27. The night everything burned
When he approached Birch Castle, the first thing he noticed was the burning smell that wafted through the wind and reached his nostrils. Damien's eyebrows twitched sharply. His hands tightened as he gripped the reins to shake off his ominous feelings.
The absence of any guards guarding the main gate of Birch Castle aggravated his anxiety. The horse carrying Damien traversed the vast ducal grounds more quickly. As they passed the frozen fountain, the dead grass was dug up by their iron-studded hooves.
Damien quickly turned around the castle and entered the backyard. He could clearly see all the servants, including the guards, running towards the backyard. The direction they were running in through the pitch-black darkness was one of the servants’ quarters at the beginning of the birch forest path.
The moment he saw the little hut burning, Damien pulled hard on the reins and gasped for breath. Those running with buckets shouted. Mrs. Dutton, who was running with a large pot full of water, fell to the dirt floor.
“Oh, my lord!!!”
The flames of the cabin, burning fiercely from behind, rose and swayed in the pitch-black night sky. It was no wonder that people were startled by the heat that could be felt even from a distance. Damien jumped down from his horse in a hurry.
“It will burn down soon! It is dangerous to get close, so don’t try to suppress it hastily and calmly step back!!!”
“Hey, Damien...!”
Priscilla, her face covered in tears, ran to him in her nightgown. Damien held her tightly, who seemed almost in a state of confusion, and spoke calmly.
“Calm down, Mom. I won’t be moving anywhere else...”
“Chloe is in there. She... hasn’t come out yet... Ugh!”
Damien's face froze coldly. A large flame was imprinted in his blue eyes as he turned his head. Damien ran towards the burning cabin, leaving Priscilla, who was shaking all over, behind and losing consciousness.
“Master!”
This can't be happening.
“Your Excellency, the Duke!!!”
I can't lose you like this, Chloe.
Bang!
Damien kicked the door to the cabin, and it fell off. He held his breath as he felt the tremendous heat coming from inside.
“Master! No!!!”
Leaving behind the screams of the servants, Damien entered the room that was simmering with flames. Acrid smoke rose from all the furniture, and flames spread everywhere.
“Chloe!!!”
The burnt timbers of the ceiling fell down right before his eyes. The wooden cabin was collapsing here and there in an instant. Damien raised his arm, covered his nose, and shouted her name at the top of his lungs.
“Chloe!!!”
As he entered the cabin, swinging his coat and blocking the flames in front of him, his blue eyes wavered. What he saw was a bed, or rather, the remains of a bed, charred black in the collapsed rubble. The moment he saw something rolling around on the burnt-out bed, he ran through the flames.
“Chloe...”
Damian ran and grabbed the dark figure with his trembling hands. Damien held his breath.
“Ugh!!!”
A bestial roar rose from Damien's vocal cords. His body trembled as he held her in his arms amid the acrid smoke.
“Damien!”
“Master!!!”
The servants' voices were heard entering the doorway. Damien staggered to his feet, wrapping her in his coat. The fireplace, filled with coal and wood, crackled with flames. Damien's arms wrapped around her, tightened. A painful groan escaped his clenched teeth as the debris from the collapsing ceiling fell down on his back.
What made him endure was Chloe in his arms. It didn't matter if her hair melted or her skin melted, as long as she lived. He would be her hand and foot for the rest of her life. The moment Damien left the cabin, the cabin, which had turned into a huge ball of fire, completely collapsed and came crashing down.
“My Lord!!!”
Someone who ran over poured water on his body, which was then ignited by the flames. As he repeatedly poured cold water on himself, the breath that had been stuck in Damien’s vocal cords finally burst out. The only thing that was not stained on Damien’s face, which was covered in black soot, was his bright blue eyes.
“Oh, my... Oh my god.”
Someone who discovered the figure he was holding covered his mouth with both hands. What the Duke had in his arms was not a human corpse, but rather a charred object. Something particularly shiny fell from the corpse, which was so burnt that not only the clothes, but even the shape of the face was unrecognizable.
