Shortly before dawn, Calix departed Asella's bedroom.
The servants had already commenced their morning duties, and the corridors bustled with activity—guards at their posts, maids carrying linens, footmen preparing the castle for the day ahead.
Calix's voice cut through the morning routine with quiet authority. "Keep silent about what you've witnessed."
Then he strode away without further explanation.
He had no desire for servants and guards to gossip at her door. And his wife certainly could not discover he'd entered her bedroom during the night. She wouldn't sleep peacefully if she learned the truth.
It was painfully obvious she was terrified of him. Every time their eyes met, her face drained of color—turning white as chalk—and her body began trembling uncontrollably.
He walked with firm, purposeful steps down the long, straight corridor bathed in pale dawn light. Then he turned into the passage leading toward his private study.
Raizen Cardon rose as early as his master, already awaiting the day's instructions.
"Good morning, Your Highness." Raizen offered a respectful bow.
Calix acknowledged him with a slight nod, and they both entered the office together.
The study—which had always maintained perfect order, every document precisely arranged—was now in complete disarray. Papers lay scattered across the floor. The desk bore signs of unusual chaos.
"I'll issue orders to discover who's responsible for this," Raizen announced, his tone carrying a warning edge.
"No need. It was me."
"Your Highness?" Raizen's eyes widened in undisguised shock. "But what happened?"
The Archduke was an extraordinarily meticulous man who valued precision and discipline above nearly all else. He maintained strict standards for his subordinates—but he was equally, if not more, demanding of himself. Therefore, Raizen could scarcely believe the evidence before his eyes.
However, Calix offered no explanation. The events of the previous night replayed in his mind's eye, one devastating image after another. Most likely, Asella would desperately wish to conceal what he'd witnessed from everyone.
That pale, anguished face remained vivid in his memory.
Calix leaned back wearily against the sofa, the leather surface cool against his spine from the fresh morning air filtering through the partially opened window.
He closed his eyes slowly and issued a brief command.
"Summon a priest."
"Are you unwell, Your Highness?"
"Not for me."
Calix recalled his wife's evident desire to keep her suffering hidden from prying eyes. He added carefully, "Inform him that a complete healing will be required."
Raizen froze momentarily.
It wasn't even the exorbitant cost of such a procedure that surprised him—for Calix Benvito, even that astronomical price represented merely a drop in an overflowing bucket.
What truly shocked him was witnessing his master—a man typically indifferent to almost everything, who preferred to eliminate anyone causing him inconvenience without the slightest hesitation—suddenly demonstrating such concern.
But now, an almost imperceptible warm light flickered in those ruby-red eyes. He was genuinely worried about someone's well-being...
"Only a high-ranking priest possesses sufficient skill for complete restoration. Summon Father Roshan. And arrange it as quickly as possible."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Raizen remained thoroughly confused.
Just yesterday, his master had been absolutely furious with his new wife—so enraged that half the castle's guard currently lay in the infirmary in pitiable condition. Zeke, who couldn't control his foolish tongue, looked particularly dreadful. He resembled a corpse more than a living man.
Yet today, even the Archduke's tone betrayed genuine concern. His face, which had been frozen like an iceberg mere hours ago, had surprisingly relaxed—softened in a way Raizen had rarely witnessed.
_Had they reconciled? Who could say?_
But something significant had clearly transpired between them.
"Raizen."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"You are to inform the Grand Duchess about all affairs pertaining to the castle's management."
"All affairs? You mean... absolutely everything?"
"It will prove difficult for Asella to adapt so suddenly to her new position. But you must gradually instruct her in everything the mistress of Benvito Castle needs to comprehend."
Once again, Raizen struggled to believe his own ears. He briefly wondered whether he'd somehow misunderstood his master's intent. But no—Calix had just dispelled all possible doubts with perfect clarity.
According to Imperial law, the lady of a great house possessed sufficient legal authority to assume control of property and estates if circumstances required it. However, the Benvito household had always operated differently. Here, the Grand Duchess's rights remained extremely limited—even basic household management fell entirely under the prince's direct control, administered through his personal servants.
Calix's announcement that the Grand Duchess would oversee all estate affairs shocked Raizen to his core. Such a radical departure from tradition had never occurred before in Benvito's long history.
_Perhaps..._
Raizen attempted to decipher what had fundamentally shifted.
His master, recognizing the political necessity of marriage given his position and status, had wed this woman without ever once laying eyes on his future bride. It would be more accurate to characterize it as a transaction—a purchase—rather than a traditional marriage. Calix hadn't been bothered in the slightest by reports that the girl suffered constant cruelty at her adoptive father's hands.
In fact, he had even considered those circumstances advantageous. A stubborn, willful wife would prove completely unsuitable for Calix's purposes. That had undoubtedly influenced his selection of Asella Charts.
