“So that’s where it was. Is it possible that Michael, that bastard, also knows about this and is stuck there?”
Kyle nodded, indicating that he thought so too, then blushed.
“I will guide you personally, so please forgive me. You can do whatever you want with him, whether you kill him or not.”
“As long as that woman is safe, that’s all that matters, right?”
Winston smiled meaningfully. Kyle didn't respond. It was as if he'd already been caught, but it didn't matter. Even if Angie knew that he was his greatest weakness, there was nothing he could do about it.
“Very well. For now, I will transfer you to the Royal Prison. However, the pardon is on hold. It will take a few days to get approval from the Privy Council and the Judicial Council.”
“Please let it be known externally that I am in this Stone Tower. It would be to Your Highness’s advantage if Te Deum does not know anything about it.”
“Yes. I will make an unexpected visit to Te Deum in three days. You must disguise yourself as my personal guard and stay by my side.”
Kyle tried to suppress the laughter that threatened to burst out. It was obvious that he was using him as a shield just in case. But whatever it was, it didn't matter.
Te Deum would devour the Grand Duke as a sacrifice. The moment Winston set foot on it, the lake that had been the domain of the Gods in ancient times would become his grave. He had no doubt that it would happen.
Someone was beating her whole body with a wet leather belt. The whip cut through her thin muslin nightgown like a blade. She couldn't even scream. It was a dream and not a dream at the same time. The dream was repeating exactly what had happened a while ago.
Stop it, Michael! Please stop it!
Angie tried to kneel and beg, but her body wouldn’t move. She tried to pretend to submit, as Annette had said, but she couldn’t hide it. Somewhere in her thigh, there was a bursting smell of blood. The cold air from the cold floor pierced through the thin cloth. The beating stopped only when her body completely fell down.
The moment Angie opened her eyes, she was in a completely different space. She was still standing in her pajamas, looking frantically for someone.
Noah, Noah...! Baby. Where are you? Mommy is here.
In the empty space left alone, silvery sand was swirling around. It was hard to tell if it was a sand field or a white sand beach. The child was nowhere to be found. Just a moment ago, she felt like she was holding him in her arms. Even now, the warmth was still there, but his true form had completely disappeared.
Noah, Noah! Baby!
No matter how much Angie screamed at the top of her lungs, Noah didn't show up. It was difficult to walk because of the strong sandstorm and the sand grains covering her vision. Something hot surged inside her. Without realizing it, tears were flowing from her sandy eyes.
There was no Kyle, no Noah, no Bryn, no Martin, no Grandma Catherine, no Uncle Willem, no one. Angie was standing alone in the desolate sandstorm all around her. Her world was empty.
Angie lay unconscious, like a corpse. Michael sat at the head of the bed, not taking his eyes off her. On the nightstand was a basin of hot water, a clean cloth, several folded towels, and bottles of medicine.
Angie had been feeling unexplained aches and pains since two nights ago when she was locked in the basement for the second time and whipped. Her whole body felt hot with a fever, like a patient. She was going into a coma, then waking up from a nightmare, then losing consciousness again.
Michael wiped the sweat from Angie's forehead with a worried face. It was heartbreaking to see the bruises here and there on her neck and arms, under her long, messy blond hair. He didn't want to hurt her, but he failed to control his anger every time.
He took the ointment out of the drawer. His fingertips were trembling as he reapplied the ointment, even though the ointment he had applied an hour ago was still gleaming. He covered Angie's neck with a down comforter and muttered an appeal.
“Angie, I was wrong... Please cheer up.”
I won't lock you in the basement again. I won't hurt you.
Kyle nodded, indicating that he thought so too, then blushed.
“I will guide you personally, so please forgive me. You can do whatever you want with him, whether you kill him or not.”
“As long as that woman is safe, that’s all that matters, right?”
Winston smiled meaningfully. Kyle didn't respond. It was as if he'd already been caught, but it didn't matter. Even if Angie knew that he was his greatest weakness, there was nothing he could do about it.
“Very well. For now, I will transfer you to the Royal Prison. However, the pardon is on hold. It will take a few days to get approval from the Privy Council and the Judicial Council.”
