Chapter 2
“Father! Where is she? How dare she lay a hand on my things?!”
The person who stormed into the study, throwing the door open without hesitation, was Cecilia.
“Cecil. Didn’t your tutor ever teach you to knock?”
“This isn’t the time for that! She stole my money!”
Cecilia’s face was as scarlet as her fiery red hair as she fumed with rage.
A moment later, Marchioness Melissa Crowde entered the study with her usual graceful composure.
“I heard the girl never returned from her volunteer work at the monastery. Is that true, Roger?”
Her voice was sharp, yet almost completely devoid of emotion. The Marquis of Crowde felt an involuntary chill run down his spine.
“We’re searching for her now. There hasn’t been any news yet, so both of you should have dinner first. I’ll have to remain in my study.”
The marquis brushed a hand through his slightly disheveled hair.
“And Cecil, why exactly did you need emergency funds in the first place? If your allowance isn’t enough, then spend less. And if it’s money you can’t explain the source of, then you shouldn’t be spending it at all.”
“What does that have to do with anything?! The thief was that bi—”
“Cecilia.”
Melissa cut her daughter off with a stern look.
“Watch your language. Go to your room. I have something to discuss with your father.”
Having been scolded by both parents, Cecilia puffed out her cheeks in resentment before stomping out of the study.
The Marquis of Crowde let out a weary sigh and poured himself another glass of brandy. Its bittersweet aroma slowly spread through the room.
“You wished to speak with me, my lady?”
Though his tone and expression were noticeably irritable, Melissa seemed entirely accustomed to her husband’s temperament.
“Do you truly intend to marry that girl to Duke Carlisle?”
The marquis frowned.
Melissa wore one of those unreadable expressions that concealed every thought behind it.
He had always despised that look.
“I’ve already answered that question. Why ask it again? Say what you’re trying to say instead of dancing around it.”
“Very well.” She smiled faintly. “I’m simply curious why you’ve suddenly taken an interest in her. As the servants have been whispering, I doubt you’re selling her off to that man just because you want a duke for a son-in-law.”
“The Crowde family has no need for such things.”
The marquis let out a derisive snort, as though the idea wasn’t even worth responding to.
“Exactly. Which makes it all the stranger. Why send a girl you’ve neglected for over ten years to a ducal house? You arranged this marriage proposal yourself, didn’t you? Otherwise, how would the lord of distant Carlisle even know she exists? She’s never once set foot in high society.”
The word neglected made the marquis’s expression darken.
“I’ll repeat myself one last time. The proposal came from the duke’s side. As for how they learned about Eliana… I don’t know. Besides, the girl had to find a suitable marriage eventually.”
Melissa suddenly laughed.
It was an unmistakably mocking laugh.
“So you do think about her once in a while. She’s still your own blood, after all. You brought her here, hid her away like a bird locked inside a cage, and raised her out of everyone’s sight. Ah, I suppose having an illegitimate daughter is too embarrassing to show the world… but leaving her to grow old alone would weigh on your conscience.”
Her venomous words shattered the last of the marquis’s restraint.
With a furious motion, he hurled his crystal glass across the room.
It exploded against the wall in a shower of glittering shards.
“Watch your tongue, Melissa. I have never once claimed that girl is my blood. Leave. I don’t wish to exchange another word with you.”
Melissa stared at the shattered crystal for a moment before quietly turning toward the door.
“No one in this mansion believes she’s adopted, Roger. No one except you.”
She paused briefly.
“Well, regardless… I won’t complain as long as she’s gone from my sight. Whether that’s through running away… or through marriage.”
The study fell silent once more after she left.
The Marquis of Crowde collapsed heavily into his chair. His fists clenched so tightly that the blood nearly stopped flowing before he slowly forced himself to relax.
An illegitimate child…
Yes… if only she truly were.
If only she really were my daughter…
He gazed out the window, where darkness had already begun swallowing the evening sky.
“Let’s stay here for the night.”
Pito stopped in front of an old inn that looked as though it had stood there for decades and opened the door for Ellie.
The moment they stepped inside, the pungent smell of strong rum assaulted her nose.
Though it was only early evening, drunken patrons were already shouting over one another throughout the common room.
The lively chaos couldn’t have been more different from the lonely square outside, where silence had hung so heavily it felt almost eerie.
Ellie instinctively froze at the entrance.
Only after hearing Pito clear his throat behind her did she force herself to move.
“I know you’re not used to places like this, but don’t make it obvious. It won’t do you any favors. Let’s get something to eat first.”
Not used to it?
She had never been anywhere like this in her life.
Still, Ellie kept the thought to herself and quietly followed him to a table.
Pito casually ordered several dishes, and before long, the curious glances the locals had been casting toward the unfamiliar travelers gradually disappeared.
