Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Argos's Hundred Eyes
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“Argos's Hundred Eyes. Hand it over.”
The High Priest had steeled himself to some extent, but even so, he gaped.
Argos's Hundred Eyes.
It was the most exalted sacred relic currently owned by the capital’s grand temple.
True to its name, this powerful holy relic could instantly locate anything desired within thousands of kilometers—a divine power rivaling that of a High Priest.
“Th-that’s something I could never hand over, not even if my head rolled! No matter that you’re the Duke of the North, seizing a sacred relic is….”
“I said I’d borrow it for a moment. I never said I’d steal it.”
Had he?
The High Priest belatedly reviewed his memory and realized he’d conceded his neck too hastily. He looked abashed.
But the Duke of Carlisle’s words continued so calmly that the High Priest’s face drained of color once more.
“Though killing you and taking it doesn’t sound bad either. I don’t have much patience, you see.”
Eek.
The young acolyte standing beside the priest, holding a lantern, gasped in silence.
“What are you going to do?”
“No, even so, we can’t just lend out the temple’s treasure recklessly….”
“Hand it over, and in exchange, I’ll return the northern temples.”
…Lend him Argos’s Eye, and he’d return the northern temples?
It was a truly unprecedented offer.
The High Priest rapidly calculated in his mind.
This might just be an opportunity.
The Duke of Carlisle wanting Argos’s Eye meant he was searching for something right now. Whether a person or an object, he didn’t know.
The High Priest grew curious about who—or what—the duke needed so desperately that he’d even return the temples.
In any case, the duke was the one in a hurry, so there was room to raise the stakes.
If he played it right, he might even squeeze some cash out of the duke. Perhaps even earn a promotion to a higher diocese.
Having finished his mental accounting, the High Priest composed a solemn expression.
“But Duke, we cannot allow the private use of a sacred holy relic….”
“You’re laboring under a grand delusion, High Priest.”
The Duke of Carlisle shattered the High Priest’s ambitious scheme with a single sentence.
The man, who had been tilting his head slightly, slowly swept back his hair with a bored motion.
“When did I ever say I wanted to negotiate?”
In the darkness, arrogant red eyes gleamed with irreverence.
***
The station on the capital’s outskirts lay silent and deserted.
It was hardly surprising. It was well past midnight by now. Revelers caught up in the festival fervor were too busy eating, drinking, and celebrating the new year through the night.
Juliet had just watched fireworks rise into the sky from the direction of the imperial palace.
“Yes. I see.”
The monster in the shape of a butterfly whined to her in vibrations only she could hear, sulking like a petulant child.
She’d thought they’d complain about being pushed too hard, but that wasn’t their grievance.
They told their contractor just how ruthless the man had been—the one who’d annihilated part of them.
The moment its wings were pierced by the dagger (That. Man. Human. Hate.)
Yet Juliet listened quietly, well aware it was all exaggeration.
Appeased by that, the wicked, childish creature fussed in clumsy human speech for a while before departing.
Juliet was alone once more.
She wasn’t particularly worried about the pursuer the butterflies had warned her of.
In just a little while, she’d be leaving the capital far behind. No matter how capable his men were, tracking her down in this short time was impossible.
Juliet sat alone on the quiet platform, wondering when the train might arrive.
There were benches inside the station building, but she’d deliberately chosen to wait out on the open platform.
Juliet tapped her toe.
No one would guess that just hours ago, she’d attended the imperial palace’s New Year’s banquet. Her outfit was utterly plain and unremarkable.
A dark blazer and white blouse, a long skirt reaching her ankles. She’d pinned her hair back neatly in a single style and hadn’t forgotten the black veil to obscure her face.
Juliet gauged how much time remained until the train’s arrival, then glanced down at her feet.
Gone were the high-heeled, elegant shoes that had glided through the banquet hall. In their place, plain leather boots.
To think the thing she’d left behind at the mansion wasn’t a heartless lover or fond memories, but beautiful shoes.
Lennox Carlisle had been a generous lover. He showered her with lavish gifts without her even needing to ask. Gorgeous dresses, jeweled tiaras like crowns. Anything she so much as mentioned became hers.
‘Even though he doesn’t care a whit about any of it.’
Anyone accustomed to that life would inevitably delude themselves into believing they’d captured his heart.
But Juliet had never fallen for the illusion. She’d known from the start that she’d be discarded someday.
Those extravagant gifts had nothing whatsoever to do with affection.
Affection? Lennox Carlisle was far removed from such soft sentiments.
“I won’t bother Your Highness.”
Pointed advice,
“The Duke tires of things so very easily.”
If the tone had been outright hostile, she might have brushed it off as jealousy. But Juliet didn’t.
Before Juliet could even reply,
“It’s such a waste of the House of Count Monad’s good name.”
People had gossiped and sneered at her, wondering how a noble lady—not some lowborn woman—could stoop so low.
They were mere acquaintances at best, yet after she became his lover, that unreasoning enmity had become all too familiar.
Juliet smiled faintly.
They’d probably hoped she’d pretend not to hear or break into sniffles.
“Kyaa!”
But Juliet wasn’t quite that gentle. Rather than dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief while seated, she always opted to upend the teacup instead.
Thanks to that, Duke Carlisle’s ill repute had only grown. But what of it?
Contrary to the gossips’ sneers, enduring at his side had been no great hardship for Juliet. She’d expected nothing from the beginning, after all.
Becoming Lennox Carlisle’s lover had been that simple.
Keeping her heart intact, however, had not.
For Duke Carlisle, she hadn’t been essential. Anyone would have sufficed. So long as they could warm his bed.
Plop. Juliet tried her best to ignore the single tear that fell onto the back of her hand.