“Please let it be known externally that I am in this Stone Tower. It would be to Your Highness’s advantage if Te Deum does not know anything about it.”
“Yes. I will make an unexpected visit to Te Deum in three days. You must disguise yourself as my personal guard and stay by my side.”
Kyle tried to suppress the laughter that threatened to burst out. It was obvious that he was using him as a shield just in case. But whatever it was, it didn't matter.
Te Deum would devour the Grand Duke as a sacrifice. The moment Winston set foot on it, the lake that had been the domain of the Gods in ancient times would become his grave. He had no doubt that it would happen.
***
Someone was beating her whole body with a wet leather belt. The whip cut through her thin muslin nightgown like a blade. She couldn't even scream. It was a dream and not a dream at the same time. The dream was repeating exactly what had happened a while ago.
Stop it, Michael! Please stop it!
Angie tried to kneel and beg, but her body wouldn’t move. She tried to pretend to submit, as Annette had said, but she couldn’t hide it. Somewhere in her thigh, there was a bursting smell of blood. The cold air from the cold floor pierced through the thin cloth. The beating stopped only when her body completely fell down.
The moment Angie opened her eyes, she was in a completely different space. She was still standing in her pajamas, looking frantically for someone.
Noah, Noah...! Baby. Where are you? Mommy is here.
In the empty space left alone, silvery sand was swirling around. It was hard to tell if it was a sand field or a white sand beach. The child was nowhere to be found. Just a moment ago, she felt like she was holding him in her arms. Even now, the warmth was still there, but his true form had completely disappeared.
Noah, Noah! Baby!
No matter how much Angie screamed at the top of her lungs, Noah didn't show up. It was difficult to walk because of the strong sandstorm and the sand grains covering her vision. Something hot surged inside her. Without realizing it, tears were flowing from her sandy eyes.
There was no Kyle, no Noah, no Bryn, no Martin, no Grandma Catherine, no Uncle Willem, no one. Angie was standing alone in the desolate sandstorm all around her. Her world was empty.
Angie lay unconscious, like a corpse. Michael sat at the head of the bed, not taking his eyes off her. On the nightstand was a basin of hot water, a clean cloth, several folded towels, and bottles of medicine.
Angie had been feeling unexplained aches and pains since two nights ago when she was locked in the basement for the second time and whipped. Her whole body felt hot with a fever, like a patient. She was going into a coma, then waking up from a nightmare, then losing consciousness again.
Michael wiped the sweat from Angie's forehead with a worried face. It was heartbreaking to see the bruises here and there on her neck and arms, under her long, messy blond hair. He didn't want to hurt her, but he failed to control his anger every time.
He took the ointment out of the drawer. His fingertips were trembling as he reapplied the ointment, even though the ointment he had applied an hour ago was still gleaming. He covered Angie's neck with a down comforter and muttered an appeal.
“Angie, I was wrong... Please cheer up.”
I won't lock you in the basement again. I won't hurt you.
He folded his hands in prayer and lowered his head. But he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise if the same situation arose again.
She no longer mentioned Kyle. She no longer called Michael a monster. She no longer resisted in vain. But her gaze toward him remained the same. No, her hostile gaze was growing more intense.
Her beautiful green eyes had once held only warmth and kindness towards him. But now they were filled with different emotions. Disillusionment, wariness, and hatred that he had never seen before seemed to overflow and form a flood.
Those eyes drove Michael crazy. It was as if her contempt had been transferred to him, and he felt disgusted and terrible about himself. He needed time to adjust now, and no matter how much he understood and accepted it in his head, he could not suppress his anger and self-loathing.
Angie, you too will eventually come to terms with reality. We can be happy at Te Deum. No, Hedestad or wherever.
The lost functions of his body had not yet been healed. He tried various methods, bringing in women who came as maids every night, but there was no improvement. But he could not give up like this.
He would achieve immortality and establish his own kingdom, just as his predecessor, John Fitzroy Blackwell, had originally dreamed of. But he would not follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, his father Edward, or his father's first wife Eugenia, who had all been turned into undead.
