When Dehart regained consciousness, the knights had already brought him back to the lodging.
“We apologize. We were all deceived by that woman’s words…”
Apparently, after stabbing him, Denisa walked out and calmly told the guards:
[The Duke wanted to read Madam’s diary alone.]
The knights, of course, were suspicious at first, but Denisa was quick to dispel their doubts.
[I was thinking of stopping by the post office for a moment. Could one of you accompany me?]
And naturally, that knight also fell victim to Denisa’s sharp pen. Just like that, two strong men had been brought down by the cunning of a middle-aged woman.
“We have no excuses.”
The knight at the front bowed his head deeply, bandages wrapped around him—just like Dehart.
“This is beyond ridiculous,” Dehart said, his golden eyes, filled with exhaustion, hidden behind his eyelids. “…No, perhaps it’s for the best.”
The knights, who were bowing, blinked in surprise. They had expected that Dehart, upon regaining his senses, would erupt in fury.
But the man neither raged nor lost his composure.
He looked like someone who had finally found his way out of a mist-filled labyrinth.
“From this moment on, consider Denisa Rozan an accomplice in the Duchess’s murder and hunt her down.”
“Are you saying we should proceed officially?”
“Yes. I need to understand why the nursemaid who supposedly cherished Sebelia so deeply… would go to such lengths, risking so much, to avoid revealing the truth.”
As Dehart rose from his seat, he added:
“My aunt and uncle tried to get rid of her in Inverness because she was ‘no longer needed.’ If that’s the case…why did she do it?”
The hollow question echoed in the air.
Dehart’s eyes were dry and weary; his heart ached at the thought of Sebelia possibly being betrayed by someone she trusted deeply.
“Investigate Denisa’s personal affairs. Check if her family has recently faced financial difficulties or if anyone is suffering from a serious illness. I need to return to that house.”
He needed to see if anything was left behind.
The knights tried to dissuade him, insisting that he needed rest, but he refused to listen.
“I’m fine.”
Without hesitation, he moved his legs, only to feel a terrible pain spreading from his side. His neck stiffened, and cold sweat dripped down as the excruciating pain overtook him.
“Damn it…”
“It’s primarily a sleep-inducing poison, but it seems to be mixed with other substances.”
Ilay, the knight who had been poisoned in the same way, spoke with a pale face.
He was Ryan’s cousin and had been personally assigned to Dehart by the latter. According to Ryan, Ilay had a bright future ahead of him… but after this incident, it seemed his prospects were no longer as promising.
“The poison isn’t life-threatening, but it contains several substances that cause significant pain,” the knight continued.
“….”
“Just to be safe, I tested the antidote on myself first, and it worked well. Would it be alright if I removed your bandages and applied it for you, My Lord?”
Dehart clenched his teeth as he listened to Ilay’s shameless words, which bore a striking resemblance to Ryan’s.
***
After applying an ointment to alleviate the pain and kicking Ilay once for good measure, Dehart headed straight for Denisa’s house.
It’d be nice if I could find something of Sebelia’s while I’m at it.
The chances of that were extremely slim, given Denisa’s unsettling connection to Sebelia’s death… but he couldn’t help but hope.
Unfortunately, there were hardly any belongings of Sebelia left at Hylend Hall. No, rather than saying there were few, it would be more accurate to say there were none at all.
“I’ve really been through it all, thanks to my oh-so-noble aunt,” Dehart muttered.
That’s right. While he had been frantically riding his horse after hearing of Sebelia’s death from Ryan, Gwen was diligently erasing all traces of her. Claiming that the belongings of a cursed woman could not be left as they were, she burned Sebelia’s clothes, books, and all other possessions.
I managed to save a pendant with her portrait in it… but…
It wasn’t enough.
Overwhelmed with regret, Dehart chastised himself as he turned a corner.
At that moment, he spotted a postman placing something into a mailbox before walking away.
“……”
How fortunate.
After confirming the postman was gone, Dehart casually approached the mailbox and opened it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Taking out a palm-sized envelope, his pupils dilated sharply.
[Peter Hansen]
“…Ha.”
A harsh breath burst out of his lips, as if he’d been desperately holding it in. A shiver ran through him, from head to toe.
Peter Hansen. He was the doctor who signed Sebelia’s death certificate. A mystery man who disappeared like a mirage, leaving behind only a single document.
And now I’m finding out that this doctor has been exchanging correspondence with Denisa?
Recalling the servants’ testimony about how no one could remember who had brought the doctor in, a bitter smirk appeared on Dehart’s face.
This confirmed that Denisa was holding onto some sinister secret related to Sebelia’s death.
“I see. With someone as inscrutable as that woman, it’s no wonder I was foolish enough to let my guard down.”
The sneer disappeared, replaced by a neutral expression, as he tore open the envelope without any hesitation.
Unfortunately, contrary to his expectations, the letter’s content was disappointingly mundane, almost laughably so.
[The air here is so nice. Recently, I’ve grown closer to some of the other doctors. They…]
Unless “air” or “doctors” were some kind of code, the letter was nothing more than a casual note to a close friend.
