PMBA | Chapter 15

When Kyrie didn’t move, the Duke spoke, 

“Do you need an escort?”

As she remained silent, still sitting on the bed,

“Your Grace.”

Someone who appeared to be the Duke’s servant approached, addressing him with a slightly urgent tone. The Duke glanced at Kyrie and then stepped outside with the servant. He seemed unconcerned whether she stayed or followed him.

‘As if I were a piece of furniture.’

Kyrie shuddered and stood up. A chill permeated her body. She quickly touched her mother’s pendant necklace, but perhaps because her hand was cold, she felt no warmth.

‘Mother.’ 

She still had an obligation. An obligation to be happy. But now that the option of Lexion was gone…

All sorts of thoughts arose and then crashed against a wall.

Run away.

She would be caught by the ducal guards before she even got far. Another man. The men who would accept her as a bride now were either old men seeking young wives or men rumored to beat their spouses.

‘Do I have to resort to such terrible options?’ 

She didn’t want to.

‘…Where do I go to find happiness now?’

Or rather, could she even grasp something she didn’t know? Perhaps even if happiness appeared before her, she would miss it. She didn’t know how to hold onto something she didn’t even know the shape of.

‘Nothing seems to go right.’

She didn’t want to be discouraged by this, but she already felt exhausted. Everything she had worked for all her life had slipped through her fingers so easily.

She felt as if hot blood or a lump would rise in her throat.

“Pull yourself together.”

Kyrie whispered to herself and stepped out into the hallway as if in a trance.

Creak.

The hallway that greeted her was as unfamiliar as the room. The grand and antique mansion felt cold and impersonal. The lingering scent of heavy cigars indicated that this building was connected to the Duke.

The silent mansion felt like a ghost’s residence. Not just any ghost, but a ghost whose only legacy was wealth.

‘Is it not maintained?’

But the mansion was in excellent condition. Perhaps he kept only a minimal staff. That’s why she hadn’t seen any maids.

But it wasn’t Kyrie’s concern. She just wanted to walk to clear her mind. Barefoot, without even slippers, just as she used to pace her room endlessly when her mind was troubled.

As she walked down the high-ceilinged hallway,

“Did you hear?”

A whispering voice came from beyond a large door in the hallway. Kyrie flinched and stopped.

‘Should I hide?’

She was a guest who had left her designated room without permission. She didn’t know if the Duke’s household would welcome her presence.

As she hesitated, another voice whispered,

“About the woman?”

“Which one? The one His Grace brought to the mansion this time…”

“No, the other one.”

Kyrie’s heart leaped, thinking they were talking about her. Then someone said in an angry voice,

“Did you hear about that damned Duchess of Melua?”

“Oh, that.”

“How could His Majesty do that?”

“Even His Majesty… to think of selling off the Empire’s First Duke as a consort to a duchy…”

‘A consort to a duchy?’ 

Kyrie stood frozen, then slowly approached the door.

Her instincts suddenly kicked in. She had a feeling she should hear this conversation, even if she didn’t know why.

The Duke’s subordinates, or servants, whispered in angry voices.

“Even His Majesty can’t actually send His Grace away like that.”

“Right. The soldiers on the southern front would all revolt.”

“And that’s not all. The border territories allied with Haswell would protest as well.”

“Calm down, everyone. You don’t really think His Grace would be dragged away like that, do you?”

A brief silence followed. They seemed deep in thought.

“Well, our Duke is more likely to do the dragging than be dragged.”

Someone replied calmly. 

Another added, as if raising the stakes, “Who knows, next he might just conquer the Duchy of Melua and wring the Duchess’ neck.”

“I can actually see him doing that, so it doesn’t even sound like a joke.”

“Do you think I’m joking?”

Then, a lighthearted laugh followed.

“Well, our Duke already…”

“Shh.”

Sudden silence fell into the air. Kyrie stood for a moment, catching her breath.

