TGDHC Chapter 125

Chapter 125 – A Change of Mood

“Big sister!”

It had been days since I’d seen that adorable face again.

“Raphael, welcome.”

Thanks to Loic’s permission, Raphael could now freely visit the main residence. I no longer needed to go all the way to the annex to see him.

Excited, Raphael ran into the room—but when he noticed the guest sitting inside, his face stiffened slightly.

“Your Grace… greetings.”

He bowed awkwardly, and Loic nodded back with a calm smile.

“Come in, brother-in-law.”

Wow. No matter how many times I heard Loic call him that, I still wasn’t used to it.

Raphael mumbled nervously at the unusually casual greeting.

“Um… Raphael is fine…”

“Why? I like calling you brother-in-law. It feels friendly, don’t you think?”

Loic turned to me with a soft smile.

“Ah, um. Yes,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

Well, technically, it wasn’t wrong… though it sounded less like affection and more like he was teasing Raphael.

“You two seem close these days?”

“He’s my only brother-in-law. Isn’t that right?”

Huh?

Raphael, who sat beside me muttering something under his breath, had his ears turn slightly red.

‘Maybe he actually likes being called that more than he admits.’

Come to think of it, when the two of them had been sparring at the training grounds last time, they’d looked like they were having fun.

“What’s this?” Raphael asked, pointing to the bowl on the table.

“Spicy tomato stew. It’s a northern dish.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s my favorite. Want to try some?”

When I said that, Raphael nodded.

“I’ll serve him,” Loic said, taking the ladle. He neatly scooped some stew into a small bowl and set it in front of Raphael.

Both of us watched as Raphael took his first bite.

Gulp.

“How is it? Tasty?”

“Ugh—spicy!”

“Spicy?”

I quickly handed him a glass of water, and Raphael gulped it down, fanning his mouth and even tearing up a little.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. Was it too spicy?”

“Hah… but it’s good.”

“R-Really?”

Even with his cheeks burning red, Raphael kept eating spoonful after spoonful.

‘He must really like it.’

Watching him sniffle and still eat, I said,

“Raphael, this was made by His Grace himself.”

“…?”

“The Duke cooks really well, isn’t he amazing?”

Loic looked rather pleased as Raphael glanced up at him.

“Well…”

Raphael clearly didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but it would’ve been too awkward to stop eating after admitting it was delicious.

“If you’re… trying to win my sister over, I guess this much effort makes sense.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. It’s good,” Raphael said quickly, then spooned more stew into his mouth.

Enolius pressed his lips together tightly and asked, “She still hasn’t said anything today?”

“Her stability comes first,” Loic replied firmly from his office chair.

Since the head maid’s death, the ducal castle had been shrouded in mourning.

At first, when Annette had been angry, he’d actually been relieved—it was better than despair.

He had rushed Meisel’s punishment to finish it within a day, afraid Annette might soften if too much time passed.

He wanted her to move on quickly, so he arranged Meisel’s exile without delay.

But once everything ended, Annette had grown quiet and withdrawn.

The death of the head maid had clearly shaken her deeply.

‘I should’ve made sure that never happened in the first place.’

When Annette became gloomy, Loic couldn’t focus on anything.

Even the idea of cheering her up with a kiss felt impossible in such an atmosphere.

Everyone in the castle worried about Annette—but no one more than Loic.

He cooked her spicy tomato stew every morning and night.

He even pressured the court mage to somehow make the out-of-season nephras flowers bloom again.

He went as far as allowing Raphael to freely enter the main residence, knowing it might lift her spirits.

—“If Your Grace becomes friendly with Lord Raphael, I’m sure Her Grace will be very pleased,” one aide had suggested.

Taking that advice, he’d even tried bonding with Raphael.

In truth, Loic had come to like the boy—mostly because Raphael managed to make Annette smile again.

‘At least she smiled today.’

Enolius blew a strand of hair away from his face, looking exasperated.

“You should pursue the trail while it’s still fresh.”

The investigation of Marzella’s body had revealed traces of forbidden magic.
It was a twisted poison—one that distorted a person’s life force, killing an ordinary human within seconds.