“So… where are we going tomorrow?”
Now somewhat accustomed to the constant noise around her, Eliana finally asked.
Bron had never explained the journey in detail. Aside from their final destination, she knew almost nothing.
“Before dawn, we’ll head to Azulen Harbor and board a ship. From there, we’ll sail to Seren Island, where the Serafiano Monastery is located.”
The Serafiano Monastery.
The name alone made Eliana draw a deep breath.
“So… they’ll really accept me if I have a letter of recommendation?”
“A recommendation letter?”
Pito looked genuinely puzzled.
Ellie quickly took the letter Bron had written from inside her coat.
After glancing over the wrinkled pages she’d hurriedly stuffed away before leaving, Pito gave a small chuckle.
“Well… if Bron said so, then I guess that’s how it works. How would I know?”
His indifferent answer made Ellie shrink slightly.
Was I making myself look too desperate?
Soon the food arrived.
Everything placed before her was unfamiliar, though it smelled surprisingly appetizing.
But after spending the entire day trembling with anxiety and uncertainty, she found herself with almost no appetite.
“I should warn you now,” Pito said while tearing off a piece of bread. “We’re boarding a supply ship bound for the monastery. My name’s on the crew list, so I can move around freely. Yours isn’t. That means you’ll have to stay hidden for most of the voyage.”
He looked directly at her.
“In other words… this is your last proper meal for a while. At least finish your soup.”
Ellie nodded obediently and slowly spooned at the soup.
As she ate, her appetite gradually returned.
Even so, she set the spoon down before long.
She feared that if she forced herself to eat too much in such unfamiliar surroundings, she’d only make herself sick.
Pito clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction before calling over the innkeeper.
“If you’re finished, head upstairs. Show her this key, and she’ll take you to your room.”
Taking the room key, Ellie followed the innkeeper to the second floor.
The room she was shown contained little more than an old bed and an oversized wardrobe that seemed absurdly large for such a cramped space.
The sheets smelled faintly of aged cheese.
The mattress sagged badly in the middle, and even when Eliana carefully perched on the very edge, it creaked loudly beneath her.
She sighed softly.
Opening the window to let in some fresh air, she caught the scent of rain-soaked earth drifting inside.
The cool autumn night brushed sharply against her cheeks.
For some reason, unease settled deep in her chest.
Closing her eyes, Eliana found herself thinking back to everything that had happened over the past few days.
A few days earlier, her father had unexpectedly summoned her to his private library.
When the butler delivered the message, she cautiously asked if he knew why.
He simply shook his head.
The Crowde estate’s library was built behind the marquis’s study, a room where almost no one besides the marquis himself was ever permitted to enter.
What could this possibly be about…?
To begin with, it was rare for her father to call for her at all.
No…
Even rare wasn’t the right word.
He had never shown the slightest interest in what she did or how she lived.
The wooden door before her wasn’t especially thick.
Yet somehow, it felt as imposing as a towering stone wall.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in.”
She carefully pushed the door open.
Bright sunlight poured through the windows, forcing her to squint.
Unlike the lavishly decorated study outside, the library was simple, furnished only with what was necessary.
The scent of old paper lingered in the air.
In one corner stood a large framed painting, hidden beneath a cloth cover.
The Marquis of Crowde was standing beside the window.
“You sent for me, Father.”
“Yes. Sit down for a moment. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
Only one chair sat beside the table.
After hesitating awkwardly for a moment, Ellie quietly took her seat.
“It’ll be quicker if I show you this first.”
The marquis handed her a stack of elegant papers made from fine parchment.
Across the front, embossed in gleaming gold letters, were the words:
Marriage Contract
According to imperial law, married couples were required to submit a marriage contract to the Grand Temple, where it would be notarized by a priest.
In the past, a noble marriage had not been considered legally valid until that procedure was completed.
As the Grand Temple’s authority gradually weakened over the years, however, the process became little more than a formal declaration.
There was no longer any penalty for failing to register a marriage, and many now regarded the contract as little more than a symbolic oath before the gods—a promise to faithfully fulfill the duties and responsibilities of marriage.
Even so, many ancient noble families still treated the marriage contract as a sacred tradition.
The House of Crowde was one of them.
Confused as to why her father had given her such a document, Eliana slowly turned each page.
Then her hand suddenly froze.
“Father… this is…”
On the very last page was an elegant signature written in bold, graceful script.
Tristan Carlisle
Beneath it were her own name…
And an empty space awaiting her signature.
“Two months ago,” the marquis said quietly, “a marriage proposal arrived.”
He looked directly at her.
“It came from the Lord of Carlisle—Duke Tristan Carlisle.”
“You may have heard of him.”
