Chapter 32.1

Hazel’s voice, a gentle murmur, accompanied the rhythmic strokes of her brush through Elena’s hair, cascading it delicately over her shoulders.

“If you’re open to acquiring noble etiquette under my guidance, I can secure your permission to exit this room,” Hazel suggested in a hushed tone.

Elena, puzzled, responded, “But I already mentioned that it’s not necessary. What does that have to do with how I leave this place?”

Observing Elena with a discerning gaze, Hazel remarked, “You truly have a narrow perspective. It appears the common folk struggle to see beyond their immediate circumstances.”

Despite a surge of anger within Elena, she suppressed it swiftly. She couldn’t afford to reveal such emotions to a noble lady.

“You need to leave this room to organically discover an opportunity to depart the castle, correct? If you remain confined and manage to escape, the knights will face consequences from their lord. However, if you vanish alongside me, perhaps to the village,” Hazel explained, nonchalantly tapping Elena’s shoulder as if indifferent to her emotions.

Contemplating the implications, Elena inquired, “What if the lord holds you responsible?”

“He won’t,” Hazel assured, straightening up and adjusting her posture. “I’m not the one safeguarding you. It doesn’t make sense for a noble to protect a commoner; the dynamics would be different the other way around.”

Elena found herself caught in a moment of indecision regarding Hazel’s proposition. The young knight, displaying a hint of impatience, inquired, “Are you still not done?”

Casting a furtive glance at the knights and Carmen, Elena redirected her attention to Hazel. “I need time to think,” she said.

Her proposal lingered in the air, like a whisper of a devil tempting her, and yet, Elena reflected the lack of alternatives she faced. The truth was, complying with Hazel’s intentions was not a simple matter, primarily because she remained in the dark about the motives behind the aristocrat’s proposal.

“You demand a high price. As the daughter of Duke Blade, I, an aristocrat, am offering you such an opportunity even though you are nothing special,” Hazel remarked.

“I understand. Please give me a little more time,” Elena requested, bowing her head respectfully to Hazel as she took a step back.

The approaching knights, having observed Elena’s entrance, edged closer to the door. Elena, with deliberate slowness, closed the door behind her while stealing a parting glance at Hazel.

Confidence adorned Hazel’s countenance, a self-assured smile playing on her lips, as if she harbored certainty that Elena would ultimately succumb to her proposal without question.

***

Reclined on the plush bed, Elena found herself gazing contemplatively at the ceiling. The bed cradled her in softness, and the room enveloped her in a comforting warmth. Despite her consistent lack of appetite during meal times, Cura, ever generous, continued to present an array of dishes. A daily bath with Cura was a welcomed luxury, even though the vigilant presence of the knights, stationed outside the bathroom, posed a constant challenge.

Yet, as long as Elena refrained from engaging in any particular activities, each day unfolded in a conspicuous display of opulence within her confinement.

A weary sigh escaped her lips.

Hazel’s proposal, persistent in her thoughts, cast a shadow over the otherwise serene routine. Is there truly no other way? Perhaps tomorrow, the Duke might reconsider and grant my release. However, the fragile hope that his sentiments might shift overnight held little credibility. If it were that simple for his emotions to change, Elena reasoned, she wouldn’t find herself confined in the first place.

An involuntary groan escaped her lips as she shifted to her side, pain flaring in her shoulder. Clutching the afflicted area with her palm, she endeavored to stifle her breath, gradually finding relief as the pain subsided.

Elena rose from the bed with deliberate slowness, relying on her uninjured arm to push herself upright. The prospect of yet another sleepless night loomed before her like an unwelcome companion. As she prepared to discard the sheets and furs, her gaze, initially fixed on the floor in search of her woolen indoor slippers, abruptly lifted.

Her attention fixated on the door leading to the terrace, shrouded in darkness and obscured by the presence of thick velvet curtains. Despite the visual barrier, an unspoken awareness settled within her—someone occupied the terrace, and she knew precisely who that person was. A palpable chill crept through her body, yet she remained rooted to the spot on the floor, an unseen force compelling her towards the terrace door.

With trepidation, she reached the door but hesitated, even when standing right before it. With trembling fingertips, she gingerly lifted a portion of the overlapping velvet curtain.

Leaning against the railing, gazing into the garden, was Kennard. In the moonlight, his silhouette projected a strength and imposing presence unmatched in the darkness. An unexpected pang of concern gripped Elena. Why does he look so lonely? 

Shaking her head at the absurdity of her own thoughts, she continued to observe Kennard’s back in silence.

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