“Ma’am... Ugh...”
There was no one who did not know that it was Tisse's jewel. Priscilla, who had fainted and barely regained consciousness, shook her head from side to side in disbelief at the tragedy before her eyes.
“Damien, honey.”
Damien, kneeling before the burnt-down cabin, seemed frozen in place and did not move.
“What are you doing, Chloe...”
Priscilla's eyes froze when she heard a gentle voice coming out of Damien's mouth. He was talking to a charred corpse.
“You should wake up, my love... huh?”
Someone couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into tears. Madness filled Damien's eyes as he looked at the motionless corpse.
“Your husband is here, and you’re not welcoming me with open arms. What are you doing, Chloe!!!”
The Duke's eyes flashed a strange blue. A blue vein bulged out on his neck as he shouted.
“Get up, now!!!”
“Your Excellency, the Duke...”
The night after everything had burned down, snowflakes began to fall quietly, one by one.
“Do you think you can leave me like this? No way!!! You can’t leave me even if you die.”
No one could approach the Duke as he cursed his wife with bloodshot eyes. This was because the magnitude of the emotions he was exuding from his entire body was clearly felt, even though he always maintained a cool demeanor. He looked as if he was suffering, like a beast whose stomach had been ripped open.
“You’ll never see your mother again, because I won’t let you go anywhere. Do you understand?!!”
Snowflakes flew and clung to his entire body. His desperate cries echoed through the cold winter wind. Hot tears fell from Damien’s eyes as he stared at the corpse, melting the ice crystals stuck to his face and running down his chin.
“You can’t escape to hell. You can’t leave me, Chloe!!! You’re my wife for life, and you have to stay by my side forever.”
Everyone watching held their breath at the shocking sight of Damien's hand finally piercing the edge of her chest.
“Your heart is mine. You gave it all to me!!! But where is it...? Where the hell is it!!!”
The servants were frozen in place, unable to move as they watched him dig through the corpse, still full of heat, to find its heart.
“Damien, stop. Stop it.”
Finally, Priscilla approached him and hugged his back. Damien looked at her with unfocused eyes and asked,
“Mother, where is my wife?”
“Damien, please.”
“There’s no way my woman, Tisse’s wife, could die in such a miserable state.”
Priscilla covered her eyes with her hands, unable to bear the sight of her half-mad son. Damien, clutching the remains of his dead wife, broke down and began to tear at the dry grass.
“Ahhh, ahhhhh!!!”
The screaming man's cries echoed through Birch Castle. The snow falling against the dark sky and the dense forest of birch trees that had shed their dark leaves was getting heavier and heavier.
Like one winter dawn, when he was walking side by side with Chloe.
***
The cause was a single candle. The Duchess, who was forbidden to go out of the castle, never complained to her servants. All she wanted was time alone.
An empty cabin among the servants' quarters at the end of the birch grove was her retreat. There, the Duchess spent her time alone as she pleased. She read from her stack of books, wrote letters to her family, and spent hours embroidering.
Even Priscilla, who had gone to the cabin herself to try to persuade the Duchess out of concern for her being alone, could no longer be stubborn when Chloe said that she needed time to say goodbye to a child she had never met.
The servants also understood the Duchess's sense of loss and helplessness.
There was no servant brave enough to openly complain about the cruel treatment of his master, who had given orders that were tantamount to confinement. They only carried the books the Duchess had asked them to from the study to the cabin, prepared plenty of candles so that she would not be in trouble if one ran out during the night, and filled the room with coal and firewood morning and evening.
Little did they know that all of this would become fuel to burn down a parched cabin in the dead of winter.
“A telegram came from Verdier... saying that the Count has collapsed and is in the hospital.”
Priscilla approached Damien, who was sitting blankly staring at the wall in the darkened living room, and spoke quietly.
“So you can’t come to the funeral?”
Priscilla furrowed her brows as Damien lowered his lips without even looking at her.
“Hey, Damien.”
