LVSFN 66

Chapter 66

“Your Grace, then how should we handle this?”

At his aide’s words, Jerelak said nothing for a moment.

Then, in a clipped voice, he dropped his reply onto the desk.

“There are no laws that apply, so for now, it cannot be handled.”

“Shall I find out how other empires have dealt with similar cases? If we look for precedents, we might—”

Jerelak stood up as he answered.

“No. I’ll look into it myself.”

“Understood.”

His aide, Milen Orien, gazed at Jerelak’s retreating back for a while. Hugging the documents in his arms, he wrinkled the bridge of his nose.

“Sigh… our lord’s shoulders are drooping. It hurts my heart.”

Many days had passed since Libe disappeared.

The large-scale searches and interrogations had all been in vain.

Libe had vanished like smoke, leaving not a single trace to be found.

Even so, there was no place in Müton that did not require Jerelak’s hand.

Since he had begun tackling the backlog of tasks, he neither ate nor slept, devoting himself solely to work.

When Jerelak left his office, he headed straight for the underground library of Cygnus Castle.

It was filled with books the Cygnus family had collected over generations.

Jerelak shut himself in there for a time, rifling through the imperial law codes and foreign precedents, but he found nothing of use.

“Milen, prepare the carriage.”

In the end, he had no choice but to go to Clem’s bookshop.

“Your Grace, what time shall I return to fetch you?”

The carriage stopped before the shop.

Milen glanced up at the sky and asked, but Jerelak shook his head.

“There’s no need. I’ll be long.”

“The sky looks heavy… it may rain.”

Milen’s voice was laden with worry, but Jerelak answered coldly.

“You’d do well to remember you’re my aide, not my nursemaid.”

“Then at least take an umbrella.”

Jerelak only stared at him without a word.

“…My apologies. Then I’ll be off.”

Bowing his head, Milen climbed into the carriage.

Even after his aide’s carriage vanished from sight, Jerelak did not step into the shop.

To be more precise—he could not.

…

Ever since leaving a letter for Liberata, he had found himself unable to come to Clem’s shop, or even Jeniton Street.

It wasn’t that he had given up searching for her. But whenever he thought of the shop, an uncontrollable unease seized him.

He lingered hesitantly before the door for some time.

“Greetings, Your Grace.”

Turning, he found himself facing a group of finely dressed ladies.

Some faces he recognized, others were strangers.

“Your Grace.”

“What an honor to see you here.”

Of course people would gather—wherever Jerelak stood, he drew attention. To be found standing absentmindedly on the street was enough to cause a stir.

‘A mistake.’

Accepting the greetings with a curt nod, Jerelak kept his composure.

“The sky is so gloomy today, and you’re out without even an umbrella.”

The first to speak was Grania Shurein, her expression a touch bashful.

As Jerelak gazed at her, the maid standing behind her whispered quietly:

“She is Lady Grania of the Shurein viscounty, Your Grace.”

Grania’s eyes shone as she looked up at him.

But Jerelak, looking weary, only inclined his head briefly at the maid’s words.

“Your Grace, I wished to offer an apology.”

Grania began cautiously.

“The other day, I acted far too rashly.”

Placing a hand over her chest, she continued meekly:

“I know you are burdened with grave concerns right now.”

Jerelak wanted no further dealings with her.

Neither an acknowledgment, nor a simple nod of forgiveness, seemed necessary.

He merely looked down at her with a detached expression—thinking, at times like this, an aide’s presence would have been useful.

“Still… I believe your health is important as well. You are the one who governs Müton, after all.”

“…”

“My worry drove me, but I failed to consider your feelings. I regret it, and I apologize.”

She wanted to ask if he had read the letter she’d left him.

How much effort she had poured into it—writing and erasing, rewriting until the phrasing was flawless. Even after copying it neatly, she’d rewritten it again and again because she disliked the penmanship.

‘Should I ask now? Maybe…’

But knowing his nature, she was sure no kind answer would come.

As she hesitated, Jerelak’s curt voice cut through.

“That matter is finished.”

With that brief remark, he reached for the shop’s door handle.

But Grania quickly stopped him.

“Are you headed inside? I was just about to go myself.”

Of course she wasn’t—but she couldn’t miss this chance.

To meet him outside like this—it must be fate!

“Grania, weren’t you supposed to help me choose a peronnière? Tomorrow’s such an important day for me, you promised—”

Another woman’s voice called her sharply, and Grania snapped her head around.

“Then I wish you a pleasant time.”

Jerelak seized the opening and slipped inside the shop.

Ding—

As always, Clem was dozing at his counter.

Jerelak looked at him for a moment, then reached out to wake him—only to stop.

There was something else he wanted to see first, before any law books.

He wandered the winding aisles, thinking of Liberata.

It was impossible, he knew—but still, he imagined she might have read his letter secretly and gone away unseen. And if the letter was gone—what then?

The thoughts made his steps quicken.

In the L section, he halted before a now-familiar shelf.

Just as he pulled out the book that reminded him of her—

“Your Grace.”

The sudden voice made him turn.

Standing there was Adrian Watford, looking neat and composed.

Perhaps it was because Jerelak had been holed up in the castle, immersed in his work, that facing people felt unusually tiring today.

“I trust you’ve been well?”

Adrian glanced at the book in Jerelak’s hand, then gave an awkward smile.

The title was written far too boldly.

Feeling equally self-conscious, Jerelak shoved it back into the shelf.

“Any news of Libe…? Nothing yet?”

Adrian broke the silence first, as if to change the awkward mood.

“Regrettably not.”

Jerelak shook his head, voice flat.

“I see.”

A heavy stillness settled between them.

It was Adrian who broke it with a long sigh.

“Where could she possibly be…”

As much as Jerelak suffered from her disappearance, Adrian did too.

After all, he was nearly the last person to have seen her.

“…In any case, today we’ve both come searching for something else.”

Jerelak’s indifferent tone shifted the subject.

Adrian, catching his intent at once, did not bring up Liberata again.

“Yes, Your Grace. Then… I shall take my leave.”

With a bow, Adrian departed.

Once the sound of his footsteps faded, Jerelak once more reached for the book Libe used to read.

Was it fortunate, or tragic, that there was a place where he could still remember her? He couldn’t tell.

He couldn’t bring himself to open the book.

The letter would surely still be there.

It was only natural that it could never reach her.

He knew it would only echo back to him, like a hollow call—yet he couldn’t let go of that slender thread of hope.

Perhaps if he ignored it, the hope might last a little longer.

Yes… maybe that would be better.

He was about to shelve the book again, unopened—

Thud—

Something slipped from inside.

It must be the letter he’d left before.

Absentmindedly, Jerelak picked it up.

“…”

But the moment he touched it, he realized—it wasn’t his letter.

Hurriedly, he unfolded the neatly folded paper.

The blank page that must once have been smooth and white was now filled, edge to edge, with a woman’s small, graceful handwriting.