What’s Wrong with You, Duke?!

Chapter 8

Dreux felt his bloodthirst boiling up in him the moment he saw the sword pointed in his direction. He didn’t know why he came out of his stupor at this exact moment, but his body was reacting instinctively to what he perceived as a threat. He had been conditioned to react to weapons from a young age, so even when presented with a toy-like sword in a trembling hand, his only thought was to steal it away.

He took a step forward, Noël was on the verge of tears and lifting her sword higher—an unadvisable move. If she had thrust it toward him, she would have at least earned some time to cover her body. But with the sword lifted, she had exposed her vital spots to him perfectly.

Dreux prepared to jump at her throat, but Noël waved the sword around and shouted hoarsely, “I-I told you not to come any closer!”

He paused as he was about to take a step. He thought she might stab at him, but the woman was holding the sword out. The blade was in her hand, and the handle was pointed toward him. Even if it was a light practice sword, because the handle was heavier than the blade, the sword curved deeply down. It looked quite difficult to hold up.

“What are you doing?” Dreux narrowed his eyes at her.

Noël bit her lip and avoided his eyes. She mumbled, “I-I can’t stab you anyway.”

“What?”

“If you get hurt, m-my lord... I don’t want that...”

“Get hurt? From that toy sword?” Dreux mocked her but felt taken aback at the same time.

The sword was so shaky that he assumed her hands would have gotten cut by the blade she was holding, but it seemed as though she didn’t notice the pain. He tested her and took a step forward. She clenched her eyes shut, leaving her whole body open to him, defenseless.

This was impossible. It was an instinct to protect oneself. Her not attacking or defending herself—even when she was scared of him—was strange. Maybe in an attempt to save herself, she was pretending to submit. There was no chance of her winning, otherwise.

Dreux took hold of the sword handle she held out to him, and slowly pushed it toward her. She had to be feeling the blade scrape her palms, but she continued to stand still, not moving away from him or the blade coming for her.

“R-Ru... You’re scaring me...,” she mumbled shakily, like an incantation.

Why did I even teach her that nickname? The moment that name—which his mother used to call him in his childhood—fell from her lips, he calmed down. The sword was still in her hand, but his murderous aura was gone. Still, he wanted to test this woman to her limits.

He was careful and made sure his rage was in check, before slowly pushing harder. The sword moved ever slowly toward her, and eventually touched her breastbone.

“Ahh…” Her shoulders shuddered, and she looked down at the sword in shock with a face as pale as a sheet. She must have thought she was stabbed by the sword because she started to shake and whimper. But she looked up at him and started to beg. “My lord, I truly did not do anything. I don’t know anything. Please believe me.”

Dreux frowned. She was claiming innocence when she should be begging for her life instead? Did she think he would believe her in this situation?

He couldn’t believe her, no matter what she said. But there was one thing he knew. She didn’t plan on harming him “directly.” Well, there was no way she could, given how weak she was. Was she even aware that he couldn’t kill her? Concerned that he might lose his mind again if he hurt her, he controlled his strength and pushed the sword in until it pierced through her clothes and pressed against her skin.

Her lips trembled and she began to sob, her words frantically spilling out of her. “The only thing I know is that the sigil activated! Really! When I came to, you were enchanted and proposing marriage to me! It was a coincidence that I was there! I swear on my soul!”

Because it seemed the woman had no intention to move and her body was quaking so dramatically, it was very difficult to keep the tip of the blade from scratching her. At this point, Dreux became suspicious of her intent. She was too terrified for him to say she was brave. And yet, what was this courage that made her maintain eye contact with him? Most men couldn’t look him in the eye when he had a sword in his hand, but this small woman with her strong will just kept her gaze locked on his. Now that he thought about it, even before he tried to lop off her head, the woman looked him in the eye, crying. As if she was saying her determination was more important than her life.

“Ru. Ru. I’m scared...”

