Chapter 11

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 11

Chapter Title: Crocodile Hunt

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"Clodel should take a look at this. Right away."

"Yes, of course."

The butler set the list and invitation samples down on his desk before stepping back.

Kaiyan, uncharacteristically hurried, headed straight for Clodel's room. Maids scrubbing the floor gasped in surprise at his brisk pace, as if he were rushing to some emergency, but he paid them no mind.

How long has it been?

Since the day Clodel had been too ill to attend the banquet, she'd spent days bedridden.

She hadn't even stepped out for meals.

If there had been some natural chance to run into her, he might have struck up a conversation, but no such opportunity had arisen.

About a week, I suppose.

Clodel's door stood in eerily empty silence.

The tension between House Temneth and House Vermonte cut both ways. Applause doesn't happen without hands clapping, after all.

Clodel was House Vermonte, refusing to extend a hand.

Kaiyan had sensed something off about her not quite fitting the Vermonte mold, and the servants surely noticed it too.

If they bullied or snubbed her and she snapped back with bared claws, it might have been satisfying to clap down on her—but her feisty maid was the only one raging, while Clodel stayed quietly unresponsive. It must have felt pointless.

Still, shouldn't there at least be a guard?

This left the lady lord's room wide open for anyone to barge in unnoticed.

Thinking he'd have to chew out the castle guard captain later, Kaiyan knocked on Clodel's door.

The room inside was silent.

Where could she be?

Puzzled, Kaiyan quietly eased the door open.

Even in midsummer, the thick stone walls and smooth interior plaster kept the room pleasantly cool.

Yet the lack of any human presence made it feel desolate.

"Must be out for a walk."

The hand holding the list and invitations went slack, strength draining away.

He'd come with the thought that since he hadn't seen Clodel lately, he could use this as an excuse to talk about the hunting tournament and ease into a natural conversation.

Without her there to engage, the next step was a problem.

Should he just leave?

Or wait for her return?

Maybe sit on the sofa? He turned his head, and his eyes widened.

Clodel was in the room he'd thought empty.

A small, slender body lay buried in the large, fluffy bed, tucked neatly under the covers.

She's here, and I didn't even notice?

Normally, someone lying in bed would make the covers bulge.

But Clodel, nestled among the thick goose-down duvet and pillows, blended so seamlessly that it was impossible to tell if the bed's fullness came from her or just the bedding.

Kaiyan approached the bed quietly, careful not to wake her.

Was she always this tiny?

He held his hand over her face, marveling anew.

Her entire face could fit in his palm; she looked impossibly small.

Thinner even than he remembered, as if she'd shrunk. He studied her closely.

The deeply sleeping woman breathed so faintly her respiration was nearly silent.

Her flawless white skin, the lashes on her closed eyelids, the brows arching above them—all were the same vivid red as her hair.

She looked so peaceful that he crossed his arms, sat in the chair by the bed, and began watching her.

On the other hand, he wondered what to say when she woke.

Kaiyan had never bowed to anyone.

In this tangled situation, it was clearly his role to extend a hand and let her soften.

But the words stuck in his throat—that was the problem.

A house head's dignity came from never bending.

Facing something he'd never done before head-on was proving tricky.

"Mm..."

Suddenly, Clodel rolled toward him.

Kaiyan shot to his feet, thinking she'd woken, but it was just her sleeping habit.

He sat back down quietly, propped his chin, and resumed watching her sleep.

Then something caught his eye.

The button ornament—the root of all this mess—was still on her finger.

Quite some time had passed since that incident. Why?

Even now, it just looked like a slender ring; without the context, it suited her well.

Does she like rings?

His mother's blue diamond would be absurd on her delicate fingers—even on her thumb, it'd spin loose.

Fingers varied in thickness, naturally.

He'd never thought to gift anyone a ring, so he wouldn't know basics like resizing first.

But seeing her still wearing it dampened the excitement he'd felt at the chance to talk.

I'll give her a different ring. Take that one off.

As Kaiyan reached carefully to remove it from her finger—

Click.

The door opened. Hanna entered with a large vase of thick-stemmed white freesias and startled at the sight of him.

"Your Grace."

Hanna hurriedly set down the vase and bowed. At the sound of her voice, Clodel's eyes fluttered open.

Fresh from sleep, Clodel's drowsiness vanished, replaced by sharp clarity. But her wide golden eyes filled instantly with unease.

Seeing it soured his mood right away. What had he done to make her face him like that the moment their eyes met?

Kaiyan sprang up and barked.

"You seem utterly unconcerned with the lady lord's dignity."

"...Your Grace."

