MHHC Chapter 44

Encounter

Adelheid was well aware that Valentin had grown indifferent to Ansgar Castle's affairs recently.

The range of matters requiring her approval had expanded considerably.

Still, she'd heard he never missed training at the practice grounds, at least...

In any case, it wasn't her concern. Adelheid nodded calmly.

"Understood. I'll review it now. Hand it over."

She took the parchment listing names from Yanik's hands.

Knight Commander Günter's name was absent. Instead, she found Klaus and Joachim listed—the knights who had given her trout.

"Knight Commander Günter's name seems to be missing. Did Hermann convey any particular message about it?"

"Ah. Günter said he'd remain at the castle this time. We recruited quite a few new soldiers, didn't we? He apparently judged he needed more time to train them into something useful."

"Training soldiers—does the Knight Commander really need to handle that personally?"

"The head butler tried to persuade him, but apparently Günter delivered a whole speech about how the knights couldn't fight properly on the battlefield if the castle's defenses were inadequate."

"I see..."

If his determination was that firm, it made sense not to include him in the escort list.

No one could deny that the Crown Prince loathed the Grand Duke of Ansgar with spectacular intensity, but they'd be attending an imperial banquet—not some sordid gathering in a back alley.

Concern for appearances alone would prevent anyone from drawing blades within the palace walls.

'Günter made it sound reasonable, but he's really planning to observe the new recruit training himself and filter out anyone suspicious. Many applicants had unclear backgrounds.'

It had been a necessary choice given their urgent need to bolster forces, but if Günter personally vetted each one, Adelheid could rest easier.

She dipped her quill generously in ink and carefully signed her name at the bottom of the parchment. She waved it back and forth until the ink dried, then rolled it up and returned it to Yanik.

Yanik tucked the parchment away but lingered, hesitating.

"Um, excuse me... Your Grace."

Adelheid, who had been holding up an old garment Margaret handed her to examine it in the light, glanced at Yanik.

"Is there something else?"

"Ah, well, that is..."

He scratched his head as though deeply troubled.

Adelheid guessed the reason for his hesitation, and expression slowly drained from her face.

At the same moment, the door to her chambers opened with a click.

Adelheid froze like a small animal encountering its natural predator. Beyond the open door stood a face she hadn't seen in a very long time.

"......"

She could feel those golden eyes tracking her reactions with obsessive precision.

Her suddenly shallow breathing. The tremor in her throat. The trembling of her fingertips. His gaze traveled slowly downward, cataloging each involuntary response, then rose again to meet hers directly.

In that suffocating standoff, Yanik announced belatedly in a voice that wanted to crawl under the floorboards:

"His Grace the Grand Duke has come to see you."

The inner chamber, emptied of the maids who'd been packing and of Yanik himself, fell into uncommon silence.

Neither spoke first—a tense standoff. At least, that's how it felt to Adelheid.

That he'd barged into her chambers meant Valentin's patience had finally run dry.

Adelheid studied him carefully while pretending not to.

"......"

They'd said he'd been skipping meals constantly. His gaunt face carried a strangely decadent quality—an aesthetic of beautiful decay.

His appearance had always been inhumanly, excessively beautiful. Now, with melancholy added to those features, he looked—maddeningly—almost pitiable.

"...What do you want."

Sensing they might spend eternity simply glaring at each other, she broke the silence first.

Valentin's gaze swept across the room—across the space the servants had abandoned in their hasty retreat. The bags lying open, contents exposed without concealment. Clothing stacked neatly beside them. Worn belts, gloves...

Though she'd recently had new clothes and accessories made, she still preferred the items she'd used for so long.

Adelheid realized his gaze lingered on a pair of thoroughly worn gloves.

"You're packing."

"If that's what you came to say, there was no need to come to my chambers."

"Pack lightly. You can buy, what you need in the, capital."

He continued as though he hadn't registered her cold response.

"That's not necessary."

"......"

"More precisely, you have no reason to buy me such things."