‘That seems like a rather dangerous conversation.’

They spoke so casually about wringing a monarch’s neck. But Kyrie couldn’t help but agree with them inwardly. The Duke she had encountered was someone who would break rather than bend, and would break anyone who tried to bend him. Seeing his sharp silver eyes, it was hard to shake that thought.

In that sense, perhaps he was similar to her. The only difference was that, unlike her, the Duke was powerful and still had choices.

‘Even so, to say such things about a Duchess…’

Kyrie wondered if she could use this as leverage against the Duke. Accuse him of treason, telling the Emperor that his servants were disrespectful. If the threat worked, would the Duke help her?

‘Ridiculous.’

Kyrie chuckled at the thought. A Duke who talked about wringing a Duchess’s neck… would he hesitate to do the same to a mere Lady? Especially a mad dog whom the Ducal family was eager to get rid of.

So, Kyrie quickly dismissed the idea and tried to understand what she had heard. The story about the Emperor potentially selling the Duke off as a consort was shocking, but considering the Emperor, she thought it might be possible.

‘Is there any way I can use this information?’

As Kyrie frantically gathered the overheard information, the young men continued their hushed conversation.

“If only His Grace found a bride first…”

Long sighs followed. Then someone said casually, but the words resonated with Kyrie more than anything else, 

“…His Majesty won’t approve unless it’s a considerably undesirable match.”

“Exactly. Unless it’s with a woman who would make people question his sanity just by associating with her.”

An undesirable match. A woman who would make people question his sanity.

A solution appeared. 

Kyrie’s heart pounded.

* * *

At the end of the hallway, where a cool air lingered, Dominique adjusted his cravat. l His butler, observing this, tilted his head inquisitively.

“What’s this? Feeling the heat, Your Grace?”

“Perhaps.”

Dominique realized he had tightened his collar only after his butler mentioned it. An involuntary chuckle escaped his lips.

‘How impudent.’

The image of Kyrie Ernberg groaning in his bed came to mind.

Yes, in his bed. All night long, she had imbued his bed with her scent and presence.

He hadn’t allowed any outside guests in his townhouse since becoming Duke. Mainly because he rarely visited the capital.

So, when he brought Kyrie, unconscious after hitting her head on his chest during her fall, there was nowhere else to lay her but his bedroom. The other guest rooms were barren, covered in white sheets.

In a way, bringing a woman into his bedroom was unavoidable.

‘Though bringing her here in the first place was my own impulse.’

Dominique recalled the moment he carried Kyrie to his mansion.

* * *

When he heard the commotion and screams from the Imperial Garden’s separate building… At first, he intended to ignore it. If it weren’t for someone shouting,

“Everyone, come see! The mad dog is causing trouble again!”

At those words, all the nobles in the garden rushed towards the scene with knowing smiles, eager for a spectacle.

Dominique, usually indifferent to gossip, changed his mind at the mention of “Mad Dog.”

‘Now that I think about it…’ 

He had dropped Kyrie off near that building.

Dominique walked briskly towards the entrance of the building. The nobles, who had been frowning as they pushed each other, stepped back in surprise upon seeing Dominique.

“Your Grace?”

As the crowd parted like the Red Sea…

“I told you to get out!”

Lexion shouted, pushing Kyrie Ernberg down the stairs. It all happened at once.

Time seemed to slow down. The expressions of the onlookers, a mixture of shock and amusement, flashed before his eyes. Kyrie had fallen from the top of the steep stairs.

A fall that could leave her dead or crippled.

‘…’ 

Dominique instinctively moved to where Kyrie would land. Even though he knew the moment Lexion pushed her that she was no longer usable against him.

She was a discarded card. Her death or injury wouldn’t benefit or harm him in any way.

Nevertheless, Dominique caught her.

There was no reason to, but there was no reason not to either. 

A momentary whim. 

The indulgence of a powerful man who could choose whatever he pleased.

That’s how it was at the time.