AWLITEB Chapter 3

The moment Isabella left the drawing room, she moved swiftly toward the basement.

Most of the maids were occupied in the drawing room, though a few still passed through the corridors. But as always, none paid her any attention.

When Isabella reached the basement entrance, however, a soft sigh escaped her lips.

"Damn."

The door leading to the basement was locked tight with a heavy padlock.

On days when guests visited the estate, even if Isabella happened to be outside the basement, the servants locked the door leading downstairs. They worried that some curious guest might wander down the stairs.

"What now..."

If she didn't hurry back, she'd draw suspicion. But she couldn't very well show her bare feet in front of the maids either.

That's when it happened.

"Miss Isabella."

Flinch—

Isabella whipped around at the low whisper that grazed her ear.

Genos Perdian.

He towered over her with his considerable height and build, looking down.

He wore the practiced smile of social courtesy, but his eyes held the cold detachment of something bloodless.

"You appear to be in some difficulty."

"..."

"If you don't mind, I'd be happy to assist."

"Diffi—difficulty? There's no such thing. Your concern alone is an infinite honor, Your Grace."

Isabella bowed and made to leave, but Genos stepped back, blocking her path.

"If there's an empty room nearby, please show me. My attendant will return shortly with shoes."

"...Shoes?"

"Isn't that the nature of your difficulty, Miss Isabella?"

Genos was direct.

Isabella hesitated briefly, but the truth was she had no other option.

"This... this way."

Isabella pressed against the wall directly beside the basement door. It swung open smoothly, revealing a tiny pantry space.

A hidden room that outsiders would never discover unless they knew to push.

Inside sat wooden crates filled with grain bars—completely dried out, devoid of any taste or texture, nothing but empty calories stacked in boxes.

When Isabella did something wrong—in the White family's estimation—these grain bars became her rations.

Just looking at the boxes, Isabella could taste the gritty sawdust texture on her tongue.

She quickly slipped inside. Genos raised a hand toward Butler Peil, who'd just arrived at the far end of the corridor.

Despite his mature years, Peil moved with surprising efficiency, hurrying over to hand Genos the shoes.

Simple beige shoes, unadorned, perfectly suited to the dress.

Genos gestured for Paile to keep watch, then stepped into the cramped space with Isabella.

Paile closed the door behind them, plunging the room into complete darkness. There was no separate lighting in this space.

Then Genos's fingertip glowed with a small blue light. He flicked his finger casually.

The room brightened as if lit by soft lamplight.

Isabella looked around with startled eyes.

"You can use magic?"

The question came out with a child's wide-eyed wonder.

"You speak as if you've never seen someone use magic before."

At Genos's words, Isabella fumbled and avoided his gaze.

"Ma—magic is always fascinating to see. And women rarely have proper opportunities to learn it. That's why I reacted that way, Your Grace. Forgive me if I was rude."

Her excuse was transparent, but Genos didn't press further.

Not that his curiosity wasn't piqued—he simply didn't have time.

"Excuse me."

Genos knelt on one knee before Isabella and lifted the shoes.

"Your... Your Grace..."

Despite Isabella's flustered state, Genos's posture remained impeccable.

"We don't have time, Miss Isabella."

Isabella found it deeply uncomfortable to expose her scarred, bare feet before his eyes.

She bit her dry lips, then reluctantly slipped both feet into the shoes he held out.

They fit perfectly, as if tailored for her.

"I'm relieved there's no issue with the size."

Genos looked up at Isabella as he spoke.

His deep voice resonating in the confined space made her tense.

This was the first time she'd been so close to a man besides Ethan.

Perhaps reading her tension, the Grand Duke withdrew his gaze and slowly rose to his feet.

"We should leave now."

As Genos moved to exit, Isabella's heart quickened.

She needed to thank him.

"Your... Your Grace."

The Grand Duke turned back toward her as he'd been about to push the door open.

Isabella placed a hand over her chest and opened her mouth.

