159. Do You Know Your Place?

2024.03.07.

Yuan Pelliese instinctively steadied her ragged breathing, hugging herself tightly with both arms.

When had he ever left her behind in a cave, disappearing without even showing his face?

She couldn’t understand why Clade Euphris was pushing her into such a corner—surely no special feelings remained for her that would make him rush here just because of Hire Hatarun’s words.

What if she said she was in pain?

What if she claimed she had gone to kill Bollonico?

Even if he had briefly lost his mind and believed everything Hire said, Clade must have known they were already walking separate paths.

Nothing would change.

Clade Euphris did not love Yuan Pelliese.

As long as this unshakable premise was deeply rooted in her mind, his actions could only stem from curiosity or wounded pride—pride that others knew something he didn’t—and nothing more.

And that only made Yuan feel even more miserable.

“Swear on your life, can you say that the doctor’s words were false?”

Yuan pushed her trembling body backward and finally turned around to face him.

Her dark eyes swiftly scanned Clade’s face—the same face she had only briefly glimpsed moments ago.

Her lips, ready to lash out in anger, froze motionless.

Clade’s face was not the perfectly polished marble she knew so well.

His features looked rough, like a grotesque sculpture carved by a mad sculptor with a sharp chisel over sleepless nights.

The more her trembling eyes scrutinized his face, the more her heart sank.

His sunken eyes were filled entirely with shadows, and the area beneath them was dark, just as they had been when he was gravely ill.

His lips, seemingly struggling to suppress rage, were cracked and blistered like those of someone who had slept outdoors for days.

His beauty hadn’t faded—but that made the sight even more painful, piercing Yuan’s eyes like needles.

Clade’s own brows furrowed naturally in response.

After desperately trying to avoid looking at Yuan, he finally met her gaze, and his eyes quickly swept over her face.

Because once he looked at her as someone in pain, things he hadn’t noticed before began to come into view.

Clade finally spoke after a brief silence.

“Can you swear that you’re telling the truth, and that Hire Hatarun lied?”

The moment Yuan realized Clade’s eyes were insistently scrutinizing her complexion, she pushed him away with surprising strength.

Unaware that even this feeble force irritated Clade, Yuan’s voice trembled as she spoke.

“Why would I lie to you? I—!”

A metallic taste of blood spread across her mouth as she gasped.

By the time she realized it, fresh blood, bright as the warm blood of a freshly slaughtered animal, was already streaming from her nose.

Clade’s eyes, darkened like blackened coal, followed the trail of blood downward.

Then came a hacking cough—*kuk*—and Yuan’s body folded halfway over.

Onto Clade’s firm chest and abdomen poured a fist-sized clot of blood, along with more fresh, crimson blood.

Yuan stood frozen, not even thinking to cover her mouth with a handkerchief.

Through her pale, hastily raised hands, shockingly red blood dripped steadily.

After staring rigidly at the scene for a long moment, Clade finally spoke.

“I’ve heard your answer.”

A sinister voice leaked from his twisted lips.

He pulled out a handkerchief from his clothes at random, shoved it against Yuan’s mouth, and gripped her arm tightly.

It didn’t hurt—but the force was frighteningly strong.

He dragged her forward without even granting her a moment of confusion, striding swiftly down the wide corridor.

It was obvious where he was taking her.

He intended to bring her before the doctor and expose every lie she had told.

Seeing Clade’s eyes gleaming as they stared straight ahead, Yuan instinctively shrank back.

The urge to shout, *What difference would it make if I were sick?* suddenly faded. But only for a moment.

Spurred by a sudden, intense premonition that she might cause a major incident in this host’s mansion, Yuan summoned her courage once more and tried to shake off Clade’s hand.

“What are you doing right now?”

Yuan’s vision was blocked by the back of a man just as massive as Clade. Another hand touched her tightly gripped wrist.

Eugene Kimfri had firmly stepped between Yuan and Clade, standing in direct opposition.

His calm voice cut cleanly through the tense, almost lethal atmosphere.

“Are you, Marquis Kimfri, kidnapping a sick person right in the middle of the hall?”

Yuan twisted her body trying to see Clade, but caught between Clade’s unyielding grip and Eugene Kimfri’s determined back shielding her, she could not move an inch and could only listen to the exchange between the two men.

“Kidnapping?”

Clade responded with a cold smirk, as if he had just heard something absurd.

“Eugene Kimfri.”

