This Life, I Will Save The Duke (20 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 95

Lemon watched his master reviewing documents even inside the carriage. It was still the same Kaius von Elbaltan as always—only his face now bore visible signs of fatigue. Yet Lemon knew: something immense, though unseen, had changed.

Never before had his lord ever removed work from the top of his priorities. Even during wartime, he had never half-heartedly reviewed documents or attended meetings. This time, though he hadn’t handled matters carelessly, he had plunged into work nonstop, foregoing even the briefest rest—breaking his own long-held rule that rest was an extension of work, essential for sound judgment.

[Your Grace, you must rest.]

[Well, I don’t feel particularly tired.]

Lemon’s urging proved futile.

[Your Grace, we’re going to die.]

Only after Devian and several staff members finally collapsed from exhaustion did he allow a short break—and even then, His Grace continued reviewing documents alone.

He had acquired three Berihouse hotels. Normally, he would have spent ten days at each, taking a full month for the task. Yet this time, he’d shortened the schedule to fifteen days from the outset—and then further reduced sleep and rest until he finished everything within just ten.

The reason for this change—Madam—was immediately obvious, without needing much thought. At times when a messenger bird from Sir Ostian was due, he’d set aside documents he’d never abandoned even during meals, stare blankly out the window, and unconsciously fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist. Depending on the note’s contents, some days his expression would soften, while other days he’d remain cold-faced the entire day.

The sight was so strange that Lemon had once seized the chance during His Grace’s absence to examine the collected notes—but they contained nothing unusual, only Madam’s ordinary daily musings.

Notes about a snowman appearing anew each day, her insistence on wearing white gloves, her attempts to convince Butler Raymond to let her leave food uneaten, one day asking Sir Ostian to procure a sword for her, and another day mentioning she’d started learning swordsmanship from Anna.

Among them, a crumpled note mentioned a letter arriving from Edward Camelon. Judging from the timing, His Grace likely stopped smiling right after receiving that note. Why His Grace, her own husband, worried so much over such trivialities was utterly beyond Lemon’s comprehension.

“Your Grace, if we keep up this pace, we should reach the mansion by tomorrow afternoon.”

Kaius, who had been immersed in documents, finally looked up at Lemon’s words. Heaving a quiet sigh, he set the papers aside and pressed firmly against his temples. Glancing out the window, he saw the landscape outside the carriage had finally shifted from green forest paths to white snow.

For him, the past ten days had been utterly inexplicable. His family’s business had always been one of his foremost priorities throughout his life. Moreover, this particular matter marked a critical juncture for the hotel enterprise—it demanded careful, unhurried scrutiny to ensure flawless execution. Yet he himself didn’t understand what had driven him to rush so desperately.

Read full content of this chapter on r e d c a t t y . c o m