“Tch.”
Dehart stared at the letter for a long while. But no matter how much he scrutinized it, the fact remained that there was nothing of value written in the thing.
[…So I’ve decided to check out the place said to be hidden where the tallest hill meets the mountain.]
Except for this one little thing.
Just then, one of the knights who had been silently waiting for his instructions approached him and said;
“Your Grace, we’re going to search the house.”
Dehart, still inspecting the letter, nodded slowly.
“Go ahead.”
Soon after, the sound of doors being forcefully thrown open echoed as the knights immediately began their search.
Turning away, Dehart ordered as he started walking;
“Prepare the carriage.”
“Are you returning to the North, My Lord?”
“No. I think I’ll take a look at this Southeastern region with its oh-so-pleasant air.”
Then, Dehart stomped off, flicking the letter in his hand.
***
Located in the southeastern part of the empire, was Serpredi, a city famous for its high hills, ancient ruins built atop those hills, and its sacred temple. However, this didn’t mean it was a bustling tourist spot full of visitors.
No one would be impressed by some heaps of stones from ancient ruins or a shabby temple barely worth a glance.
“Still, it’s a nice place because it’s quiet and serene. The residents and the priests are all kind and simple-hearted,” the doctor said subtly as he handed over the last prescription, almost as if to encourage her choice. “The air is fresh and clean, so it will surely be good for your health.”
Perhaps moved by her decision to seek treatment, the doctor’s eyes glistened with water.
“By the way, do you remember how to find the doctor I introduced you to and what to bring?”
Sebelia nodded.
She still woke up in the morning with numbness in her fingertips and no strength in her feet, but…….
It’s better than having no hope at all; she thought.
As Sebelia left the doctor’s office, she closed her eyes, letting the gentle sunlight caress her face.
“Haaa…”
A shiver ran through her body at the sensation of being alive.
Call it contradictory, or selfish, she didn’t care.
She didn’t care if she was chastised for wanting to live now after throwing away everything she had when she thought she was going to die.
If she could live, she wanted to.
Even if the six months stretched on indefinitely, and with it, the pain and despair, it didn’t matter. She would still welcome it.
“I chose this.”
If her escape from Hylend had been for a free death, this time she was doing it for a free life.
***
Is this a dream?
Dehart stood in front of the dilapidated mansion, staring blankly up at the building.
The world was white, a thin mist enveloping everything around him.
Only the blackened mansion had an unsettling clarity, standing out distinctly.
“I never thought I would miss this place enough to dream about it.”
Raising an eyebrow in confusion at his own subconscious, Dehart turned away and took a few steps into the fog, only to find himself back in front of the mansion once more.
“Ha…”
This disappointing dream seemed to want him to go inside the mansion after all.
“Unbelievable,” he sighed as he roughly swept his hand through his hair.
At that moment, a blue light flickered and disappeared from the crucifix necklace hanging from his wrist.
Of course, Dehart, who had already stepped into the mansion, didn’t see it.
“…What a sight.”
Once inside the mansion, a frown appeared on his face; the interior was even more deplorable than he had expected.
Even so, it shouldn’t have decayed this much from just a fire.
He walked down the corridor, which was beginning to crack, slowly surveying his surroundings.
Dust-covered furniture, ivy breaking through the bricks, a half-collapsed ceiling, and creaking hallways. It were a nuisance everywhere he looked—it looked like a haunted house.
By this point, Dehart felt at ease.
I’m certain now that this is not a dream brought on because I miss Hylend Hall.
It was more fitting to say that he had unconsciously wished for its ruin, and that this wish had now materialized.
Dehart continued walking down the seemingly endless path. Then, at some point, he discovered a large door.
A very peculiar-looking door.
“This is…”
He scanned the door, top to bottom, with a bewildered expression. The door, proudly positioned at the end of the corridor, was made of transparent glass, allowing a clear view inside.
It was the door leading to the greenhouse.
“…”
Dehart’s eyes shook violently before they sank into stillness.
“It’s not longing, nor a wish. This is a dream created by my guilt.”
The painful voice spilled from his lips, breaking apart.
Ever since Sebelia’s death, he had never set foot in the greenhouse.
No, it would be more accurate to say that he physically couldn’t do it.
Because every time he looked at the greenhouse, memories of what had happened inside would resurface.
[Tomorrow will be our wedding anniversary.]
[You probably didn’t remember. It’s okay, I’m not trying to blame you. I just want us to spend it together. Just this once. There’s something I really want to tell you…]
What had she wanted to say? He still didn’t know the answer. There wasn’t a single sentence about it in the suicide note.
What on earth did she want to say to me that day?
She had come to him knowing she would be met with indifference, knowing she would be hurt by his harsh words.
“What on earth were you trying to tell me?” Dehart rested his forehead against the cold glass door and murmured softly.
And at that moment, a voice he had desperately tried to bury surged forward, cutting through the flood of his suppressed thoughts and reaching him.
[The lady had already bid you farewell in her heart, Your Grace.]
Denisa’s calm words, which he so desperately wanted to believe were lies, pierced through his chest.
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