Valentin tried to smile, then crumpled into something close to tears at her rejection—a cycle that repeated itself several times, which she pretended not to notice.

Truthfully, she still resented him.

Especially remembering the voice that had asked if she found him pitiable. What had that question truly meant?

"Adele. I..."

When her eyes narrowed sharply, he spoke in a rush.

"I don't want to, withhold anything from you. Whatever you want to, do or have, truly any, thing..."

"What I want is your answer."

"That..."

"How honest have you been with me all this time?"

He fell silent again. Adelheid watched coldly as he struggled to maintain even the ghost of a smile.

"Adelheid. I..."

"Whatever you plan to do from now on, I won't find you pitiable. So please use whichever method of communication is comfortable for you."

His speech impediment had been worsening progressively. Adelheid made the request firmly.

Listening to him struggle made her heart soften against her will—an involuntary weakening she couldn't afford.

Better to cement in her mind that this man had no soul—that he was merely a monster wearing human skin.

But Valentin rejected her suggestion.

"I don't, want to do, that."

"Why not?"

"Mental communication has no, honorifics. No one thinks, in formal speech. It would be very efficient, communi, cation..."

"I don't understand what that has to do with anything."

"I want to respect, you..."

Respect. A convenient excuse dressed in noble language. Adelheid clenched her skirt until her knuckles whitened.

"So you respect me so much you still won't answer my questions?"

"Because you might, be hurt."

"Not telling me hurts more. That day, I..."

Adelheid swallowed the suffocating breath lodged in her throat, forcing it back down.

"I thought you truly meant to kill me."

A tear that had welled up suddenly dropped onto her pale cheek. Plop. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, bewildered by her own reaction.

Betrayal, rage, revulsion, horror...

The emotions that surged when she thought of him were so scalding and violent that she never imagined the first words from her mouth would expose such vulnerable territory.

Even more disconcerting—once the tears began, she couldn't stop them.

"......"

The tears pooled and spilled down her cheeks and chin in streams.

She couldn't bring herself to wipe them away properly—simply let them fall unchecked.

Drip, drip.

"Adele."

Valentin stood frozen, face blanched as though he'd witnessed something forbidden.

After keeping her at arm's length all this time, he seemed to have forgotten even the simple human gesture of wiping away tears. Perhaps such human sentiment had never existed in him to begin with.

Through her blurred vision, she saw his lips finally move.

"That wasn't my, will. It was an, accident."

"An accident."

She nearly laughed—a hard, brittle sound threatening to crack through her chest.

His excuse hadn't deviated one inch from her expectations. To have endured all this for such a crude, inadequate explanation...

Adelheid scrubbed at her wet eyelids more roughly. He reached out as if to stop her.

"Your eyes, you'll hurt them."

When she flinched at his hand, Valentin turned to stone—a sculpture abandoned mid-gesture.

That large hand, suspended in empty air, slowly curled closed as though grasping at nothing.

His face had gone the blue-white of someone strangled. He seemed to have forgotten even how to breathe.

"Please don't, cry..."

"......"

"I was, wrong. About every, thing."

"Why did you come here."

Adelheid turned away from him, wiping her cheeks again with the back of her hand.

The words came easier once she wasn't facing him directly.

She felt humiliated for having sobbed like a child, but after this victory celebration, they wouldn't need to see each other for quite some time anyway.

So it was fine.

"I haven't forgotten the contract—the agreement to help you. I'll attend the victory celebration. I won't do anything to undermine you. If we need to appear as a loving couple publicly... I'll comply accordingly."

"That's not why, I came."

"Then what?"

"I wanted to give you, this."

Adelheid raised her eyes slightly to see what "this" was.

It was an intricately crafted dagger. The blade was made of silver, with a turquoise gem set near the hilt. The overall shape resembled a bastard sword in miniature.

"......"

She reflexively accepted what he offered.

The short blade that had looked like a modest dirk in Valentin's gloved hands felt substantial and long in hers—heavy with intent.

Even gripping it with both palms, the tip protruded beyond her hands.

"What is this..."