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T/N: People in the North was never given any chance to breathe
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Chapter 88
After a brief exchange of greetings, Summer left.
Damian remained where he was, gazing up at the sky where snowflakes drifted down. Though he knew class would begin soon, he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Then, at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps behind him, Damian instinctively turned, drawing his sword from his hip.
“A rather aggressive way to say hello.”
It was the Saintess. She smiled lightly, unfazed. The moment Damian confirmed her identity, he immediately sheathed his sword.
“This is our first meeting. Hello, Young Lord.”
“…It’s an honor, Saintess. Please forgive my rudeness.”
At his words, the woman waved her hands dismissively.
“Saintess is too formal. Please, just call me Beth.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I must decline.”
Damian firmly drew a line and took a step back.
“If you’ve lost your way, I’ll call for a maid to assist you.”
Beth, who had been observing Damian with a faintly unreadable expression, gave a soft smile.
“No need. I insisted on looking around by myself so as not to take up too much of the steward’s time.”
“I see. I have a class to attend, so I must take my leave.”
Before Beth could respond, Damian had already walked away. She stood there, watching his retreating figure until it disappeared from view.
— — —
‘How strange.’
Though Damian had retreated to avoid the Saintess, he found himself unwilling to get close to her for reasons he couldn’t quite name. Still, he couldn’t simply leave her alone outside, so he summoned a maid and instructed her to go to Beth’s location before heading to class.
“Thank you for your efforts, Young Lord.”
Baron Nouvelle began tidying up as the lesson ended. Just then, someone knocked urgently at the door.
“My apologies for the interruption.”
“No need, class just ended. What’s the matter?”
At Baron Nouvelle’s question, the attendant bowed deeply.
“Well… Lady Beth has gone missing.”
“Beth?”
Damian and Baron Nouvelle exchanged glances. Though the Baron did not know the Saintess’s real name, the situation made it clear that Beth was the Saintess.
“Missing? But I sent a maid to her.”
“When the maid arrived, the place was empty. She assumed Lady Beth had returned to the estate and came back herself.”
“…Where is my father?”
Damian and Baron Nouvelle immediately went to find Edmund.
— — —
Having already been informed, Edmund had dispatched people to search for the Saintess.
“Father.”
“I heard you were the last to see her.”
“That’s correct. Since I had class, I sent a maid… but she disappeared in the meantime.”
“Sigh…”
Edmund let out a quiet breath. This was troublesome. If anything happened to the Saintess, the temple would find every possible excuse to raise issue. He promptly gave orders to Alec.
“Search the outer wall perimeter first.”
The estate itself was secure, but monsters occasionally appeared near the outer walls, despite the protective barrier.
“I’ll assist as well.”
The Black Knights headed for the wall.
Damian, meanwhile, returned to where he had first encountered Beth. But the freshly fallen snow had already covered any tracks, and he left with nothing gained.
His steps came to a halt in front of a frozen lake. Snow blanketed the surface, hiding what lay beneath, yet he couldn’t look away. Then, sensing a presence, he turned his head. A short walk away, a greenhouse came into view.
Inside, someone was standing. Damian narrowed his eyes. The greenhouse was not a place to enter freely. With Summer already gone, no one should have been inside.
“…!”
Curiosity led Damian inside, but he stopped in his tracks as if hitting an invisible wall.
“Young Lord?”
“…This place is not meant to be entered so casually.”
“Oh, really? Then I’ve overstepped.”
“It’s… fine. Everyone is out searching for you, Saintess.”
“Oh dear, I forgot to say something. I’ll take my leave now.”
Damian blankly watched Beth walk away. Just moments ago, she had taken off her robe. Revealing hair as dark as his and the same gray eyes.
* * *
The incident was ultimately dismissed as a simple misunderstanding. Beth had gone to the greenhouse without informing anyone.
“I caused so much trouble for everyone… I’m terribly sorry.”
Edmund stifled a sigh as the Saintess came all the way to his office to apologize.
“It’s fine.”
He pressed his fingers firmly against his throbbing brow. His headaches had worsened since yesterday, perhaps due to how much the Saintess weighed on his mind.
Reaching for his cigarette case, Edmund froze, realizing she was still in the room. He clenched his fist and held himself back.
“I’m busy, so you should leav—”
Just as he raised his head, a hand reached toward him. He grabbed it instinctively.
“…What are you doing?”
“I, I just thought… your headache seemed severe, and I wondered if I might be of help…”
Beth shrank back under the chill in his voice. Meanwhile, Edmund was rattled. For someone so vigilant, he hadn’t even realized she’d come that close.
“I thought I might offer something, as an apology…”
“Father, I have a question—”
The door burst open. Their eyes met. Edmund, realizing how this must look, quickly let go of her wrist.
“Ah, Young Lord.”
Beth took several steps back and bowed deeply.
“Then I’ll take my leave, Duke. Next time, please do allow me.”
As she exited, Damian finally spoke, a beat too late.
“…The door was open, and I entered without thinking.”
He had meant to explain it wasn’t what it looked like, but Damian spoke first.
“Here are the documents. If you’ll excuse me…”
He placed the papers down and swiftly left the room. Edmund considered calling out to explain but was stopped by the return of the headache. Instead, he reached for a cigarette with a grimace.
Time passed, and the pain gradually eased. Unconsciously, he had lit a third one already. The room was now thick with smoke.
“Your Excellency, it’s Johann.”
“Come in.”
Edmund stubbed out his cigarette and opened a window. A cold wind blew in, chasing away the haze. Johann flinched at the chill but quickly stepped forward.
“Report.”
Edmund stared out at the snow-covered world.
“We found slave traders near the outer wall, seemingly killed by monsters. It appears the Saintess may have escaped from there.”
“Any survivors?”
“Barely breathing. But it’s touch and go.”
“Don’t tell the Saintess. And make sure word doesn’t get out.”
Johann approached and handed Edmund a letter.
“This just arrived by royal courier.”
Edmund’s brow twitched at the imperial seal stamped on it.
“…He asks us to send someone to escort a negotiator to the north.”
“A negotiator?”
Johann blinked, having half-expected a declaration of war.
“This is… unexpected.”
For the Emperor to initiate negotiations was tantamount to bowing his head. He had always loathed the idea, claiming negotiations were a coward’s way to avoid war.
In his youth, the Emperor had fought on the front lines himself, and had never once engaged in diplomatic talks. He would rather behead envoys and hang their heads in the palace. Even in his old age, that cruelty hadn’t softened, only sharpened as he grew weaker.
And now, that Emperor wanted a negotiation?
“Still, better this than a prolonged standoff.”
The letter gave a deadline, three days from now.
“Send Chris and a few Black Knights along for escort.”
“Yes, understood.”
Even after Johann’s report ended, Edmund didn’t dismiss him. Instead, he drummed his fingers on the window frame. Just as Johann opened his mouth to speak, Edmund beat him to it.
“How is Daphne?”
“No new reports. It seems her condition is stable.”
“…I see.”
“I’ll take my leave now.”
Left alone, Edmund stood in silence as the bitter wind brushed against his cheek, doing his best to suppress the unease rising in his chest. And just like that, three days quickly passed.