She meant to express her gratitude, but the moment her hand touched her chest, a sharp pain surged through her, cutting off her words. Where the brooch had stabbed her.

Genos's brow furrowed slightly.

"I won't forget this kindness. Thank you, Your Grace."

Isabella delivered the words calmly despite the pain.

Genos considered letting it pass, but found himself unable to ignore his curiosity about the barefoot woman—uncharacteristic for him.

"Are you injured?"

"...Pardon?"

"You seem uncomfortable."

"Ah, that's..."

Isabella hesitated before continuing.

"The brooch... stabbed me. It was my own clumsiness that caused it."

"Did you fasten the brooch yourself without the maids' help?"

"Well, yes. I overslept and didn't have time to... prepare properly. There wasn't time to trouble the maids with every little thing."

"Then where is the brooch now?"

"That's..."

Isabella couldn't bring herself to continue.

Looking into Genos's cold amber eyes, the words wouldn't come.

They said knights from neighboring kingdoms were particularly afraid of Genos. Now, facing him and experiencing the depths contained in those eyes, she understood why.

"Your Grace, you should return now."

As Isabella remained silent, the butler's voice came from outside the door.

The tension that had coiled around them dissipated.

Genos opened the door first, and Isabella followed him out.

"Please go ahead. I'll enter shortly after."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Isabella bowed silently to him, then headed straight for the drawing room.

A maid opened the door, and when Isabella entered, Rosalie—who'd been smiling brightly thinking the Grand Duke had returned—froze.

"What do you think you're doing? Where did you go that you're only coming back now? Don't you know there can't be a single flaw today?"

Rosalie glanced repeatedly at the door, worried Genos might return, keeping her voice low.

Watching Rosalie's clenched teeth, Isabella walked reluctantly to the table and sat down.

"Where were you?"

Martha asked.

Isabella delivered the excuse she'd prepared since leaving the drawing room.

"I was so nervous I felt hiccups coming on. I went out to calm myself and came back."

"You should have said you were ill. I shouldn't have seated you here."

Rosalie glared at Isabella with vicious intensity, as if her teeth might crack.

Isabella simply kept silent.

"Calm yourself, Rosalie. The Grand Duke will return soon."

At Martha's advice, Rosalie ground her teeth and swallowed her anger.

"After this is over, just you wait. I'll starve you for three days at least. You won't even get grain bars."

Then the drawing room door opened and Genos entered.

As the family rose in unison, Genos raised one hand as if to say it wasn't necessary, then took his seat.

"My apologies. A message was due, and I needed to check."

"Not at all, Your Grace. We're delighted you visited despite being so busy."

At Rosalie's words, her face flushing, Genos lifted the corners of his mouth in a practiced social smile.

Once Genos sat, everyone else followed suit.

Isabella kept her eyes fixed only on her teacup.

"State affairs must be keeping you very busy. At this rate, you won't even have time for hunting."

Ethan shook his head playfully.

Genos played along appropriately.

"Indeed. I'm afraid we won't have opportunities to hunt together for some time."

"And today being the Day of the Witch's Birth, how much more must be weighing on your mind."

Martha added.

Right. Today.

Isabella's eyes widened briefly before her expression settled.

This year marked the centennial return of the Rhathus Empire's Witch's Birth. Today in particular was the 33rd day of spring—the Day of the Witch's Birth itself.

"Oh my, how frightening. To think the Day of the Witch's Birth we've only heard about is actually here."

Rosalie widened her eyes like a rabbit and shuddered. A gesture Martha had specifically trained her in.

"The knights have isolated and are monitoring all expectant mothers near their due dates. We've arranged to receive immediate contact if anything suspicious occurs. There's no need to worry."

Genos explained kindly.

Rosalie nodded with the face of a girl in love.

"You must be so short on time preparing for such a crisis, yet you came to visit our estate. We're so happy."

At Rosalie's shy words, Genos smiled and shook his head.

"Not at all. It's only natural. Besides, isn't the joy I receive the greater?"

