Chapter 17

Clang, clack!

Demius said nothing as he continued to strike.

In truth, he only ever slept in his office. He returned to his room before dawn merely to see Melissa’s face for a moment before leaving again, so others would think he was resting.

But Seres had no way of knowing that. He had made it clear to the servants that no one was to report such things to her.

‘That boy still thinks strength alone can solve everything.’

Her gaze swept across his face.

His already pale skin looked even whiter from exhaustion. The shadows beneath his long lashes made his expression appear cold and tired.

‘Because of that woman, no doubt.’

Melissa.

Even with all his duties, she was still draining the last of his strength.

He handled the affairs of the duchy in her stead, searched endlessly for Asellion’s traces, spent nights with Melissa, and still came to train at dawn.

Seres clicked her tongue, a faint sound of irritation.

“Are you getting any proper rest?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

For the first time that morning, Demius answered her directly.

His tone was cold, and for a fleeting second, Seres wondered if their marriage was already sour. But she immediately dismissed the thought.

She had seen the look in his eyes when he gazed at that small woman.

Every time she caught him watching Melissa from his study window, he looked entranced, as though possessed. And whenever they crossed paths in the halls, his entire body seemed to spring to life.

He was hopelessly smitten.

‘This isn’t good.’

Seres frowned slightly, then hesitated.

But perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if a child came of it.

If she expelled Melissa now, her stubborn son might refuse to remarry, which could risk the family’s succession.

Having an heir would make things safer.

But then she shook her head.

No.

That was not the answer.

Aside from the moral issue, she was beginning to realize that removing Melissa might not be as easy as she had thought.

Seres exhaled and finally spoke with finality.

“Starting today, you will sleep in separate rooms.”

“I refuse.”

Clang!

Demius’s blade crashed down with fierce force as he answered without hesitation. Seres parried the blow smoothly, a faint smirk curling on her lips.

“I never gave permission for that marriage.”

Clang!

Deflecting her sharp strike, Demius smiled thinly.

“Do I need your permission?”

“Remember, I am the Grand Duchess, and you are the heir of Eisenhart.”

“I told you already. I have no intention of inheriting.”

Clang! Scccrrk—

The clash of metal filled the air, shrill and deafening.

Seres steadied her stance against the growing pressure, her expression cold.

“Whether you want it or not, it’s your duty.”

In an instant, she shifted her weight and lunged forward, exploiting a brief opening in Demius’s guard.

“If you bear the blood of Eisenhart, you will fulfill your obligation.”

Clang!

But Demius twisted his body, blocking her strike effortlessly. His voice was calm, almost chilling.

“That’s just an excuse, isn’t it?”

“What?”

Seres’s eyes widened slightly.

Demius met her gaze head-on.

“You say it’s for my sake, but really, isn’t this about Father?”

“What are you implying?”

“Father was the son of a lowly viscount’s house. The third son, wasn’t he?”

“…!”

Seres’s jaw tightened.

“Are you insulting your father?”

“I’m not insulting him. I’m just stating the truth.”

Demius’s lips curved faintly, and his blade pressed forward.

The sheer force drove Seres a few steps back before she regained balance and struck again. But her composure was already slipping, and Demius parried easily.

His voice was cold and steady.

“You were the one ashamed of him, weren’t you?”

“…!”

Seres froze.

Watching her reaction, Demius’s smile sharpened.

“There was a time, long ago, when Father’s family came to visit the castle, wasn’t there?”

He must have been five, maybe six years old.

* * *

‘Come here, child!’

That day, he had been playing alone in the garden.

Asellion had gone to the capital to enroll at the academy, and his little sister Natalianne was busy with her tutor.

Hiding from her behind the hedge, he suddenly noticed unfamiliar adults approaching, waving and smiling warmly.

‘Let’s see your face, boy.’

Young Demius had never seen them before and froze in surprise.

But their gentle smiles made him lower his guard, and he slowly approached.

Then one of them reached out to pat his head, another to pinch his cheek, and another tapped his back lightly.

Startled, he stepped back, but they only laughed.

‘No need to be afraid. We’re your uncles and aunts!’

Uncles? Aunts?

Demius looked up at them with confusion, and one of them chuckled softly.

‘That means we’re your father Isilan’s brothers and sisters.’

Father.

The word felt strange on his tongue.

The sunlight behind them shimmered across their hair. It was unusual.

Silvery white, soft gray, and shades of ash.

So different from his own jet-black hair.

He remembered something his nurse once told him.

Isilan the Silver.

A man with hair and eyes that shone like moonlight. His father had died when Demius was two, shortly before Natalianne was born.

That was why Demius had no memory of him.

There were no portraits of him in the halls lined with the ancestors of Eisenhart, nor in his mother’s study where the family paintings hung.

Sometimes, a faint, vague image surfaced in his mind, but it always faded like mist on glass.

Still, his nurse used to tell him that among the three siblings, he resembled his father the most.

Demius looked at the faces surrounding him one by one.

Then frowned.

Was I really that ugly?

If they were his father’s siblings, they should have looked more like him.

While he blinked in puzzlement, the adults exchanged glances and laughed.

‘Doesn’t he look just like Isilan?’

‘He does. His hair and eyes are from the Grand Duchess, but the rest is pure Isilan.’

Demius’s eyes widened.

Now that he looked closely, he saw it.

Their hair and eyes were paler than his, closer to silver.

So Father must have looked like that.

For the first time, the vague, mythical figure of his father began to take real shape in his young mind.

Silver hair that gleamed like moonlight.

Eyes as soft and deep as reflected water.

And a face shaped much like his own.

The pieces of his imagination fell into place, forming the image of a father he’d never known.

So that’s what Father looked like.

* * *

‘How dare you.’

A heavy shadow fell over his head.

He turned and nearly burst into tears.

His mother stood behind him with a terrifying expression he had never seen before, glaring at the visitors.

He hiccupped, trying to hold back his sobs, as her lips parted slowly.

‘I warned you.’

The adults flinched visibly.

But they quickly exchanged glances and spoke in haste.

‘You can’t mean this, Your Grace!’

‘He may be dead, but Isilan was still your husband. How can you treat his family so cruelly?’

‘How dare you!’

Seres’s eyes blazed like fire, then in an instant froze to ice.

Her voice cut through the air, cold and merciless.

‘Leave. Now.’

‘Your Grace!’

The adults reached out to her desperately.

But Seres’s command was final.

‘Remove them.’

‘Please, Your Grace, we beg you! We’ve done nothing wrong!’

The uncles and aunts who had called themselves family were seized by the guards and dragged away.

They screamed her title again and again, but Seres turned without a glance, leaving the garden behind.

* * *

Demius smiled faintly at the memory.

“I later heard from the servants that they were banished from the duchy entirely.”

Seres pressed her lips together, her voice clipped and cold.

“They were worthless people.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”