Her pained eyes welled up with tears. Sunlight reflected off them, and they glittered. Watching her made his heart thump faster in his chest. It was so loud that it nearly tore his eardrums. It felt like his instincts were shouting at him, telling him he shouldn’t be doing this.

Dammit. He unconsciously let the strength drain out of his hand. The sword fell to the ground and clanged embarrassingly. This was the first time he’d ever let go of a weapon in his life.

* * *

Convincing? Ridiculous. She really was going to die if this continued. She should have just run away and hidden until the magic came back. Even if she regretted it after the fact, the sword was already poking at her like he would run her through.

Noël couldn’t feel the pain because she was so scared. She just looked up at him plaintively and begged. She couldn’t muster up the courage to run. Even if she ran, he would threaten her again anyway, so it was better to take her lashings now rather than later. Her eyes kept filling with tears and her legs kept shaking, perhaps because of her fear of death, and she clenched her jaw.

She prayed his dark-blue eyes would turn back to the sparkling, light-blue eyes of Ru, and simply claimed to be innocent. She was told to look the god of death in the eye. He would understand the truth in her eyes. She repeated what her mother told her over and over.

“Magic?” asked Dreux. He stopped pressing on the sword at her outburst. He even let the sword fall. Did her honesty work?

Noël squeezed out the last of her courage and replied, “Yes, magic made you fall in love with me.”

The duke frowned and reprimanded her in a low voice. “It’s not magic. It’s my truth, skylark.”

S-skylark? She blinked in surprise. This was a first. She’d never felt so happy to hear that sickeningly sweet pet name. Now that she looked at him, his eyes were glittering brightly. Was he back? Was he really back? Noël rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands and checked again. Now that her eyes were free of tears, she could see the duke’s eyes were light-colored and bright.

“Noël? Are you all right?”

She looked all over her face and unconsciously touched her stomach. Her clothes were slightly ripped, but it didn’t seem she was hurt. She felt such relief as she stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

“Please listen to me. Our first meeting was horrific, but everything was by chance. But I believe chance can become fate.”

“Of course, of course,” he said, looking confused. He nodded profusely.

I’m not saying this to you. Noël blinked and maintained eye contact as he listened to her carefully. She emphasized, “Do you understand, my lord? There’s nothing I can do because I truly don’t know either. Since we’re in this together, can’t you just accept me?”

“I don’t know what you mean, but call me Ru—”

“You can’t be Ru right now!”

“But—”

“My lord! Please just believe me.”

When she stared at him pointedly, the duke nodded. There was a look of confusion on his face. Noël kept him there for a while, continuing to plead with him. Because she couldn’t tell Ru directly about the magic, she had to skirt the topic a little, but she emphasized her innocence as much as she could.

Are you listening, my lord? You must remember this later. Noël kept this up with the duke for the whole morning, repeating herself over and over. “Believe me, please. You must, you absolutely must!”

* * *

“Do you need something, my lord?” The duke’s head advisor, Lawrence Cecil, had gone to the duke’s study with a pile of papers for him to approve. But the duke wasn’t there, and the aide had to search all over the castle to find him.

He found the duke in a very surprising place—an empty room on the second floor. He just stood there, arms crossed, looking out the window. Even as the aide approached him, he didn’t turn around, he just continued to stare outside and said under his breath, “Miss.”

“Pardon?” What did he mean by that? What Lawrence knew “miss” to mean was “to not hit a mark,” but it was very random for the duke to say that all of a sudden. He was looking out into the garden, so was that the name of a flower? No, it would have been even more strange if he’d have said the name of a flower right now. Lawrence had no idea anymore, he didn’t know what was strange and what wasn’t.

He ruminated on this but gave up and offered the stack of papers to the duke quietly. Then the duke said, without even turning away from the window, “Do it again.”

“Sir?!”