Lady Meisel had insisted that she’d bought a “non-lethal medicine,” claiming innocence.

Knights had raided Goldrain based on her statement, but the sorcerer’s shop had vanished without a trace.

—“The sorcerer who appeared before Her Grace and Lady Meisel is the same person,” Enolius had concluded.
“And if I’m right, he’s likely a dark mage who worships dragons as gods.”

Finding that dark mage was their only lead to uncovering the dragons’ whereabouts.

To do that, Enolius insisted they needed details about what had happened by the lakeside that day.

—“You should ask Her Grace directly,” he’d told Loic.

But Loic kept postponing that conversation.

The mage ruffled his long hair, frustrated.
“Just ask her already!”

“Not now.”

Not until Annette was completely healed.

Loic could still remember catching Annette’s trembling body as she collapsed by the lake.
Even in his arms, she had shivered endlessly through the night, whispering incoherently with cold sweat on her brow.

She had been terrified.

‘And when that priest called her a saint, she couldn’t even breathe properly.’

She may have looked fine on the surface, but Loic knew she carried deep scars that no one else could see.

He could imagine it easily—people once worshipping a young girl as a saint, only to later mock her as a fraud.

How much pain must she have endured to grow into the upright, kind woman she was now?

And now, to be told once again that she was a true saint…

Who could accept that easily?

—“Her Grace is the real saint! We must help her regain her divine power and guide the Empire!”

The priest Miel—whom Loic had forbidden from approaching Annette—came every day begging to see her.

Enolius scowled, likely thinking of the same priest.

“We can’t hide him forever,” he said. “Eventually she’ll have to face him.”

“If you’re going to start sounding like those ‘guide of the Empire’ fanatics, stop right there,” Loic snapped.

“I wasn’t trying to be dramatic,” Enolius muttered. “But the seal, her health—all of it depends on her.”

“…You’re not wrong.”

“It would help if the priest could see her again,” Enolius added, sweeping his robe grandly as he turned to leave.

“Oh, by the way,” he said, pausing at the door. “Isn’t Her Grace going to the opera today?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. Maybe it’ll lift her mood.”

With that, the door closed behind him.

Loic leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply.

“I hope so.”

Opera.

Annette had mentioned she’d never been to one before.

‘I’ve never been either,’ he thought with a faint smile.

He was glad she’d found something to enjoy—but the thought of not being there with her made him sigh again.

He could already imagine her face—her eyes shining as she watched the stage.

‘And I have to miss that?’

Moments like these made him curse his cursed body more than ever.

‘I wish she’d come home soon.’

The castle felt hollow without her.

‘Wow, it’s beautiful!’

As I stepped down from the carriage with Norton’s escort, I couldn’t help but gape at the sight before me.

The Carmania Opera House was far grander and more dazzling than I’d imagined.

A vast dome crowned the arched entrance, supported by intricately carved columns and decorated statues. The entire building radiated elegance and majesty.

Elegantly dressed nobles exited their carriages and walked toward the warmly lit entrance.

“My goodness! So this is the opera house?” gasped the Marchioness, stepping down behind me. Even she seemed awed—apparently, such grandeur was rare even in the capital.

Our group included Cecilia, the Marchioness, Raphael, and my maid Leta, along with several knights for escort.

“Your Grace!”

Alcent, the owner of the opera house, spotted us from afar and hurried over.

“I was just admiring how magnificent this place is,” I told him.

“You flatter me, Your Grace. It still has many flaws after all these years of neglect. Please, this way.”

The interior was just as splendid.

Polished marble floors gleamed beneath a vast chandelier, softened by plush carpets. The tall walls were lined with elegant curtains over wide windows.

The lobby was bustling with people and waiters carrying trays of champagne.

Perhaps because of the knights escorting us, heads turned as soon as we entered.

“Oh my, isn’t that…!”

“Isn’t that Her Grace, the Grand Duchess?”

Whispers rippled through the crowd, quickly spreading until the whole lobby buzzed with excitement.

Even people far ahead in conversation paused to glance our way.

And within moments—

The entire hall fell silent.