The temperature in the corridor dropped even colder than before.

Eugene Kimfri stood firm, responding without flinching to Clade’s call.

“I’m listening.”

“Do you know your place?”

Eugene Kimfri’s hand twitched slightly. Slowly, he released Yuan’s arm.

But he didn’t step back—instead, he moved further in, deliberately blocking Clade’s line of sight to Yuan.

Clade’s grip tightened even more.

His eyes, already sharp, grew even more acute with irritation at Eugene Kimfri’s audacity.

Clade’s icy voice poured out as he met Eugene’s calm, steady gaze.

“Your split chest has healed well, I see.”

The cruel words twisted from his lips carried a savage intensity.

“If you don’t want it torn open again before the flesh has even fully grown back, you’d better step aside.”

“This is my domain. Even if Marquis Locksenhart holds a higher rank, I cannot allow overreach.”

Clade yanked Yuan’s arm forward.

Yuan, slightly pulled away from Eugene Kimfri’s back, finally saw Clade’s murderous glare directed at Eugene and froze in place.

This really looked like it was about to turn into a disaster.

“My domain? Are you warning me? I’m showing a great deal of restraint right now.”

Seeing that Eugene Kimfri had no intention of backing down, Clade slowly shifted his gaze between Yuan’s pale face and Eugene’s unyielding one, then raised his chin and added,

“Stay out of a married couple’s affairs, Eugene Kimfri.”

“!”

“We haven’t divorced yet.”

Eugene Kimfri’s firm stance wavered slightly in his eyes.

Clade twisted his lips and pulled the flustered Yuan closer. But his opponent wasn’t Yuan.

“Your Highness!”

An elderly man, panting heavily with labored breath, came rushing toward them, eyes blazing.

“I’ve just received word from Marquis Rev! He’s on his way to visit—!”

His voice, indignant at the sudden, unannounced arrival, echoed loudly down the corridor.

In the meantime, Yuan regained her senses and pulled her arm free from Clade’s grip. Then she whispered,

“We’re already over, Your Highness.”

Her voice was soft, but to Clade’s sensitive ears, it rang as clearly as a whisper in his ear.

“No matter what you’ve heard. No matter what you think you know—it doesn’t matter.”

Yuan completely hid herself behind Eugene Kimfri, who still stood firm.

“I don’t want to see you anymore. Please go back.”

Holding tightly to Eugene Kimfri’s arm, Yuan moved away from Clade, who was being held back by the old marquis.

Yuan’s composed face, desperately avoiding eye contact, and Eugene Kimfri’s cold, resolute expression passed before Clade’s eyes one after the other.

Clade, about to break free from the old marquis and follow her, abruptly stopped in the middle of the corridor.

A pair of closely entwined shadows stretched long across the corridor floor at his feet—then vanished.

***

On the old marquis’s face, surprise and emotion swirled together, but Clade’s expression only grew darker.

The old marquis seemed entirely unconcerned about having sneaked into the mansion, desperately trying to read Clade’s intentions.

At the same time, he occasionally looked up at the grown Clade with the fervent reverence of a believer who had received an answer to prayer.

Yet, despite the old marquis’s eager welcome, Clade could hardly focus.

He raised a rough hand and gripped the still-damp bloodstain.

Blood from the dark clothing stained his palm red.

An ominous premonition crept up his back, sending a chilling tingle down his nape.

Cutting off the old marquis, Clade demanded that doctors be summoned immediately, then abruptly rose to his feet.

Ignoring the old marquis’s plea to discuss matters tomorrow, even brushing off his order for servants to prepare a room.

He stopped a passing servant and asked where Yuan Pelliese was staying.

Like an undead wandering the world, dragging a dead body and devoid of reason.

Clade stopped thinking—his mind offered no solutions—so he simply moved forward.

Finally standing before a solid stone wall resembling both the old marquis and Eugene Kimfri, he lifted his head toward a faint trace of movement.

“We’re already over, Your Highness.”

“I don’t want to see you anymore. Please go back.”

His mind, emptied of thought, echoed only with the fading voice.

In his bloodshot eyes, the night had already fallen, and through the darkness, the lit window of Yuan’s room came into view.

“…By whose authority.”

Clade’s hand tightly gripped the solid stone wall.

Then the toe of his pitch-black military boot forcefully slammed into a crack in the stone wall.

A massive shadow began to climb steadily up the dark outer wall.