Upon arriving back at the grand ducal estate from the imperial palace, Casimir immediately shut himself in the late Grand Duke’s study—now officially his own.

The head butler approached Baron Elfon, who stood in the hallway gazing at the family portrait of three.

“Baron, about that newly hired maid you mentioned before.”

Only then did Elfon’s melancholy expression shift, as if he’d just remembered such a matter. In truth, with all the recent commotion, he had genuinely forgotten about it.

“Should we send a carriage?”

“Hm… I did say I’d come pick her up in a couple of days.”

“His Grace said not to disturb him and to only call him during meal times.”

“I haven’t told him about the newly hired maid yet, but I don’t think it would matter much.”

“I think so too. Besides, the Baron is mainly in charge of all the estate’s employees.”

“Then I’ll depart shortly.”

Elfon glanced once more at the lifelike painting, then turned his gaze toward the tightly closed study door.

****

Casimir stood before the wide desk, staring at the family portrait mounted on the wall. The vivid smiles of the three seemed so lifelike that he could almost hear their soft laughter echoing in his ears. He could almost feel his mother’s gentle hands caressing his face and his father’s large, rough hands ruffling his hair.

But now he couldn’t remember how he used to laugh. What did he sound like when laughing? What was the feeling? It seemed that all that remained within him was a cold, deep abyss.

Casimir shifted his gaze downward to a small globe-shaped object on the desk. This had been a gift from his uncle, Count Milan, on his thirteenth birthday. It was a spherical object, transparent, with a miniature black sword suspended inside, twirling with every movement of the globe. The sword appeared vivid, as if a real blade had been shrunk down and placed within.

He picked it up and shook it. The sword inside twirled, even glinting at the edge as if proclaiming its sharpness. Since he had always liked swords, when the Count spotted this while touring outside the capital, he had purchased it immediately.

At most, it was just a decoration to entertain a child.

He set it back down, walked around the table, and sat in the chair.

****

“Done.”

Aveline wiped the sweat from her forehead and admired her work.

“It seems Miss Aveline is quite skilled at identifying which plants are herbs and which are not.”

Sir Dion looked at the two sorted groups of green shrubs, nodding his head approvingly.

“My mother used to gather herbs, and I always went along with her, so I can more or less identify which is which. By the way, where did Sir Dion acquire these herbs?”

“There’s a greenhouse at the back that grows herbs, but these particular ones I got from a merchant. Supposedly, they’re more effective than what we grow in the greenhouse.”

Dion picked up one bundle and stuffed it back into its package, while preparing the other bundle for washing.

“But why would you need these specific herbs?”

Aveline gazed back at the herbs. In fact, she recognized most of them—no, all of them—and these were all herbs for treating insomnia.

“Reports came in that His Grace has had trouble sleeping for a year now. The people at the border tried every herb and remedy for insomnia, but nothing worked. So we’ve been searching for alternative remedies, and who knew we’d stumble upon a merchant selling exotic herbs.”

Dion’s face beamed with joy. However, Aveline bit her lip and furrowed her brows.

[Ave, this is portrin, gespina, conder… these are herbs for insomnia.]

[Mama, aren’t there already herbs for insomnia? Not like these ones—that one with red on the leaves, that one with yellow buds.]

[Haha, I know. But these are special.]

[How?]

[Because these only grow on our village’s back mountain.]

‘But didn’t the back mountain burn along with the village?’

‘When I ran away that night, the mountain was definitely on fire. And since the wind was fierce, it caused the flames to spread rapidly toward the stream. There’s no way these herbs could have survived.’

[Why?]

[Because the back mountain is Sera—]

Aveline immediately staggered back and clutched her pounding head. She felt as though a nail was being constantly hammered into her skull. A pained groan escaped through her gritted teeth as she stumbled backward.

“Hey—”

Dion looked alarmed and swiftly steadied her falling body. He was confused—one moment she had been fine, and now she looked as if she were in pain.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Miss Aveline?”

‘That name. Every time.’

“Miss?”

“I-I’m fine.” She gasped for breath, taking a deep inhale.

“I’ll recover soon.”

“What happened? You suddenly…”

“I’m very sorry. It must be because I stayed under the sun for too long this afternoon.”

Dion helped her steady herself and guided her to a shaded area.

“It’s my fault, Miss Aveline, for requesting your help. I’ll get you water to drink right away.”

Aveline leaned her head against the back wall of the woodshed and slowly steadied her breathing. Feeling the beads of sweat cascading down her face, she wiped them away again with her already damp sleeve.