Eriel stood on the terrace wearing a robe.

Lucy was sound asleep, but Eriel couldn’t sleep due to anxiety over Damian’s absence.

Although he had been away much longer due to the war, she seemed to have grown accustomed to him being in the mansion.

He mostly stayed in the study, but there was a big difference between him being in the mansion and not.

Word had come that he wouldn’t be coming to the ducal residence today due to being busy with work, but she still felt anxious.

Thud thud thud thud-.

Just as Eriel was standing there blinking,

She could see a carriage racing at full speed in the distance.

It was headed towards the ducal residence, but it wasn’t a Jenova carriage. It was an ordinary carriage without the family crest.

But Eriel’s gaze, fixed on the terrace, couldn’t tear away from the ordinary carriage.

“No way…”

The ordinary carriage she had hoped would just pass by came to an abrupt stop at the main gate of the Jenova ducal residence.

“Why would an ordinary carriage come at such a late hour…”

The question didn’t last long. With urgent gestures from the knights, the carriage passed through the main gate.

Eriel’s heart pounded as she gripped the terrace.

Before the coachman’s whip could even finish cracking, the carriage door opened and Sir Charles leapt out as if ejected, running towards the mansion.

The butler’s voice rang out, and Charles immediately went back into the carriage and emerged carrying Damian on his back.

“Damian…?”

Blood dripped from Damian’s legs as he was carried on Charles’ back.

Even in the moonlight, Damian’s pale face looked unwell at a glance.

Eriel didn’t even think to change out of her nightgown into other clothes. She merely gestured to close her robe.

Eriel had no room to think of anything but the blood flowing from Damian’s legs.

When she flung open the door, the commotion from the hall immediately reached her ears.

“M-My lady…!”

The butler who noticed Eriel hurrying down the stairs flinched.

Eriel passed by without sparing a glance at the butler’s flustered appearance.

Her gaze followed only the droplets of blood splattered on the floor.

Eriel’s breath scattered at the trail of blood leading to the reception room where guests were received.

Praying it wasn’t something serious, Eriel flung open the door to the reception room.

A doctor in nightclothes sat on the floor examining Damian’s wound, while Damian leaned against a chair taking shallow breaths.

Beside him stood Sir Charles with puffy, swollen eyes.

In that short time, maids rushed in and out carrying gauze.

As soon as those in the reception room noticed Eriel, everyone held their breath in unison.

In the reception room without even a clock, only Damian’s breathing could be heard.

“…Damian.”

At the sound of Eriel’s voice, Damian closed his eyes then opened them again.

Eriel could see cold sweat slowly trickling down his forehead.

Approaching Damian in disbelief, Eriel sank down in front of him.

“Damian. Damian… What…”

“Don’t look. Close your eyes.”

As Eriel tried to lower her gaze to Damian’s legs, a large hand blocked her view.

“Eriel, it’s alright.”

A weak voice pierced Eriel’s ears. It was a voice as if barely exhaling a labored breath.

Eriel grasped his hot hand and used all her strength to hold back the sobs in her throat.

“Okay.”

Eriel replied. She didn’t want to make Damian exert more strength because of her when he was injured like this.

“I won’t look.”

Eriel lowered Damian’s hand. Damian met Eriel’s eyes and slowly closed and opened them as if to say it was alright.

“Sir Charles. Why… What in the world happened to Damian?”

While the doctor was examining Damian’s leg, Eriel’s gaze left Damian and turned to Charles.

Just then, another doctor rushed breathlessly into the reception room. Charles immediately knelt at Eriel’s concern.

“I’m sorry, Duchess. The Duke’s injury is my fault. The Duke was stabbed while trying to save me.”

“…What? What do you mean?”

Eriel stared at the kneeling Charles, her fingertips trembling.

“I will explain outside the reception room.”

“Eriel.”

While Charles was apologizing to Eriel and saying he would explain, Damian, sweating profusely, called out to Eriel.

The blue eyes gazing at Eriel held affection for his subordinate.