Clodel quickly rose from the bed and bowed her head.

In that moment, as she pushed back the covers, her exposed ankle looked even thinner than his wrist, making him grimace.

Touching her in the dark at night was different from seeing her in the light.

The woman before him seemed far more gaunt than in his memories.

"What brings you here?"

He hadn't expected a warm welcome. Seeing her shrink back in fear made all the lines he'd mulled over for a week—ideas for what to say—go to waste.

"Planning to lounge around Rowen Castle forever?"

He tossed the list and invitations onto her bed.

"The butler has everything organized. Write a note asking them to attend, sign it, and have it sorted by tomorrow. Bring it to the study. Or pass it to the butler."

He stormed out of her bedroom and slammed the door.

Instant regret hit him.

"...Am I insane?"

House Vermonte had always been like foxes with tails aflame—cunning, sly, twisting people with their silver tongues.

When they wielded that for Oberon Kingdom diplomacy, they shone. But deceiving the straightforward, hot-blooded martial House Temneth? It never meshed.

If Temneth stabbed hearts and severed necks, Vermonte could infuriate someone to death with words alone.

Clodel had none of that venom.

Yet Kaiyan kept spouting nonsense at her, frustrating him to madness.

"This isn't what I wanted."

His sharp mind replayed the scene.

From the moment he glimpsed her pale, slender bare leg as she pushed back the covers to rise, his mind had blanked.

And then he'd blurted soulless words and bolted.

"Why do I do that? Why?"

If he'd just charmed her with a few words, eased her mood, those legs he saw might have been wrapped around his waist tonight.

Kaiyan raked his hair roughly and headed to his study.

Kaiyan's visit struck like lightning.

Short and intense.

After he left, Clodel's mind reeled for a moment.

"What was that? Bursting in out of nowhere. Accusing me of lounging around. The nerve."

The moment Kaiyan was gone, Hanna's demeanor turned insolent.

"I have been lying around, it's true. But think about how the duchess usually handles things. She'd find me pathetic."

Hanna sighed as she straightened the bed.

"Pathetic? You've barely slept for days and finally caught a short nap. If only you'd slept longer."

The Duchess of Valmond, lady of Valmond Castle, managed her lands meticulously.

In Valmond, where over half the ground lay frozen, her efforts helped people put down roots.

She personally visited homes around Mog Hill's ice valley, where the castle stood, to check on newborns.

The lady of Temneth Castle should be just as busy, yet no handover or instructions had come for Clodel.

It stung to feel ignored, but part of her was glad no one expected her to bustle about—like someone on the verge of leaving.

"At least he gave you work."

Clodel picked up the discarded list and invitations from the bed.

"Don't do it. It's ridiculous."

"He said by tomorrow."

"Who cares? Want me to do it instead? I'll write it with my foot."

Hanna said it in deadly earnest.

Clodel sat by the window, set the list down, and neatly pulled invitations from their envelopes, stacking them.

...Temneth.

She hadn't truly felt her name change from Vermonte to Temneth.

Was that why he'd given her this task?

To make her realize she was Temneth now.

Ink flowed from Clodel's pen, spelling "Temneth" across the invitations one by one.

The day of the crocodile hunt arrived.

Kaiyan was in a foul mood.

He'd told her to deliver the invitations herself, and she had—without using the butler.

Just when he'd stepped away briefly with Burbrook to commend locals bringing fruits for the castle.

If she'd gone through the butler, he wouldn't be this irritated.

Thinking of Clodel muddled his head and words into chaos, so he stopped analyzing why he was angry.

No matter what, things twisted with her.

Accepting it dulled the agitation.

Clodel wore light brown deer boots, a white dress falling to her knees, and a matching leather vest. Her long red hair, reaching her waist, was braided loosely into one thick plait, topped with a large white hat. She looked almost girlish.

Since she hadn't appeared at the banquet, those seeing her for the first time stared eagerly.

Kaiyan felt a surge—screw the hunt, drag her to the tent meant for rests and talk.

Focus.

Catching a crocodile alone was usually impossible.

Kaiyan could manage it, so he stirred up the hunt, snagged a decent one, and dusted his hands.

But today, distractions plagued him—thanks to Clodel unsettling his heart?

...That thought had just crossed his mind.

"Watch out!"

Clodel, beside him, shoved him hard. He tumbled sideways from the platform overlooking the participants, down to the stepped lower ground.

"What the—"

As Kaiyan rose, his eyes locked on a massive crocodile chomping where he'd stood moments ago.

Its eyes fixed on Clodel, jaws gaping ferociously.

"No!"

The hunting ground erupted into pandemonium, filled with screams.