Chapter 10

The carriage was sturdy—strong enough to traverse even the roughest mountain terrain without so much as a rattle.

Just like the man before me.

Beneath his broad, stone-like shoulders, not an ounce of unnecessary flesh could be seen.

The sunlight filtered through the canopy, scattering across his face like grains of sand, illuminating the delicate yet sharply defined features hidden beneath the shadows.

I had already seen this face in Agriche, but up close, it felt strangely unfamiliar.

Is this what it feels like to return to the beginning?

The man before me gave off the eerie sensation of meeting someone for the first time.

The carriage was narrower than expected, and the journey from Agriche to the Grand Duke’s estate was long.

A thick, awkward silence filled the space between us.

His gaze was unwavering, fixed solely on me, while I focused solely on the view outside.

Only now did it truly sink in—I was going to be his personal Purifier.

Countless rumors about him flickered through my mind.

“He’s a monster who never lets anyone into his estate.”

“No dancer who’s ever entered that house has come back out.”

“They say every woman he spends a night with ends up dead.”

Some of these whispers had been exchanged in Agriche, but most had been gathered during my time wandering the streets.

Ever since my brother appeared in my dreams, I had never overlooked a single detail about this man.

Gathering information had been easy.

Kallain Detroit was so infamous that no one in the Empire was unaware of him.

Every step he took, every seat he occupied, even a mere glance from him—all of it became the subject of gossip.

And yet, the suffocating presence of the man himself far outweighed any rumor.

I had only seen him in dreams, but my personal feelings toward him were anything but favorable.

Because in that dream, my brother had been dragged away by men bearing the Detroit crest.

I told myself, over and over, that not all the rumors about him could be true.

That some must have been distorted.

Because I had no choice but to hold onto that hope.

Because if he was even the slightest bit good, then maybe—just maybe—my brother, my family, was still alive somewhere.

That was all I could cling to.

And yet—

Now that I was face to face with him, even that fragile hope was slipping away.

The foolish bravado I had exuded in Agriche was gone without a trace.

Now, I was nothing more than a small, cornered figure trapped inside this carriage.

I had recklessly insisted on coming to the North in search of my lost memories, but now I found myself questioning everything.

What if the memories I find are nothing but nightmares?

Fear crept in, curling around my chest.

* * *

The carriage moved past the mountain slopes, heading toward a town bathed in the fading glow of the setting sun.

Crossing just one ridge had made it feel as though the season itself had changed.

A sharp chill swept through the air, a stark reminder of the region’s frigid climate.

As the towering, spire-like buildings came into view, it finally sank in—I had arrived in the heart of Detroit.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I could see his gaze reflected in the window’s glass.

How long has he been looking at me?

Our eyes met only for a brief moment.

Though the window stood between us, his piercing blue eyes held me in place, making escape feel impossible.

I tried to ignore it, pretending not to notice, when suddenly—

He began removing his cloak.

Why is he taking off his clothes here?

Suspicion flared, and my body instinctively tensed in caution.

“Why? Worried I’ll try something strange?”

He glanced at my wary posture and scoffed before tossing his cloak toward me.

The large, heavy fabric slipped over my lap naturally.

I stared at it in stunned silence until his voice, low and measured, reached me.

“Detroit is a cold region. Dressed like that, you’ll freeze to death.”

“…Oh.”

Somehow, even when saying something considerate, he managed to make it sound terrifying.

I draped the cloak loosely over my shoulders, but he didn’t seem satisfied.

With a look of disapproval, he reached out and firmly fastened the fur-lined fabric around me.

His touch was so unexpectedly gentle that I almost doubted whether this was the same man who had been speaking so bluntly moments ago.

He was impossible to read.

Still, there was no doubt about who held power between us.

And yet, despite that, he was treating me with kindness.

The people in positions of power I had seen until now were never like this.

I didn’t know what kind of person he truly was, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

But one fact was undeniable—I owed this man a great debt.

“…Thank you.”

His eyes lingered on me, slowly trailing down my throat.

The space between us felt suffocatingly small, making every gaze, every shift of his fingers, feel unbearably heated.

The large hand resting so close to me, yet not quite touching, only made the air heavier.

But clearly, this was only in my head, because his expression remained perfectly composed.

“Is that all of your belongings?”

“…What?”

“Your luggage.”

Only then did I notice his gaze fixed on the small bag beside me.

“Oh… Yes.”