He had a lot to say but the duke’s tone was cold and low. Looking at the other man closely, Lawrence saw he had a scowl on his face, indicating his bad mood. It was enough to make him fear his liege’s anger.

Lawrence thought about it rationally for a moment and immediately corrected himself, “Yes, Your Grace.”

It wasn’t enough that the duke had refused to approve these papers, but now he had even more work. Lawrence’s shoulders drooped as he walked down the hallway to the study.

Suddenly, he became curious about what the duke was staring at for such a long time with such intensity. He went down a floor, just below where the duke was, and when he looked out the window, he saw the duchess there. She was sweeping the path in the garden, paying no mind to her dirtied skirts. Next to her, a maid seemed flustered, practically hanging onto her to stop her.

“Your Grace, couldn’t you stop now?”

“No, I can’t. I have to train my mind and get rid of my fear.”

“Embroidery or painting, either one would be wonderful for you.”

“I don’t know how to do those things. Cleaning is the best way to discipline the mind.”

“It will cause a big fuss if His Grace sees you.”

“It’s okay. I made sure he was in his study. You can’t see this spot from the study. And even if he does catch me, I’ll talk to him, so don’t worry,” assured Noël.

This was why the servants looked down on her. Lawrence tutted because he knew very well that the duchess had basically been a maid before she married the duke. She didn’t hold the dignity of an ordinary noble family, let alone that of a duchess. She was down-to-earth and friendly with the maids, which was fine, but sometimes, she even took charge and did their work with them. However, the duke had no intention to teach the duchess the ways of the nobles. Rather, he blatantly supported her actions, saying they were pure and adorable.

If the duchess went into society herself, she would realize how lowly her actions were, but she had no interest in the events for noble ladies. Was this better? Did she think that because she didn’t care, she wouldn’t be shamed for acting this way?

Wait, but why was she working so hard at it? What was she going to do if she got sick? Strangely enough, Lawrence shuddered, unable to tear his eyes away from the duchess sweeping the path.

“Ow!” the duchess exclaimed, stopping her sweeping to grab her hand. He leaned out the window in surprise to get a better look. It looked like she had got a splinter from the wooden handle of the broom. Lawrence was about to go and look after her, but he paused—someone shouted so loudly, it rang throughout the entire castle.

“My skylark! Did you hurt your wing?!” The duke ran out of the castle.

Didn’t he have a very serious look on his face up until now? Lawrence couldn’t reconcile the memory of the duke’s low, terrifying voice with the one that had just exclaimed for ‘his lark.’

The duke rushed over and swept his wife up in his arms before running back into the castle. Once inside, he roared for help, causing the maids to swarm in with their differing opinions. One called for medicine, another called for a physician, and as a result the whole castle was in an uproar.

Lawrence was going to call for a physician discreetly but he backed up, overpowered by the maid’s energy. The duchess started to blush in the duke’s arms and waved her hands, saying she was all right, but no one around her, not even the duke, listened to her properly.

The steward, Benjamin Kupen, ran out in a hurry and saw Lawrence standing a distance away from the mess. He looked understanding as he murmured, “I know he’s different, but this is too different.”

The statement could have appeared critical, but his eyes shone with joy. The steward was one of the people who worried about the duke’s “heart of ice.”

Was it the duke the changed, or the duchy? After the duchess came to the castle, the duke’s cold, noble heart melted and duchy followed suit. But either way, he had to admit it as well: The duke was still indifferent to everything else but his wife, and the loving way he treated her was strangely addicting to watch. Now not only the duke but all the people in the castle—even Lawrence himself—were all wrapped around the duchess’s finger.

Now the castle was no longer abandoned or desolate without a master, nor was it as cold as midwinter like its commander. The spring breeze that the duchess brought with her grew warmer by the day. Even though a sharp wind sometimes blasted through like a cold snap.

Lawrence looked down at the reports in his hands resentfully. Having been the sole target of that bone-chilling wind, he trudged away listlessly.