A quiet, obedient woman who could be installed as Grand Duchess without excessive complications. A lady with impeccable aristocratic lineage, capable of producing a legitimate heir. Her status would be beyond reproach. Her gentle, compliant nature would generate no unnecessary difficulties.
But everything had gone wrong from the very beginning.
Various possible explanations spun through Raizen's analytical mind.
"Could it be that His Highness has actually—"
Just as he approached what might have been the correct conclusion...
"How are matters proceeding with the tutor?"
Although less than a full day had elapsed since receiving the order, Raizen's response came immediately.
"Everything has been arranged satisfactorily. We've secured an excellent replacement."
"Can this person be trusted?"
"It's a woman—young and in good health. She possesses exceptional educational credentials and works remarkably well with children. Most importantly, she maintains absolutely no connections whatsoever to Philip Charts."
_She certainly meets all necessary requirements._
Calix's features brightened with evident satisfaction.
"Excellent. And who is this paragon?"
"Your Highness knows this individual quite well. It's Margot Roman."
Noticing how Calix's eyes widened slightly in surprise, Raizen hastened to elaborate.
"I believe it would prove nearly impossible to locate someone who fulfills these criteria more perfectly than Lady Roman. As Your Highness is aware, very little time remains before the Academy's entrance examinations. Finding a qualified mentor on such short notice is like searching for a needle in a haystack. Lady Roman was once the Academy's top-ranked graduate—she was even offered a professorship upon completion of her studies."
"Not bad at all." Calix had actually been considering Margot Roman to some extent already.
The younger sister's tutor would inevitably maintain regular contact with Asella. He couldn't risk appointing an untested individual to such a sensitive position. From that perspective, Margot represented the ideal candidate—someone already trusted, already embedded within the household.
Having reached this logical conclusion, Calix arrived at a swift decision.
"Excellent. She may begin instruction immediately."
---
## — The Imperial Palace —
His Majesty was in an exceptionally foul mood.
This had become his customary state in recent weeks, but today the darkness of his temper had intensified to nearly unbearable levels. And it bore no relation whatsoever to Benvito's official reply, which the delegation from the duchy had recently delivered. It had been perfectly clear that Calix would not yield concessions so readily.
"He always waits until the final possible moment before acting. You didn't actually believe he'd send the antidote immediately, did you?" Duncan observed mildly.
But despite his aide's rational remark, the Emperor derived no comfort whatsoever.
A bird with glossy black plumage and unsettling blood-red eyes hovered persistently outside the palace window. It was Grand Duke Benvito's personal messenger—an enchanted construct that required neither food nor rest.
*Knock-knock.*
The creature's sharp beak tapped insistently against the glass with mechanical precision.
Fernando regarded the thing outside the window with undisguised hatred. Unfortunately, it wasn't truly alive—which meant it couldn't be killed, no matter how desperately Fernando might wish otherwise.
"Shall I open the window, Your Majesty?"
Silence.
"If you prefer not to receive this particular communication, I can simply send it back unopened."
Despite his words, Duncan suspected his master couldn't afford to ignore the Archduke's message. After all, wasn't this the same Emperor who monitored Calix Benvito's every movement with obsessive attention?
And indeed, Fernando gestured irritably for the window to be opened.
The mechanical bird swooped into the study and dropped a folded letter precisely onto the center of the desk.
The Emperor snatched the package with barely controlled aggression, tore away the ribbon binding it, then unfolded the contents with trembling fingers, scanning the message rapidly.
Fernando's handsome face contorted with rage.
"You impudent *bastard*!" Unable to contain his fury, Fernando slammed his fist down upon the desk with such force that several nearby objects jumped. He hurled the note aside as though it had burned him.
Duncan swiftly retrieved it, examining what had been written there.
"This..." Duncan's eyebrows drew together sharply.
Such brazen insolence—to address one's Emperor with such casual disrespect. Although... it remained an open question as to who currently possessed greater practical power. He studied the unfolded sheet once more. It contained only a brief, single-line message:
> *Perhaps you should take a brief respite?*
The text, rendered in elegant calligraphy, suddenly vanished. New words appeared in its place, as though written by an invisible hand:
> *Consider this partial payment for your recent... services.*
The paper burst into flame without warning. In its place, amidst the settling black ash, a small crystal vial materialized. It contained liquid that shifted colors depending on the angle of sunlight—iridescent, mesmerizing, and utterly infuriating in its insufficiency.
The vial was only half full.
"Damn him to the lowest hell." Duncan glanced warily toward the Emperor.
His master appeared to share that sentiment entirely. Fernando's aristocratic features twisted beyond recognition.
"That *bastard* Benvito! What does he think he's doing?"
And indeed, Calix was now toying with His Majesty as a cat might torment a captured mouse. The vial contained precisely half the necessary antidote—enough to demonstrate his power, but nowhere near sufficient to provide actual relief.
A perfect symbol of control.
A reminder of exactly who held the leash.