Chapter 31
“Is the Duke all right? He hurt his shoulder…….”
“They say he received treatment immediately, so he should be fine.”
Agnes absentmindedly fidgeted with her fingers.
Even now, she couldn’t believe that Lionel had rushed into the collapsing theater to save her.
She knew.
That he hadn’t done it because it was her.
Lionel was the most soldier-like soldier of all, and protecting civilians was simply what he had to do.
So no matter who had been inside the theater, Lionel would have made the same choice.
Her head understood it perfectly.
Yet her heart seemed to think otherwise.
The places where Lionel’s large hands had touched kept throbbing.
‘Why do I feel like this?’
The heavy scent clinging to Lionel’s jacket lingered beneath her skin. It was strong enough to make her feel as though she were still held in his arms.
Hoping her trembling insides would settle, Agnes toyed with the perfectly fine blanket.
Then she let out a small sigh.
With a moment of calm, Floris’s words had come back to her.
“Thanks to you, I was driven from the principal dancer position and ended up like this. Are you satisfied?”
She had already heard through gossip that the imperial principal dancer had been replaced.
But why had Floris blamed her for it.
This was the first time Agnes had even faced her directly.
And besides…
‘It sounded like Lionel knew the reason.’
Agnes quietly pulled the blanket down. Then she looked at Simon, who stood beside her.
Since Simon managed all of Lionel’s schedules, perhaps he knew something.
“What is it, Agnes?”
Feeling her gaze, Simon asked immediately.
“Do you happen to know about Floris Loren, the former imperial principal dancer?”
“Yes. She’s so famous that I know of her.”
“Is there… some problem between Miss Floris and his Grace?”
“A problem?”
“Well… Miss Floris said something strange.”
Simon stroked his mustache.
Just as she wondered if the question was too forward.
Unexpectedly, Simon readily resolved her curiosity.
“His Grace overheard Miss Floris speaking carelessly about you.”
He paused briefly before adding calmly.
“As a result, all of Miss Floris’s patronage was cut off. I heard that in the end, she stepped down from the principal dancer position.”
Agnes’s eyes widened.
“Did His Grace do that himself?”
“Yes. Insulting you was equivalent to insulting the Valheim ducal house, so it was punishment for that. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen his Grace that angry.”
It was already widely known in high society. From Simon’s perspective, there was no reason to hide it.
Only the young mistress before him was unaware of the news.
Well, with no window to the world beyond the newspapers regularly delivered to the mansion, it was no wonder she learned late.
“I… see.”
Agnes’s bright eyes slowly turned.
That Lionel had gotten angry on her behalf against those who insulted her…
‘He did that for me even though he must hate me.’
Despite the deep-seated hatred in his heart, Lionel had stepped forward for her twice.
With Floris, and at the theater.
Even if the reason was “for the honor of the ducal house,” the fact remained unchanged.
‘Rael, you’re still kind and gentle.’
Agnes’s fingertips resting on the blanket trembled faintly.
Like awakening a long-forgotten sensation, it seeped into her heart.
The old Rael, who had offered kindness with a stern face, came vividly back to life in her memory.
Back then too, Lionel had gotten angry at the trading company adults who tormented Agnes.
Her chest ached sharply.
Agnes instinctively realized.
She would never be able to let go of her expectations toward Lionel.
Her heart, starved for warmth, would inevitably harbor hope even in the occasional kindness he tossed like alms.
While tracing the warmth of kindness tasted in childhood memories.
It was a truly wretched yet sweet fate.
“But what is this? It looks like shoes.”
Simon, organizing Agnes’s clothes and belongings, pointed to a white box.
“They’re shoes worn for dancing on stage.”
“Ah, I see. Ahem, I’m not very knowledgeable about such things.”
Simon awkwardly smoothed his mustache.
“They’re pretty shoes.”
“…Yes.”
The toe shoes gleamed white, reflecting the hospital room light.
Gazing at that sight, the corners of Agnes’s mouth rose ever so slightly.
‘Perhaps… if I try harder. Even if not like before with Rael, we might become a little closer.’
She didn’t wish for much.
Just that he wouldn’t frown when he saw her.
That when they occasionally met, they could exchange a small greeting.
Wouldn’t it be okay to hope for just that much.
With that, she felt she could smile even while carrying these ruined legs.
The hope she thought had died quietly revived in her heart.
But to fulfill even this small wish, there was something she had to resolve first.
The existence of her family, who had brought tragedy to Lionel.
‘I have to tell Rael what Father and Sister did.’
Agnes resolved inwardly.
Until now, she had foolishly held back out of lingering family affection,
But today, she clearly realized.
If she didn’t stop what Father and Sister were doing, greater harm would come.
She had to tell Lionel all the truth before such a catastrophe occurred.
Even if she had only circumstantial suspicion.
Agnes tightly gripped the edge of the pillow.
Simon had definitely said Lionel would come here soon.
Perhaps that’s why.
Her heart jumped at every footstep seeping through the door crack.
A shadow flickered beyond the frosted glass of the hospital room door.
“Rael…?”
The name slipped out with trembling lips. Had Lionel come already.
Agnes took a deep breath.
When that door opened and Lionel entered, she would tell him immediately. All the truth.
However, the one who came for Agnes was not Lionel.
Bang!
The firmly closed door was torn open as if ripped off.
Soldiers in gray uniforms poured in and roughly shouted at Agnes.
“Duchess, you must come with us.”
“What is this behavior! This is the hospital room where the Valheim duchess is staying. Leave immediately. What were the knights outside doing!”
Simon stepped forward and shouted.
Yet the soldiers expressionlessly pushed his shoulders.
The ducal knights guarding the door also stood back with troubled expressions.
“Evidence has emerged linking you to this terrorism. So come along.”
“Wait, I didn’t do anything—!”
Before Agnes could finish, the soldiers dragged her from the bed.
Her small bare feet, without shoes, were dragged across the cold hospital floor.
Roughly cramming her into the wheelchair provided by the hospital, the soldiers flung the room door wide open.
Then flashes burst from the end of the corridor.
Click, click.
Amid blinding flashes, reporters shutters rained down.
“What’s going on?”
“Who knows, just shoot first.”
Countless people watched Agnes, yet aside from Simon, no one stepped forward to stop it.
Not even the ducal house people.
***
“Ugh…!”
Forcibly pulled from the wheelchair, Agnes was shoved into an iron chair.
From that coercive treatment, the cold of metal transmitted up her back.
Thanks to her duchess status, she avoided restraints, but no other consideration was given.
The underground air was damp.
Under the faintly flickering bulb, peeled wallpaper absorbed moisture.
The sound of iron chair legs scraping the floor filled the silent room.
With tense signs in the unfamiliar environment, Agnes’s transparent pale gray eyes, like glass beads, busily scanned surroundings.
Beyond the thick glass,
Lionel silently watched the scene.
An unlit cigarillo slowly rotated between his fingertips.
“Are you going to leave it like that?”
At Kalt’s question, Lionel raised his brows fiercely instead of answering.
A faint light flashed in his blue eyes.
Those eyes were damp and complex, like underground moisture.
“Not only snatching the Rebelt investigative authority right before our eyes, but treating the duchess like that. This is clearly an insult to you, Colonel.”
Kalt’s protest was firm, but Lionel’s expression showed no change.
“Speak accurately. I’m the one who said I’d observe the interrogation process.”
Tak, the cigarillo tip struck the glass window.
“So for now, just leave it.”
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