Chapter 33

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Engaged to the Blind Duke
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Marin grabbed the picnic basket and hurried down the stairs, dashing toward the castle's main gate.

Knights mounted on horses and a black four-horse carriage emblazoned with the crest of House Vines came into view.

It was larger and more ornate than the one she had seen before.

“Pant, pant. Your Grace the Duke!”

Marin caught her breath, short from running, and called out to the duke in a small voice.

The duke, already inside the carriage, turned his head toward her.

“Why?”

“This.”

She handed over the picnic basket she had been clutching to her chest. Olive, standing outside the carriage, quickly took it.

“We’ve already prepared plenty of food.”

“It’s not food. It’s like a gift, but not quite a gift—something like that for Your Grace the Duke.”

Olive gave her a look as if to say what on earth are you talking about, but she pretended not to notice.

“Take it.”

“Yes.”

Olive placed the picnic basket inside the carriage.

“Have you finished your business?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

The moment the duke leaned back against the carriage seat, Marin whispered faintly, almost to herself.

“Please be careful... and come back safe.”

All she could see in her vision was the carriage.

Just looking at the carriage filled her with dread. She desperately hoped no one would get hurt.

No one heard her whisper.

Except the duke.

The duke paused and turned his head toward her again.

Though the duke’s eyes were covered, it felt as if their gazes met in the air.

His red lips parted slowly, and the corners of his mouth softened slightly.

“I’ll come back safe.”

Marin’s light green eyes widened in shock at the duke’s unexpected reply.

She didn’t know how he had heard her, but her words had reached him properly.

“Yes!”

Marin beamed and nodded vigorously.

The duke, leaning back against the seat once more, ordered Olive.

“Depart.”

“Yes.”

Olive mounted his horse, and the four-horse carriage swiftly left the castle.

* * *

“Hey, squirt.”

“I’m not a squirt.”

The boy, playing with his toys, puffed out his cheeks and glared at his sister, Monica.

***

Black hair swaying at his waist. Beautiful eyes like black pearls. A sister with the face of an angel.

She was his pride, but he sometimes hated her when she teased him.

“You haven’t even reached my waist yet, so you’re a squirt.”

Her black eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No! I’m not a squirt!!”

“Oh dear. Is our little squirt mad? Shall I give our squirt some candy?”

“Hmph. I’m not playing house with you anymore, Sis.”

The boy crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned his head away sharply.

This time, he wouldn’t forgive her with just candy.

His much older sister was already a grown-up, yet she always teased him.

He absolutely wouldn’t forgive her.

He’d never play house with her again.

“You’ll regret it, you know?”

Monica giggled, drawing out the end of her words.

“Hmph. I don’t care.”

Monica gazed at her puffed-cheek little brother as if he were the cutest thing ever.

“It’s a really, really big candy?”

Monica plopped down in front of the boy and held out a fluffy white cloud candy she had been hiding behind her back.

The boy’s eyes went wide at the sight of the cloud candy he had never seen before.

“Is that candy? It’s not a cloud?”

“I tore it right out of the sky for my little squirt.”

“Wow! Really?”

“Of course. For my little squirt, what’s a cloud? I could pluck down a star too. So you’ll keep playing house with me, right?”

Monica held out her pinky finger, holding back a laugh as if sealing a promise.

“Yeah! Sis! I’ll do it.”

The boy hurriedly hooked his pinky with hers.

Holding the cloud candy, the boy looked up at his sister with eyes full of admiration.

Monica grinned broadly and ruffled his black hair affectionately.

Pretty sister. Brave sister who could pluck clouds and stars. Hehe.

 

“Ow, it hurts! Mom! Dad! Sis! My head hurts. My ears hurt. My nose hurts. My body stings. Waaah!”

The boy rolled around on the floor, screaming endlessly in agony.

The bloodline’s secret had awakened far too early for the five-year-old child.

The duke gritted his teeth and watched his son with pained eyes. Beside him, the duchess swallowed her tears, sharing her son’s suffering in her heart.

At that moment, the door to the boy’s room burst open.

The sound of the door opening boomed like thunder in the boy’s ears, and he fainted while clutching them.

As Monica rushed toward her brother in alarm, the duchess blocked her path.

“Mother.”

“Don’t go near him.”

“He’s in pain! He’s screaming like that—why isn’t anyone comforting him? He’s only five years old!”

When Monica raised her voice, the duchess pressed a finger to her lips, urging silence.

Monica turned a frustrated gaze to her father, the duke.

“Father. Why is he in so much pain?”

Instead of answering his daughter, the duke carefully lifted his son, who had fainted from the pain.

Seeing his daughter’s bewildered look, the duke shook his head slightly.

“...I’m sorry.”

 

Noisy clamor echoed from afar.

The boy slowly opened his closed eyes.

Today was the day his sister was leaving for the south for her wedding.

***

For years, he had been isolated in the spire with the least noise, cut off from all outside contact.

After learning the secret of his bloodline from his father, he had trained only in controlling his five senses.

It had been a terribly long time, yet his senses still ran wild at every turn.

When he first awoke in his room and opened his eyes in this spire, he had thrown a tantrum, demanding to go back.

But after realizing that crying only amplified his own pain, he had shut his mouth.

Being in the highest place meant less noise. Yet even rain brought thunderous agony, causing him to faint.

His heightened sense of taste made food impossible to swallow.

The dust floating in the air was all too visible, so he grew accustomed to living with his eyes closed.

The boy, once full of laughter and energy, gradually lost his words.

As time without interacting with anyone piled up, he became emotionless.

“Hey, squirt.”

Then, faintly from very far away, he heard his sister’s voice.

The boy jumped up and approached the window of the spire.

A high barrier prevented anyone from approaching the spire. Beyond that barrier, under a large tree, stood his sister, whom he hadn’t seen in so long.

His sister was still as beautiful as an angel.

To never forget her face after so long, the boy gazed at her, etching it into his memory.

As if she hadn’t spotted him, she looked up at the top of the spire and continued speaking.

“Can you hear me? I know you can. To hell with the family secret. Who do you think I am? I figured it all out. You can hear my voice from far away, right? Father’s too much. How can he not let me see you when I’m leaving to get married?”

Tears welled up in Monica’s black eyes.

His sister quickly wiped them away with her dress sleeve and spoke bravely.

“Hey, squirt. I’m getting married. He’s a kind, good man. The first time I saw him, I thought an angel had come down from heaven. He’s so handsome, I’m going to keep him for myself.”

A chuckle escaped him. It had been so long since he laughed that the boy touched his lips in surprise.

“I’ll live well, so when you get out of there, come visit me in the south sometime. I’ll send you letters often. Even if you can’t reply, make sure to read them. Got it?”

Like long ago, his sister held out her pinky finger into the air as if making a promise.

The boy reached out into the air as if hooking his pinky with hers.

She dropped her hand and sniffled.

“I wanted to see how big my little squirt has gotten... I’m sorry. I can’t even hug you. I’m sorry, Gerald.”

It was the first time she had called him by name, not squirt.

Soon, Monica fell to her knees on the ground and sobbed like a child.

Gerald rushed to his desk.

He scribbled a message on a handkerchief, wrapped it around a fist-sized stone, and tied it.

Crash.

The stone shattered the window and flew far, far away, landing precisely in front of Monica.

Startled mid-sob, Monica picked up the stone.

Unwrapping the handkerchief from the stone, Monica hugged it to her chest and burst into tears again.