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Lucian had fallen into a deep sleep, seemingly overwhelmed by the strain of his injuries.

Even in his sleep, however, he clung tightly to my wrist, refusing to let go.

After several minutes of carefully twisting and pulling, I finally managed to free myself from his grasp.

Click.

Stepping out of the room, I leaned against the closed door and let out a long, tired sigh.

“…Haa.”

The entire time I had been with Lucian, I couldn’t shake the suffocating pressure that reminded me of Dante.

Sure, Lucian had started off stern, but soon enough, his demeanor softened into that same tenderness that had once been so familiar in the past.

‘What am I even doing?’

Escaping from Dante—what was the point?

In the end, Lucian was no different. There was no escape from these men who clung to me like shackles.

My chest felt tight, like a heavy stone was pressing down on me.

I needed fresh air, anything to clear my head.

Acting on impulse, I began walking toward the exit.

When I reached the back garden, I stopped.

* * *

Marguerite strode down the hallway with swift, confident steps, a mysterious smile playing on her lips.

Then, someone called out to her.

“Ah, Lady Marguerite!”

It was one of the Duke’s servants, Oliver.

“Oh, Oliver!”

Marguerite turned around, her eyes widening in feigned surprise, her tone familiar and friendly.

Oliver greeted her warmly. “We are truly grateful for your help.”

“Oh, come now, the Duke is my dear friend. How could I ever turn my back on a friend?”

“No, really, if it weren’t for you, who knows what kind of terrible situation the Duke might have faced…”

Oliver’s voice was full of emotion as he spoke, but then he frowned, tilting his head in confusion.

“But, why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be with the Duke?”

“Well…”

For a brief moment, Marguerite’s face darkened, like a cloudy sky.

Oliver narrowed his eyes.

“Did something happen?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Marguerite shook her head.

But Oliver, not easily convinced, pressed on.

“It doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’ Lady Marguerite. What’s bothering you?”

Though she kept her mouth tightly shut, Oliver was persistent.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Marguerite spoke.

“…Maybe I’m being too sensitive, but I think Elze feels uncomfortable around me.”

“Elze… feels uncomfortable around ‘you’?”

Marguerite nodded.

“Yes, so I decided to give them some space.”

“What?!”

Oliver’s face hardened.

Marguerite waved her hand, trying to defuse the situation.

“But, you know, Lucian and Elze haven’t seen each other in a while. It only makes sense for the uninvited guest to step aside.”

“Uninvited? ‘She’ is the uninvited guest!”

Oliver raised his voice in frustration.

“Oh, don’t say that.”

Marguerite scolded gently.

“Lucian values Elze a great deal.”

“That’s exactly the problem! How many sacrifices has the Duke’s household made because of ‘that’woman?”

Unable to control his anger, Oliver clenched his fists tightly.

“What right does she have to cause the Duke to get injured like this?!”

“Shh…”

Marguerite raised a delicate finger to Oliver’s lips, instantly silencing him.

The gentle touch made Oliver’s face flush with embarrassment.

“I understand your frustration, but you shouldn’t speak that way.”

“Lady Marguerite…”

“After all, love only burns brighter when others try to stop it, doesn’t it?”

“I-I understand.”

Oliver nodded quickly, trying to regain his composure.

Marguerite sighed softly.

“Besides, if you speak ill of Elze, it would only hurt the Duke more. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

“You’re right… I apologize. There’s no one as kind as you, Lady Marguerite.”

Oliver’s voice became dreamy, admiration flooding his expression.

“If I were the Duke, I would never leave someone like you feeling lonely.”

“Oliver…”

“I mean, I just—ah!”

Oliver suddenly snapped back to reality, his face turning even redder.

“I-I’m sorry! That was out of line!”

“No, no. In fact, I’m glad.”

Marguerite replied warmly. “It shows you truly care for me, doesn’t it?”

“Lady Marguerite…”

Oliver’s eyes were filled with emotion as he looked at her.

With one last smile, Marguerite patted him on the arm and began to walk away.

“I’ll be off now. Take care, Oliver.”

“Yes!”

Oliver watched her leave, entranced.