“…Sir Charles is injured too, right? Your posture is quite unsteady. And your breathing doesn’t sound good. For now, let’s have you both treated by the doctor, then we can talk.”

Eriel rose to her feet.

“We’ll talk after that.”

Eriel managed a small smile towards Charles as if to say it was alright, and asked the doctor to look after Charles as well.

*

“The Duke was injured like this while trying to save me. I’m sorry. It’s because of my incompetence.”

After receiving treatment, Damian had fallen asleep in the bedroom, while Charles sat in the reception room with gauze wrapped around his abdomen.

Eriel nodded weakly after hearing Charles’ detailed explanation.

“There’s no need to apologize. From what I’ve heard, you’re not at fault at all, Sir Charles.”

Eriel shook her head with a bitter expression and lowered her gaze.

She cradled the warm teacup in her hands, but Eriel’s cold hands didn’t warm up easily. After pondering Charles’ story, Eriel closed her eyes tightly then opened them.

“…It must have always been like this. He must have always… thrown himself to save his knights.”

At Eriel’s words, spoken as if to herself, Charles’ expression hardened. There was nothing he could say.

How could he tell the wife that her husband risked his life time and again to save his subordinates?

“At times like this, I realize how small my capacity is.”

A dark shadow fell over Eriel’s green eyes.

“No. Anyone would think that way.”

“Thank you for saying so. But Sir Charles, you also received that wound while trying to save Lucy with your own life. Don’t feel guilty. If you apologize to me, I should be the one apologizing to you instead.”

“…No. Protecting the young lady is only natural, and this is shameful for me as a knight. I’m truly sorry.”

Eriel set down her teacup with a gentle smile.

“No. You did your best. Thank you for always being by Damian’s side and assisting him. It’s gotten late, so please rest here tonight. You must be tired too. Thank you for telling me all this.”

“Thank you.”

Eriel stood up after greeting Charles.

*

Blake reached for his wine glass as he recalled the day he had brought up Eriel’s divorce to Lucy.

There was firm resolve in Lucy’s eyes as she faced him. It was a resolve that nothing in the world could shake.

‘I’ve decided to forgive Dad.’

Lucy’s precocious voice rang out.

‘Though I regret the condition Uncle proposed, family is something I can’t trade for anything in the world. But Uncle.’

Lucy approached Blake. Her already large eyes seemed to grow even larger as she drew near.

‘About Mom. Do you know that Dad, whom Uncle distrusts, is truly precious to her?’

Lucy’s eyes seemed to contain a sharp blade. They were keen enough to cut a person with just a glance.

‘Can you really say that’s a better choice for Mom? And not just your own selfish feelings?’

Finishing his recollection, Blake picked up his wine glass and smirked.

“No matter how I think about it, she’s sharp.”

It was hard to believe she was only 7 years old, even in hindsight.

“She really takes after her sister.”

Just as Blake was slowly nodding,

An agent landed on the windowsill, his cloak fluttering.

“Young Lord, I’ve come to report.”

Blake set down his wine glass and gestured with his chin for the agent to speak. The agent unfolded a memo from inside his coat.

“First, I have news to report. Bruno is dead.”

At those words, Blake frowned in confusion.

Though he didn’t like it, he had acknowledged Damian’s combat skills.

But when a report came in that essentially said he had failed the mission, Blake tilted his head.

The enemy’s target would have been to assassinate Bruno, and Damian’s goal would have been to protect Bruno.

…Or not. Perhaps he had no intention of protecting him.

“And Duke Jenova has been gravely injured.”

However, at this follow-up report, Blake decided to just forget what Lucy and Eriel had told him.

If even his fighting skills had become trash, what redeeming qualities did his brother-in-law have left?

“And we’ve captured some enemy agents. Most committed suicide during transport, but we managed to gag one of them.”

“Oh? Were there any notable findings?”

“Nothing so far.

But the strange thing is, most of the ones who committed suicide had severely crushed their own hands before doing so.”

Blake nodded at that report.

Hands, huh.

Certainly, this Jarvis fellow was likely to know Count Scala’s secret.