He had no intention of having a first child with Angie. Unfortunately, she already knew about Eternity and would never accept the reality of her child being sacrificed. That would really drive him crazy.
It doesn't matter who the other woman is. Angie will never find out.
Angie's voice, which had accused him of being a monster, echoed. Michael's heart ached again. But he believed that she would understand as time passed.
Everyone longed for and desired eternal life and immortality. Especially when they had overwhelming wealth and power. It was in line with the innate human desire for survival. The value of finitude and the providence of nature were nothing but sophistry.
Everyone wants to live a little longer, even if it is not eternal life. Isn't it natural to want to enjoy that wealth and power for just one more day, just one more moment? To him and the helpers, it was the providence of nature and a natural desire. He never wanted to experience the moment when he was young, when he suffered from albino disease, and was afraid that he would die.
So Angie, please don't hate me. Don't show me any hostility, contempt, disgust, or anything.
It would be great if the forgetfulness medicine, rose tea, that was often used on Cullinan Island still existed. Unfortunately, when the island caught fire, the special grass and variety were completely destroyed. The fire spread to the outbuildings of Blackwell Heights, and the seeds that were stored in the vault were also reduced to ashes and were long gone.
There was a drug that would make her sleepwalk for a few hours, but it wouldn't reset Angie's memories. So the only way was to convince her again and again until she completely gave up and changed her mind.
The seeds of Eternity, left for the future generations and the helpers, were fortunately stored underground in Te Deum. Now all that was needed was the blood of the second generation who inherited his genes. No matter how long it took, if his eternity continued safely for several years, Angie and the helpers would also share the medicine's benefits.
“Angie. I love you. I think it’s been that way since the day we first met at my father’s funeral.”
So I'll be with you forever, Angie.
He made up his mind again. He was ready to do anything to keep her by his side. If he had to damage something, if he had to, he would do it.
“No... Ah...”
At that moment, Angie muttered. Michael looked at her in surprise. She was still asleep, so he reached out a hand to calm her down.
“No... Ah... My baby... Baby, baby...!”
Michael's hand stopped in midair.
“Baby... Mom... I’m sorry... Noah... Mom, I’ll go quickly...!"
Angie kept her eyes tightly shut as she repeated her pitiful promise. The content was too clear to be a sleep talk. And the target was clear.
Who is Noah...
Michael took his hand away completely and thought for a moment. He left Angie’s bedroom, entered the study, and unlocked the storage cabinet. Then he took out information about Angie’s acquaintances that he had researched before.
On Rubenville Street in the Citadel, the names of the Armitage family were lined up. He was looking through them again to see if he had missed anything. One name caught his eye.
Noah Silva Armitage.
On the family register, it was unclear whether he was a distant relative of Willem van Armitage or a child of Bryn Silva and Martin da Silva. On the other hand, there was no such ambiguity with Patricia Silva. The name clearly seemed to be that of the Silva couple.
Michael put down the paper he was holding. For some reason, the puzzle in his head seemed to be coming together. He hurriedly left the mansion and ran to the dock. After all, the locals would know the villagers better than Mrs. Dunst. The boatman who was resting in the pavilion of the pergola stood up when he saw him.
“Heinrich. If there’s a midwife in town, please find out. Right now.”
“Huh? Are you talking about the midwife?”
“Yes. It has to be someone as experienced and skilled as possible.”
After Michael saw the captain's boat set sail, he headed straight for the butler's chamber.
Maybe... things will work out a lot easier.
Hope spread across his face as he hurriedly walked. His heart swelled with anticipation, a hope that would be absolute despair to some.
She no longer mentioned Kyle. She no longer called Michael a monster. She no longer resisted in vain. But her gaze toward him remained the same. No, her hostile gaze was growing more intense.
Her beautiful green eyes had once held only warmth and kindness towards him. But now they were filled with different emotions. Disillusionment, wariness, and hatred that he had never seen before seemed to overflow and form a flood.
Those eyes drove Michael crazy. It was as if her contempt had been transferred to him, and he felt disgusted and terrible about himself. He needed time to adjust now, and no matter how much he understood and accepted it in his head, he could not suppress his anger and self-loathing.
