Chapter 21
Roshanne cut River off, her tone sharp as she addressed the knight.
“So, you haven’t been sacked yet?”
She already knew the knight hadn’t been fired—she’d heard as much—but Roshanne asked again, feigning ignorance.
“…I confessed everything to His Grace and begged to stay. As a sign of my remorse, I offered to forgo my salary for six months.”
Not a bad outcome, Roshanne thought.
“You should be grateful for the Duke’s mercy. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t just lose your pay for six months—you’d be out the door for good.”
Though she didn’t truly mean it, Roshanne muttered the words with a prickly edge.
“So, why are you here?”
“I heard you haven’t found a knight to fight in the duel yet… Is that true?”
“Yeah, it’s true. …And?”
He’s not about to say he’ll step in, is he? Roshanne’s brow furrowed with unease.
The knight took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and clenched his fists tightly.
“I’ll be your sword and face Sir Mark in the duel.”
“No! My thirty million gold!”
The moment the knight declared his resolve, Roshanne’s voice thundered like a bolt of lightning, her expression fierce.
“…Pardon?”
“No, it’s just… I had a terrifying vision of thirty million gold vanishing into thin air.”
Roshanne, who had been leaning forward, rubbed her forehead and sank back into the sofa.
“Forget it. I’ll find a knight myself, so don’t worry about it.”
“But I heard the duel is tomorrow—”
“And?” Roshanne cut in coldly. Her face was an impassive mask, devoid of emotion, chilling in its detachment.
“What’s going to change if you fight? How is it any different from losing because we couldn’t find a knight?”
“That’s…” The knight fell silent. He couldn’t bring himself to say he’d win—not when he didn’t even believe he could defeat Sir Mark.
“If you think you can just fill the role to cover up your past mistakes, knowing we’ll lose anyway, then you’re not needed.”
Roshanne waved her hand dismissively. Shame colored the knight’s face.
“I… I was worried about you, my lady, since you haven’t found a knight for tomorrow’s duel…”
“If you were really worried about me, you wouldn’t have shown up the day before the duel, acting like you had no choice. You would’ve come earlier. You would’ve spent the time we had left trying to figure out how to beat Sir Mark.”
“…”
“And if you lose, you’ll just say it’s because you were chosen at the last minute and didn’t have time to train properly, right?”
The knight, struck to the core, couldn’t muster a response.
Roshanne’s gaze swept over him. He had trained hard in the past few days, at least—compared to before, he seemed somewhat more capable.
If only he could keep up that effort without faltering.
“I’ll give you credit for mustering the courage to step forward. But that’s as far as it goes.”
“…”
“If you want to be more than that, work harder. Then, maybe one day, I’ll let you stand in that arena. But right now? That place isn’t yours.”
Roshanne rose from the sofa.
At that moment, a knock came at the parlor door.
Knock, knock.
River, who had been watching the tense exchange, opened the door.
“My lady,” the butler said.
“His Grace, Archduke Barpheus, has arrived.”
Finally. Roshanne’s lips curved into a smile.
“Send him in. Tell him I’ve been eagerly awaiting his arrival.”
Roshanne dismissed the knight. Despite his resolve, the knight left the room, visibly deflated by the weight of the moment.
“My lady, if the person you’ve been waiting for is here…” River began.
“Yes,” Roshanne nodded.
The parlor door swung open, and Cheyton stepped inside. River ushered the others out, leaving the two alone to speak freely.
“Duchess,” Cheyton greeted.
“I’ve been wondering when you’d show up since you rushed off claiming you were busy last time.”
Cheyton, about to sit on the sofa, froze in surprise.
“You say things like that so casually…”
Despite his resolve to stay composed, Cheyton found himself swept up in Roshanne’s words from the very first sentence. Clearing his throat, he struggled to maintain his cool demeanor as he studied her.
“Are you alright?”
“What’s that?”
“I heard Crown Prince Joseph came looking for you after I left.”
“Oh, right.”
“He probably told you to stay away from me.”
“He did.”
Roshanne nodded casually, as if it were no big deal. At her response, Cheyton’s face crumpled in an instant.
“…I was so caught up in my own mess that I didn’t consider your situation.”
A crease formed between Cheyton’s brows, which had only just smoothed out.
Anyone who got too close to Cheyton inevitably faced scrutiny from the imperial family. The Emperor didn’t want Cheyton’s influence to grow, and in fact, wished him dead.
That was why the nobles treated Cheyton like a plague, avoiding and fearing him.
