TNYLM Ch 41

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷THERE IS NO WAY YOU LOVE ME꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

 

Claudius prided himself on having lived by the book—almost obsessively so.

The dignity of a noble, the chivalry code. The responsibilities that rightfully came with privilege.

There wasn’t a single noble who hadn’t been taught noblesse oblige. Just as a murderer doesn’t kill out of ignorance of its wrongness, it was exhausting to watch nobles behave crudely, forgetting their station.

They were no different from the commoners on the street. Pitiful and foolish—too ignorant to even realize that much.

A noble was, by definition, noble. Wealth and power followed them, yes—but those things alone did not define nobility. If riches were the measure, then every merchant would be noble; if strength dictated rank, mercenaries on the street would be emperors.

What made a noble truly noble was nothing else but themselves.

Claudius never forgot—even for a moment—that he was superior to others. He lived a life that reflected his birth.

He was always elegant, always dignified. Even when he wasn’t, no one dared to criticize him. Instead, his posture was praised all the more.

He accepted praise as his due, and yet responded with humility, as if it weren’t expected.

He was loyal to the lord he served and loved his family. He treated his servants with care—and even showed generosity to the pitiful commoners on the streets.

Claudius believed in fairness, and so he extended that fairness even to the shame of his household—his illegitimate half-brother.

Never once did he choose personal gain over doing what was right. He firmly believed that the world would ultimately side with those who were just and good—and time and time again, that belief was rewarded.

Claudius was a perfect noble. Everyone acknowledged it. Everyone looked up to him.

As they should. Those beneath him ought to look at him that way. It was only natural.

“What did I do that was so wrong? I was considerate of my brother, that’s all!”

That’s how it should’ve been.

So why—why was Kieran looking down on him?

It was the first time he had ever known such humiliation. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Claudius had come to the North on the Emperor’s orders—something he had been deeply reluctant to do. So naturally, Kieran should have been just as reluctant to face him.

But instead, Kieran only rebuked him in a calm, composed voice.

Claudius couldn’t accept those words. He was an elegant and dignified noble. He had always pitied those of lower status and had never once looked down on them with contempt.

Kieran had no right to criticize him. Kieran should be grateful to him. Claudius hadn’t been wrong. It was Kieran who was—

“How foolish of me to think you were too good for her. You were perfect for each other—two vulgar and lowborn creatures finding one another.”

Because unlike Claudius, Kieran was of lowly birth.

The words left Claudius’s mouth like venom spat from between clenched teeth—and in that moment, he realized he had lost control.

That was unbecoming of a noble. To show his true, base nature so easily filled him with shame. And as if to mock him, more cutting words rained down.

“You’re speaking without knowing your place. If the Duke hadn’t acted as she did—if she had maintained that ‘dignity’ you speak of—do you really think you’d still be alive right now?”

Whenever the nobles of the capital criticized Duke Benoit, Claudius had always scolded them harshly.

He would say that she was a knight who protected the nation despite being a woman, and that it was disgraceful to judge her by appearance alone.

Those were words he had spoken from the heart. The other nobles would bristle and turn red, but none could refute him.

Now, as these same kinds of words were hurled at him, they pierced his ears like needles, making his entire body tremble. He wanted to cover his ears and shut them out.

Claudius had once called nobles who insulted Alyssa shameless.

And now, he couldn’t believe the very same insults had come from his own mouth.

“Foolish and ignorant. At the very least, you should have enough sense not to mock the one who holds your life in their hands.”

It was a humiliation he had never experienced before in his entire life. Reflexively, Claudius denied it.

No—that couldn’t be. He couldn’t be wrong. Every action he had taken had a proper, reasonable justification.

It would be the same this time. No—it was certain. Claudius had done nothing wrong.

“Prove to me that insulting my wife wasn’t just another result of your shallow standards.”

The space left behind when his flimsy sense of justice and hypocrisy were torn apart was so horrific, it was unbearable to even look at.