Angie, you too will eventually come to terms with reality. We can be happy at Te Deum. No, Hedestad or wherever.
The lost functions of his body had not yet been healed. He tried various methods, bringing in women who came as maids every night, but there was no improvement. But he could not give up like this.
He would achieve immortality and establish his own kingdom, just as his predecessor, John Fitzroy Blackwell, had originally dreamed of. But he would not follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, his father Edward, or his father's first wife Eugenia, who had all been turned into undead.
He had no intention of having a first child with Angie. Unfortunately, she already knew about Eternity and would never accept the reality of her child being sacrificed. That would really drive him crazy.
It doesn't matter who the other woman is. Angie will never find out.
Angie's voice, which had accused him of being a monster, echoed. Michael's heart ached again. But he believed that she would understand as time passed.
Everyone longed for and desired eternal life and immortality. Especially when they had overwhelming wealth and power. It was in line with the innate human desire for survival. The value of finitude and the providence of nature were nothing but sophistry.
Everyone wants to live a little longer, even if it is not eternal life. Isn't it natural to want to enjoy that wealth and power for just one more day, just one more moment? To him and the helpers, it was the providence of nature and a natural desire. He never wanted to experience the moment when he was young, when he suffered from albino disease, and was afraid that he would die.
So Angie, please don't hate me. Don't show me any hostility, contempt, disgust, or anything.
It would be great if the forgetfulness medicine, rose tea, that was often used on Cullinan Island still existed. Unfortunately, when the island caught fire, the special grass and variety were completely destroyed. The fire spread to the outbuildings of Blackwell Heights, and the seeds that were stored in the vault were also reduced to ashes and were long gone.
There was a drug that would make her sleepwalk for a few hours, but it wouldn't reset Angie's memories. So the only way was to convince her again and again until she completely gave up and changed her mind.
The seeds of Eternity, left for the future generations and the helpers, were fortunately stored underground in Te Deum. Now all that was needed was the blood of the second generation who inherited his genes. No matter how long it took, if his eternity continued safely for several years, Angie and the helpers would also share the medicine's benefits.
“Angie. I love you. I think it’s been that way since the day we first met at my father’s funeral.”
So I'll be with you forever, Angie.
He made up his mind again. He was ready to do anything to keep her by his side. If he had to damage something, if he had to, he would do it.
“No... Ah...”
At that moment, Angie muttered. Michael looked at her in surprise. She was still asleep, so he reached out a hand to calm her down.
“No... Ah... My baby... Baby, baby...!”
Michael's hand stopped in midair.
“Baby... Mom... I’m sorry... Noah... Mom, I’ll go quickly...!"
Angie kept her eyes tightly shut as she repeated her pitiful promise. The content was too clear to be a sleep talk. And the target was clear.
Who is Noah...
Michael took his hand away completely and thought for a moment. He left Angie’s bedroom, entered the study, and unlocked the storage cabinet. Then he took out information about Angie’s acquaintances that he had researched before.
On Rubenville Street in the Citadel, the names of the Armitage family were lined up. He was looking through them again to see if he had missed anything. One name caught his eye.
Noah Silva Armitage.
On the family register, it was unclear whether he was a distant relative of Willem van Armitage or a child of Bryn Silva and Martin da Silva. On the other hand, there was no such ambiguity with Patricia Silva. The name clearly seemed to be that of the Silva couple.
Michael put down the paper he was holding. For some reason, the puzzle in his head seemed to be coming together. He hurriedly left the mansion and ran to the dock. After all, the locals would know the villagers better than Mrs. Dunst. The boatman who was resting in the pavilion of the pergola stood up when he saw him.
“Heinrich. If there’s a midwife in town, please find out. Right now.”
“Huh? Are you talking about the midwife?”
“Yes. It has to be someone as experienced and skilled as possible.”
After Michael saw the captain's boat set sail, he headed straight for the butler's chamber.
Maybe... things will work out a lot easier.
Hope spread across his face as he hurriedly walked. His heart swelled with anticipation, a hope that would be absolute despair to some.
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