Cheyton was used to it.
He’d only briefly forgotten that reality, caught up in the fleeting relief of suppressing his madness.
And Roshanne? She was the daughter of the Railaten family, a cornerstone of the Emperor’s faction. The pressure on her would be even greater.
“I’ll deal with the curse of the mad dragon myself. As for the secret…”
Cheyton hesitated.
Would asking her to keep it a secret even matter? She’d probably do whatever she wanted anyway.
Worrying about it, huh?
Did he actually believe she’d keep his secret if he asked? A self-deprecating smile flickered across Cheyton’s face.
“Whether you keep it or not, that’s up to you, Duchess…”
“Fifty million gold. That’s you, isn’t it, Archduke?”
Roshanne cut him off with a question, her voice sharp and direct.
“…What?”
Cheyton stared at her, dumbfounded. She was grinning ear to ear, as if she hadn’t even heard what he’d just said.
“Not many people are betting on the Railaten family to win. Lady Fortlen might become the future Crown Princess, so her side’s tied to the Emperor’s faction too. And there aren’t many who’d wager that kind of money anonymously.”
Roshanne nodded with certainty.
How did she know?
Cheyton pressed his lips shut, his eyes darting. He’d been so careful to place the bet anonymously…
“Archduke, why did you come here today?”
“What?”
“If it was just about that, a letter would’ve sufficed. Or you could’ve sent someone to deliver the message. Why come in person, today of all days?”
He hadn’t expected her to ask that.
Standing before this woman, Cheyton felt as if he could hide nothing—like he was standing bare, stripped of all defenses.
He frowned, his lips parting.
“…Tomorrow’s the duel.”
Roshanne’s grin widened, as if she already knew what he was going to say.
Had anyone ever seen through him so completely? Most people just wanted to look away.
It felt strange. Cheyton let out a heavy sigh.
“I heard you still haven’t found a knight to fight in the duel.”
“That’s right.”
“Normally, you’d choose a knight from your own house, but… if you haven’t picked one yet…”
“Uh-huh, go on.”
Roshanne nodded eagerly, as if she knew exactly what he was leading up to but was waiting for him to say it himself.
It felt like she was humoring him—or maybe treating him like a child. The sensation was utterly bewildering.
“If you haven’t chosen one yet, I was thinking of lending you a knight from the Barpheus Archducal House…”
“No way!”
Roshanne cut him off with a shout, her voice sharp with indignation.
Cheyton’s eyes widened in shock.
What? Wasn’t she just listening patiently, indulging him like a child a moment ago?
“That’s not what I was waiting for.”
Roshanne clicked her tongue, shaking her head at Cheyton’s misstep.
She pointed a finger at the man sitting across from her—Cheyton.
“I want you to fight in the duel, Archduke.”
“What?!”
Cheyton’s voice rose, a rare crack in his composure.
“Me? You want me to fight in the duel?”
“Yup.”
Roshanne nodded again, as nonchalantly as ever.
“Archduke Barpheus is the commander of the Imperial Third Knights, the ‘Shadow Knights,’ isn’t he?”
“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I—”
“You follow the Emperor’s orders, leading knights into wars and civil conflicts. That makes you a knight, doesn’t it?”
Roshanne tilted her head, as if to say : What’s the problem?
She wasn’t wrong. Cheyton did serve as a knight of the imperial house, and technically, any knight could be chosen for a duel.
“Hah.”
Cheyton shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness, and let out a sigh.
“Did you even hear what I said earlier, Duchess?”
“I heard you.”
“No, I don’t think you did.”
Cheyton’s voice sharpened.
“I came here to offer the best compensation I could, as an apology for putting you in a difficult position.”
“Hmm. But honestly, this isn’t your problem to worry about, Archduke. It’s between the imperial family and the Railaten house.”
“You still don’t get it. Getting close to me won’t do you any good.”
“Always thinking about others first, huh?”
“What?”
Her murmured words, heavy with the weight of years, caught Cheyton off guard. He looked up, startled, but Roshanne was as calm as ever, as if she hadn’t just said something profound.
“Then make it worth my while, Archduke.”
“Me?”
There was a strange undercurrent of expectation in Cheyton’s voice as he echoed her words.
He still remembered the kiss they’d shared in this very parlor, under the pretense of needing his help.
If she meant making it worth her while…
Cheyton leaned forward, his urgency betraying him.
“My thirty million gold and your fifty million gold!”
But at Roshanne’s next words, he squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation.