“I will send a telegram.”
Priscilla exhaled heavily as she watched Damien respond dryly. The Duke, who had been spending time alone for several days without eating anything, looked like a ghost with his eyes open. No, he looked like a corpse with his eyes open.
“Wouldn’t burying Chloe in her hometown be the last consideration we can give her?”
“What are you talking about?”
Damien finally turned his head and glanced at Priscilla. She felt her insides burn as she looked at his bloodless, inorganic face.
“She is a true Queen, so she should be buried in the palace, Mother.”
Damien raised his eyebrows as if to say something obvious. If her own son was this creepy, how much more so must the other servants be? It was only natural that the servants could not approach him.
On the night when everything was burning, a corpse that was so black that it was impossible to tell its shape was found in the collapsed hut. The scene of the Duke finding the corpse, which was like a black piece of wood with two eyes gouged out, and screaming like a madman, was still vivid in her mind. That horrifying sight was a shocking scene that would never be forgotten in the memories of her and everyone else there.
The Duke glared at the charred corpse and cursed her, saying that she would never go to Hell and would have to stay by his side forever. The jewel of Tisse, which had fallen from somewhere on the face of the shapeless corpse, sparkled strangely, adding to the grotesqueness.
But no one could deny that the most bizarre scene of all was the Duke, embracing a burnt corpse and pouring out bloody curses. Snowflakes fluttered down his hair as he knelt, covered in soot.
Damien's eyes were bloodshot and red, soaked with snow. Priscilla saw her son screaming in pain for the first time that day. It was a scene she never wanted to witness again.
“Damien.”
Damien continued speaking dryly to her, who was opening her mouth with a complicated mind.
“The Queen’s funeral will be announced two weeks after the coronation. If the coronation and funeral coincide, the people will not know whether to rejoice or mourn.”
“...Son.”
“I should go back to Swanton. Mother can enter the palace after the castle is cleaned up here.”
Damien looked at her.
“Why don’t you go to the countryside and get some rest?”
“Why should I do that?”
Damien asked with a cold expression. Only his sharp eyes showed that he had lost his senses, and his voice was extremely calm.
“I know from experience how heartbreaking it is to lose a loved one. It’s not too late to come back after you’ve grieved enough.”
“I’m fine, Mother.”
He got up from his seat and passed her.
“Because it’s already over.”
The moment she discovered something charred in Damien’s hand, Priscilla felt her hair stand on end and her breath catch in her throat, and she shut her eyes tightly. He was definitely not in his right mind, holding a piece of bone in his hand. Damien left, but Priscilla could not move easily. Priscilla frowned in dizziness, and the servant’s voice was heard in her ear.
"Madam."
“What’s going on?”
“Some of the servants have submitted their resignations and have accepted them. I am reporting to you. Originally, I was planning to inform His Excellency, but....”
“Well done.”
Priscilla nodded to the butler with a tired face. She could guess that many of the servants felt a deep sense of guilt and loss over the Duchess’ death, especially those who were close to Chloe.
“For the time being, it would be best to refrain from saying much in front of the Duke. He is the one who is having the hardest time right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Priscilla turned her gaze to where Damien had been. There was a portrait of Chloe and Damien when they first realized she was pregnant. Chloe was smiling brightly in the picture, one hand on her life-bearing belly and the other holding Damien, who was standing beside her.
Damien was rarely expressionless, but Priscilla felt as if she could now read her son’s mood clearly. The bones of his bare hands, which he had removed his gloves and held Chloe’s, were a clear sign of his possessiveness as he held his woman.
Chloe, honey. Damien was squeezing your hand so hard, and it didn't even hurt you.
Once again, Priscilla's eyes turned red, and she seemed to hear Chloe's voice in her ear.
Yes. That's why I let go of his hand. I'm sorry, Mom.
Priscilla laughed in vain, her eyes filled with tears, as if she really would have said that if she were alive. Priscilla realized too late that she had quite liked Chloe, the suffocating, suffocating child.
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