As Marguerite walked down the hall, feeling his gaze on her, she let out a quiet chuckle.

“Oh, this is so much fun.”

She stifled her laughter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“How long has it been since I’ve enjoyed myself this much…?”

Her emerald eyes sparkled with a cruel, playful light, as if she were a child pouring water on an anthill.

“Well, then. Let’s see how this all plays out for a while.”

With that, she continued down the hallway with a light, carefree step.

* * *

Back in the room, Lucian had fallen into a deep sleep, utterly exhausted from his injuries.

Even in sleep, his grip on my wrist remained tight.

It took several minutes of carefully maneuvering before I was finally able to slip out of his grasp.

Click.

I stepped outside and leaned against the closed door, letting out a long breath.

“…Haa.”

Being with Lucian had felt like being trapped in a similar suffocating grip as I had felt with Dante.

Though Lucian had softened after his initial harshness, I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that weighed down my chest.

‘What am I doing?’

What was the point of escaping Dante, when Lucian was no different?

It felt like a heavy boulder was pressing down on my heart, leaving me short of breath.

I needed to clear my head, to breathe.

With an impulsive urge, I headed outside.

And when I arrived in the garden…

“Ah…”

I blinked slowly, feeling dazed.

Before me was an unexpected sight—clusters of cornflowers, blooming together in the darkness, their blue petals shimmering like waves on the ocean.

“…”

As I stared at the scene, a strange feeling washed over me.

Memories of Lucian, back when he was still innocent, came flooding back. The time when I had brought him a vase filled with cornflowers…

 

[So you looked at those cornflowers and thought of me?]

[I’m happy about that.]

 

His soft, gentle voice still echoed faintly in my mind, brushing against my ears.

I kept gazing at the sea of cornflowers, then found a bench nearby and quietly sat down.

The brightly lit mansion loomed in the background, but I didn’t want to go back inside.

Curling up on the bench, I felt the tension in my body slowly ease.

Eventually, as my mind began to quiet, I drifted into the comforting embrace of the night’s darkness.

 

Under the bright blue sky, vivid red roses bloomed in all their glory.

But those roses weren’t the only things painted red—the ground beneath them was stained with blood.

It was my blood.

 

I stared blankly at the droplets of blood, then slowly lifted my head.

Someone stood in front of me.

Behind them, two men flanked them protectively, as if shielding them from me. Yet, neither of them could meet my gaze.

They avoided my eyes like they had committed a grave sin.

‘Elze, did you know?’

The figure before me slowly bent down.

It was impossible to discern their face, as if a child had smeared it with black crayon. But those venomous green eyes—those were clear, sharp, and vivid.

‘A trampled flower smells the sweetest.’

A slender finger gently lifted my chin.

The person’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

They looked at me the way one might look at a struggling insect beneath their feet.

‘I’m curious to see how far you’ll go with your desperation.’

Suddenly, a sharp voice pierced the air.

‘Stop!’

From far away, a man was running toward us, frantic and furious.

Despite his approach, the figure before me remained calm, leisurely.

‘Stop him.’

The two men moved to block the approaching man.

Through my hazy gaze, I could see the man struggling, his desperation etched into the air.

‘Let go of me, you lunatics!’

The man turned to look at me.

Once again, I couldn’t make out his face clearly.

But the ruby-red eyes that glinted in the light—they felt strangely familiar.

Those eyes scanned my face, pleadingly.

‘Elze! Elze…!’

“Elze!”

“Huh?!”

I gasped, inhaling sharply.

My eyes flew open, and I was met with a pair of kind, emerald-green eyes staring directly at me.

Instinctively, I stiffened and recoiled slightly.

“M-Marguerite?”

The remnants of the nightmare still clung to me, making her beautiful eyes seem oddly unsettling.

Marguerite smiled sweetly, her expression calm and gentle.

“You seemed to be having a bad dream, so I woke you. Are you alright?”

“…Yes, thank you for waking me.”

I replied, nodding quickly.

Marguerite reached out and gently brushed her hand across my forehead.

“Oh my, look at this cold sweat.”

Her touch, however, was strangely cold, like the skin of a reptile.

I shivered, an uncomfortable chill crawling up my spine.