Chapter 66
“Shall we take a short rest?”
At Urian’s suggestion, the maids quickly set a tea table on the terrace before withdrawing.
Marsha sat down and offered him a grateful smile.
“Thanks to you, I can breathe for a moment. Thank you.”
“No need. If His Grace were here, he would certainly have told you to rest. There’s no need to rush with preparations—you have plenty of time…”
“…”
Marsha frowned without meaning to.
This morning, when Claudio had appeared and suddenly declared he would host a party, her heart had nearly leapt out of her chest.
W-what do you mean, a party all of a sudden?
Didn’t you say you couldn’t choose which party you wanted to attend?
Then there’s no helping it.
We’ll just hold one ourselves.
Ah, and the preparations—you’ll handle them.
N-no! I’ve never hosted a party before…!
That’s why you should try now. It’ll be fun.
Claudio had tossed those words and left the house at dawn, giving her no chance to argue.
Suppressing a sigh, Marsha murmured,
“I’ll do as I’m told, but… is this really alright?”
Just being his partner was enough to draw attention.
But to throw a party in her honor—it would surely invite even more.
“He asked me to help you avoid attracting troublesome people. But doesn’t this seem like it will only invite unwanted eyes instead?”
Urian nodded calmly, as if he had expected that thought from her.
She isn’t wrong.
Claudio had shattered the convenient excuse for bringing her here.
But of course, His Grace knows exactly what he’s doing.
That sharp mind could not possibly be unaware.
Urian also understood why Claudio was behaving so uncharacteristically.
He had seemed unsettled until the matter of Wilford was resolved.
Now, though, he was like a predator that had found its prey.
Compared to him, she seems utterly unaware…
Yurian gazed at Marsha with pity, like a rabbit before a lion.
“Oh—I don’t mean to criticize His Grace,” she said quickly, worried she had been misunderstood.
With a faint smile, Yurian shook his head.
“I understand what you mean. But you shouldn’t burden yourself too much. After all, you saved him. Hosting a party like this is perfectly in line with the Duke of Gloria’s nature.”
Of course, Claudio had never held a party in this mansion, nor had he ever shown half as much consideration to anyone else.
But Yurian swallowed that thought; it would only weigh on her.
“Actually, there’s something I’d like to ask you, Lady Marsha.”
“Yes?”
“His Grace once mentioned that during your father’s case, there was another victim. Is that true?”
His cautious voice made Marsha tense.
Had he uncovered something?
“Yes.”
“I reviewed the investigation records. It said the victim’s face was damaged beyond recognition, but his family confirmed his identity through his clothing. Is that correct?”
“That’s right. His wife had sewn those clothes herself, so it was not difficult to identify him.”
“I see…”
Urian nodded slowly.
“Is something wrong?” Marsha asked, her expression anxious.
He recalled Claudio’s words:
Strange.
Robbery victims rarely suffer damage to the face.
That kind of cruelty usually comes from personal grudges—or to obscure the corpse’s identity.
This miner’s neck had a deep wound, likely the cause of death through blood loss and shock.
The other wounds were only on the face—that means he was already unconscious when they were inflicted.
Why, then, mar his face?
If the killer thought clothing wasn’t proof enough, how do we explain Count Emelide’s body?
The count’s face had been hard to identify too, but that was because of decomposition, not disfigurement.
His death had been from a knife wound to the abdomen.
Two victims, two corpses, but such different states.
That cannot be mere coincidence…
Claudio had told him not to speak of this to Marsha until they knew more.
It would only burden her.
Yurian fell silent in thought, then looked at her and forced a calm smile.
“It isn’t that there’s a problem. I only wanted to verify the accuracy of the records.”
“Oh… I see.”
“I hope I haven’t troubled you by bringing it up.”
“Of course not.”
Marsha smiled faintly.
Even without revelations, she was grateful someone was digging into the case at all.
“You’re already busy, and I’ve only added to your burdens. I’m sorry.”
“You owe me no apology. Our informants retrieved the documents, and besides, His Grace has been far more invested in the case than I.”
Marsha blinked.
“Really?”
“Of course. Even during the journey here, he was absorbed in those papers. You didn’t notice?”
Now that he mentioned it… She remembered the thick packet of documents Urian had handed Claudio in the carriage.
Claudio had pored over them all the way to the estate.
So those were about Father’s case…
She had assumed they concerned the assassin who had targeted Claudio.
Even if he had sought that man first, she would not have resented it.
That would have been only natural.
He’s… making me feel guilty.
She fiddled with her fingers.
Urian, noticing, changed the subject with a gentle smile.
“Are the preparations giving you much trouble?”
“I’m not sure if I’m doing well. I’ve never hosted a party before.”
Urian looked startled.
The Emelide family had been wealthy enough.
It wasn’t poverty, then…
Ah, of course.
The count lost his wife early and doted too much on his daughter.
She hadn’t even left the estate until four years ago.
No parties, no social gatherings—it made sense.
“Then there’s no need for worry. His Grace didn’t give you work to burden you. He simply wanted you to shape it according to your taste. There’s no ‘right’ answer here.”
Is that really true?
Marsha gave a wan smile.
Claudio baffled her.
Sometimes he seemed kind, only to turn that kindness into teasing.
Sometimes endlessly merciful, other times terrifyingly ruthless.
Seeing her strained smile, Yurian frowned.
I hadn’t wanted to say this, but…
After glancing around, he raised a hand to his lips.
“This is between us, but… His Grace is surprisingly simple.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Keeping his voice low, Urian explained, “As you know, he’s lived a life where he’s never had to watch his words.
He’s straightforward, almost to a fault.
So when he speaks, most of it is true.”
“But… he uses such a sarcastic tone sometimes…”
“Hm.”
Urian grimaced in thought, then said reluctantly, “He makes his sarcasm obvious. He wants the other person to notice. In that sense, he’s more honest than anyone I know.”
Marsha’s mind flickered back to Rosana.
That girl had pretended to care for her, only to corner and belittle her.
Compared to her, Claudio…
“You’re right. He is very honest.”
She covered her mouth, laughing.
Urian ’s eyes widened—her laughter startled him.
“Ahem.”
Embarrassed, Marsha cleared her throat just as a sharp breeze swept the terrace.
The tablecloth fluttered, and a blossom from the garden lodged itself in Urian ’s dark hair.
“Um…”
Too shy to point directly at him, she touched her own head.
“You’ve got a petal stuck… right there.”
“Ah, really?”
He reached up but missed it.
“No, not there—here.”
She gestured more clearly, but still he failed to find it.
Finally, she asked,
“Shall I take it off for you?”
“I’d be grateful.”
He leaned forward obligingly.
Marsha bent toward him, carefully plucked the petal from his hair, and held it in her hand.
“On women, petals look lovely. But on me, people would just think I’d lost my senses.”
His odd expression of thanks made her lips twitch, struggling not to laugh.
“You can laugh, you know,” Urian said softly.
“No, no… I…”
She had never felt comfortable laughing freely in front of others.
Not since four years ago, though truthfully, she had always been shy.
Hm?
Suddenly his temple burned hot.
He had noticed the sting for some time but dismissed it.
What’s this…?
Turning his head toward the garden, his breath caught.
Claudio stood there, eyes narrowed, glaring at them—no, glaring at him—with naked disapproval.
Oh, hell.