Rosalie flushed red at his words and lowered her face in rapture.

"I wonder what kind of demon will be born this time. They say the last witch a hundred years ago killed three knights the moment she was born?"

Ethan spoke with an interested expression.

"What gives me chills is that all witches kill their own mothers at the moment of birth. How can an infant do such a thing?"

Martha closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Still, aren't you curious what a witch who's only born once a century looks like? Her whole body glowing blood-red—I'm curious about that, and how she cuts her way out of her mother's belly. Out of intellectual curiosity, of course."

Ethan spoke seriously, leaning slightly toward Genos.

His words walked a dangerous line.

If Isabella had said such things, she would have been whipped within an inch of her life. But Martha and Rosalie merely thought Ethan was being "mischievous."

Since Baron Derek White's death, Ethan was the only man left in the household. They believed he needed to display their so-called manliness to others.

Which meant a touch of cruelty and violence.

"What do you think, Your Grace?"

"Well. I'm only concerned with eliminating the witch before she can harm the nation."

Genos answered Ethan's question appropriately.

"They say if the witch isn't subdued on the day of her birth, she won't stop until she's slaughtered a thousand people. Is that true?"

Martha asked.

Genos nodded with a gentle smile.

"Yes. That's what's written in the Imperial Records."

"Heavens."

Rosalie covered her mouth with a shocked expression.

"By tomorrow morning when the sun rises, we'll hear news that the witch has been dealt with, so don't worry, Rose."

At Genos's kind words, Rosalie looked as happy as if she owned the world.

"Having Your Grace here makes us feel so secure."

"Then let's set aside talk of witches now and discuss the marriage of this beautiful young couple instead. The tea table is getting too heavy."

At Martha's words, Genos nodded in agreement.

Whether the topic changed or not, Isabella continued to keep her mouth firmly shut, only taking occasional sips of tea.

None of the White family paid any attention to her, but Genos occasionally observed Isabella with glances so subtle no one else noticed.

The time approached for Grand Duke Genos to depart.

When Butler Paile approached and announced this fact politely, Genos begged forgiveness for leaving and exited the drawing room.

The discussion of the wedding wasn't completely finished yet, so Rosalie was deeply disappointed, but she couldn't very well block the Grand Duke's path.

Everyone followed behind the Grand Duke to see him off.

"I'll see you at the Imperial Ball that will be held soon. The invitation should arrive within ten days."

At Genos's words, Martha carefully spoke up.

"I believe you mentioned you'd announce your marriage to our Rosalie at the ball. Is my memory correct, Your Grace?"

A ball was the perfect stage for announcing a marriage. That's why high-ranking nobles typically announced their marriages at lavish balls.

But an Imperial Ball, no less.

They'd be the envy of most nobles.

"Yes. The marriage will be announced there."

As Genos answered calmly, Rosalie tried to calm her heart. She was already excited and thrilled.

Grand Duchess! To think such an elegant title would be placed before her name made her body tingle and tremble.

"I see. Our Rosalie will prepare diligently so as not to disappoint Your Grace. She'll be the perfect Grand Duchess wearing the Blue Diamond."

"Disappoint? What an absurd notion. You don't know how much infinite joy it brings me to have promised eternity to Miss Rosalie."

"Your Graaace."

Rosalie drew out the last syllable and exchanged loving looks with Genos.

Martha and even Ethan watched the scene contentedly, but Isabella alone frowned.

To Isabella's eyes, Genos's gaze held no romantic affection whatsoever.

He was affecting warmth, but underneath lay only the official, weary gaze of someone surveying state affairs.

In that moment, as if reading Isabella's thoughts, Genos shifted his gaze.

When their eyes met, Isabella hurriedly looked away.

"Rose, see His Grace to the main gate."

At Martha's words, Rosalie walked delightedly alongside Genos's party across the courtyard.

Having felt strange tension in Genos's final look, Isabella didn't even watch his retreating figure.