested I take a walk in the garden!" Mariel's voice rose with passionate disappointment. "I really, *really* wanted to go. But I was waiting for you! Because I want to go *with* my sister." She clasped her small hands together pleadingly. "Let's go together, okay? *Please?*"
Asella attempted to calm her, but the child's stubbornness proved truly extraordinary. Finally, after much negotiation, Mariel managed to convince her reluctant sister.
"Alright. But let's wait until evening."
"Okay! I understand!" Mariel's blue eyes sparkled with anticipation, bright as morning stars.
Asella's anxiety-riddled mind found unexpected comfort in that brilliant, innocent smile. The tension in her face eased, and the corners of her lips twitched, struggling to lift.
---
"Mariel, where are you?"
"Wow! Sister, look at *this* flower!" Mariel darted between the exotic plants, her voice echoing through the glass walls. "When you touch it, the bud *closes*!"
The girl raced through the greenhouse in a state of perpetual amazement, exclaiming over every rare and unusual specimen. Despite the late evening hour, the interior remained pleasantly warm thanks to the carefully positioned braziers. The servants had arranged elegant tables and cushioned chairs, provided soft wool blankets, and set out beautiful china dishes, creating an atmosphere of cozy intimacy.
"Wow! That looks *delicious*!"
Mariel's botanical exploration finally concluded when Margot placed a fragrant pot of tea and a plate of freshly baked cookies on the table.
The delicious aroma of warm tea and chocolate chip cookies coaxed another smile onto Asella's face.
"Thank you, Margot."
"I'll leave you to enjoy your tea. If you need anything at all, simply call." Margot gestured toward a round crystal orb resting on a nearby table. It was a magical summoning stone, capable of producing an incredible melodic sound—like the plucking of a harp string. Such artifacts were so rare and precious that they were typically found only in the Emperor's palace. Yet here in Benvito Castle, they seemed to be everywhere.
"Delicious!" Mariel bit into a large piece of chocolate chip cookie, crumbs scattering across her chin. "Why aren't you eating anything, sister?"
"Too many sweets aren't good for you, Mariel."
"Tsk!" The girl puffed out her cheeks in exaggerated disbelief. But then her expression shifted into something sly and knowing. She extended a cookie toward Asella. "Try it, sister. Food always tastes better when eaten together."
"Thank you." Asella reached out to accept the offering.
"Wait a moment—"
The girl's eyes suddenly widened. Her brow furrowed as though she were trying to confirm something she couldn't quite believe.
Then her face froze in horrified amazement. A shocked question burst from her lips before she could stop it.
"Asella—what happened to your *hand*?"
Beneath the wide sleeves of her dress, Asella's wrists were covered in deep purple bruises.
"How—how did this happen, sister?"
Only now did Asella notice the marks on her own wrists. They looked as though someone had gripped her far too tightly, leaving vivid impressions of fingers pressed into delicate flesh.
After a moment's thought, she remembered. The Archduke had seized her arms the previous night as she'd tried to break free and escape. Apparently, his grip had been far stronger than she'd realized. It was no wonder such deep marks remained on her thin skin—skin that still hadn't fully healed from years of mistreatment.
She had been so overwhelmed in that moment that she hadn't noticed the pain at all. And afterward, she had been so consumed by desperation that she hadn't thought to check.
Asella quickly tugged her sleeves down, concealing her wrists beneath the fabric.
"It's nothing."
"Don't say that! I definitely saw it." Mariel's voice rose with distress. "Those are *bruises*."
"I accidentally bumped into a table. They'll heal in a few days. Please forget about it."
"Oh, *no*..."
Before Asella could comprehend what was happening, Mariel had crossed the space between them. The little girl stood before her sister with tear-filled eyes.
"I'll pray for you, sister. I'll pray to the goddess Hernia." Her small voice trembled with conviction. "I know that if you pray to her sincerely for someone who's sick or hurt, they'll definitely get better."
"It's alright, Mariel—"
"No, it's *not* alright."
Asella tried to hide her hands behind her back, not wanting the child to worry over something so trivial. But Mariel insisted, gently but firmly taking hold of her sleeve. Finally, yielding to her sister's determination, Asella offered one hand.
"Does it hurt?" Mariel's plump fingers carefully, reverently touched the dark spots marring her sister's wrist. Then she closed her eyes.
"Goddess Hernia... please. Help my sister get well soon. Please let her always, always be healthy."
Mariel's prayer continued, her young voice soft and earnest in the warm greenhouse air.
"May she never catch a cold, even if it's very, *very* cold outside. If it's cold, my sister often gets sick, and then she suffers from a high fever—so much that she's miserable for days and days. That's why, even though she loves to walk, she can't go outside when it's cold. Please, great goddess Hernia... warm her with your warmth. Warm her today, and tomorrow, and the day after that. **_Always._**"
Asella's heart swelled, touched beyond words by her younger sister's care—by the way Mariel noticed even the smallest details about her, remembered every vulnerability, and wove them into this innocent, fervent prayer.