Even when I had been taken in by nobility, I had never been treated like a proper lady, and after escaping, I had lived in even greater poverty.

It wasn’t surprising that I owned so little.

In that sense, the fact that I had even been accepted into Agriche as a member had been pure luck.

Of course, I had orchestrated it myself, but still—there was no one else there who had neither status nor background.

Kallain doesn’t know about that yet.

Something about my lack of possessions must have displeased him, as his gaze toward my bag hardened slightly.

Does he think I’m inadequate as his Purifier?

It wouldn’t be surprising.

Imperial Purifiers were typically treated with the utmost care and carried themselves with equal dignity.

I couldn’t even begin to guess how I appeared in his eyes now.

Once we arrived at the Grand Duke’s estate, he would surely have an investigation done on me, and soon enough, he would know everything.

For now, I just had to prove that I was capable of meeting his standards.

If I wanted to survive in Detroit, I had to make sure I stayed in his good graces.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to disgrace Your Grace’s dignity.”

One of his eyebrows arched slightly, as if he hadn’t expected me to say that.

As he continued to regard me in silence, an elderly man—likely his butler—arrived and announced our destination.

* * *

The vast mansion filled my entire field of vision.

The setting sun cast a reddish glow over the snow-covered structure, creating a breathtaking spectacle.

To say the mansion was enormous would be an understatement—it felt too large to take in within a single day.

Even Agriche, with its collection of countless noblewomen and high-ranking members, couldn’t compare to this.

As we passed through the dense forest and past intricately carved dragon statues, a grand fountain in the shape of an angel came into view, its waters cascading in a long, flowing arc.

The estate was immaculate, but much like its master, it exuded an air of darkness and decadence.

There was no warmth, no sign of the soft, welcoming atmosphere that typically came with human habitation.

Once inside, the Grand Duke strode ahead without a word, disappearing into his office.

The elderly butler turned to me with a polite bow before beginning his introduction.

“I am Jayden Fiolenne, Count of Fiolenne. You may refer to me as Sir Jayden.”

He then led me to the easternmost wing of the mansion and opened the door to a room.

“This will be your residence from now on. If His Grace requires you, you may find him in the fourth-floor annex.”

While it was a fair distance from the Grand Duke’s chambers, it was still inside the mansion.

That was unexpected.

Rumors had always claimed that Kallain Detroit was extraordinarily selective about who entered his estate—borderline obsessive about privacy.

“…I’ll be staying in the mansion?”

Jayden adjusted his monocle slightly, his gaze sharp in a way that was different from the Grand Duke’s but no less piercing.

“Yes. That is correct.”

Despite his cool demeanor, he remained perfectly polite and professional.

With that, Jayden efficiently concluded his explanation and exited, leaving me alone in the room.

Only then did I finally take in my surroundings.

Jayden had mentioned that this was a guest room and that it could be remodeled or replaced if I wished.

But I already liked it as it was.

It had been so long since I’d had a space to call my own—a warm bed, a small, cozy table.

Lying down, the soft blankets enveloped me, and exhaustion crashed over me like a wave.

But the moment was fleeting.

As my mind cleared, images of Monet’s tearful face flashed through my thoughts.

Now that I was gone, all the chores, all the laborious work I had done in Frozen Agriche would fall onto her shoulders.

Just because she had been close to me.

It wouldn’t take long for the members to realize that Monet was the one who had called the Grand Duke.

And then what?

What would happen to Monet, left alone in that place?

She was the first person who had reached out to me after I lost my memories—the only one who had truly been by my side.

During the carriage ride, I had already thought through this situation over and over.

I had formulated a plan, laid out the necessary steps.

But…

…I lacked the courage to put it into action.

Because in the end, the key to this plan was held by him—the Grand Duke.

Will he grant my request?

Logically, I believed I could convince him.

But his cold demeanor, his unyielding presence, made me hesitate.

The way he had looked at my meager luggage, as if it was something disgraceful.

His cold, detached voice.

His polite but distant manner.

All of it weighed down on me, making me shrink back instinctively.

But right now, I was essential to him.

Turning my head, I could see the Grand Duke’s office, its windows still illuminated.

Being assigned a room here was a stroke of luck.

His chambers were at the westernmost end of the estate. Mine was at the easternmost.

From here, I could observe his movements through the flickering shadows cast against the window.

Steeling myself, I rose from bed.

With slow, heavy steps, as if drawn by an invisible force, I moved forward—

Until the faint light seeping from the cracks of his office door came into view.