“That mask.”

And so, Claudius denied it with all his might—rejected it completely.

Thanks to that, the silver tongue that had been shredding him moments ago finally came to a halt. Barely avoiding total collapse, Claudius gasped for breath.

“Isn’t it common etiquette in the Empire to show one’s face? Except in rare events like a masquerade, it’s considered basic courtesy.”

To all people, justice is whatever they themselves believe. Claudius was no different.

“It bothered me, but I let it go. But if she’s going to insult me to this extent, there’s no reason to keep turning a blind eye, is there?”

He smiled. Not a single word he had said was a lie.

Claudius had never disliked the Duke. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t vulgar and rude.

When Alyssa, contrary to his expectations, calmly raised her hand to her mask instead of stubbornly refusing to take it off, he was caught off guard for a moment.

But he quickly regained his composure. There were countless rumors about the Duke of Benoît’s face.

Some said her face was grotesquely twisted. Others claimed her eyes weren’t even human. Some whispered that her skin beneath the mask was rotting away.

Each rumor differed in its details, but they all shared one thing: that the Duke’s face was so hideous it couldn’t be looked upon.

When he faced her in person, her eyes looked ordinary—human, even—but half her face remained hidden.

‘She might have been cursed by a monster.’

Even if she had once been a hero who protected the Empire from such monsters—how could someone who had already become one be considered noble?

Claudius looked at Alyssa with eyes glittering with strange hope—but in the next moment, when her face was revealed, that light vanished.

“Is this enough for you?”

He stared at Alyssa in a daze. His mind was full of things to say—accusations, retorts—but not a single word made it past his lips.

A suffocating silence settled over them. After what felt like an eternity, Alyssa put her mask back on.

“There’s nothing more to say now, is there, Young Lord?”

A wave of deep defeat washed over him. But once again, there was nothing he could say.

“…No.”

Hardly had breakfast ended when Claudius began making preparations to leave.

His movements were swift, as though he had never lingered here to begin with. The servants, confused by how the once-kind guest was now snapping irritably at them, rushed to get everything ready.

And so, within just four days, Claudius had finished packing and climbed into his carriage.

Even then, maintaining an air of cold dignity to the end, he offered a stiff smile to Kieran and Alyssa as he said his farewells.

Once the carriage of the Count of Albrecht disappeared completely from view through the window, Kieran let out a deep breath.

Just ten days—it had felt like an eternity. He wanted to believe that now, at last, peace had returned… but he couldn’t.

‘I might be summoned to the Imperial Palace soon.’

It wasn’t just that Claudius was unlikely to speak kindly of him. Even if he told the truth, the Emperor was unlikely to believe it.

There was a reason Claudius had been sent: he was known to be the closest to Kieran among the Count’s household.

But if it came out that they’d had tension between them, and that Kieran had pettily driven him out because of past grievances…

He would try to take as much of the blame as possible, but it still weighed on him.

“Where is Her Grace?”

Kieran’s expression darkened, as if something had just come to mind. Akhim replied glumly to the question.

“I actually just went to check—she’s still at the training grounds. She’s so on edge, I was almost sliced with a sword just for showing up too suddenly.”

It was the same answer he’d gotten two hours ago. Kieran rubbed the back of his hand with a complicated expression.

The day she had taken off her mask—surprisingly, Alyssa hadn’t seemed all that shaken.

However, the calm demeanor she forced herself to wear kept crumbling little by little.

The smile she used to offer Kieran faded, and even when their eyes met, she would quickly look away, bowing her head.

Like a small crack widening over time, Alyssa was rapidly and silently falling apart.

She gradually began to spend less and less time with Kieran.

Instead, she lingered at the training grounds or along the castle walls, swinging her sword in a way that resembled punishment more than practice.

The days grew dangerously unstable, to the point that no one dared approach her carelessly.

Kieran waited, hoping she would improve even slightly—but the situation only worsened.

That night, Alyssa woke up screaming from a nightmare.