Wider meant easier to fall. But this vent should lead to the room where the Northern Duke is staying.
I stretched my arm to grab the slippery handhold high in the vent.
'Please be there, Duke.'
I cautiously pressed my ear against the vent wall, hoping to hear his voice.
The deep, resonant voice of Zion Bellfast, the Northern Duke.
Recalling his voice brought back our last conversation in my previous life.
His chained figure, the wet cotton I handed him, his question about my name, and his response to my inquiry about compassion.
Distractions crept in.
I instinctively tightened my grip on the handhold. Now, hanging only by my arms and core strength without any foothold, distractions were dangerous.
While hanging with one arm, I removed a note from my mouth with the other. Luckily, my abilities as a Sword Master from my previous life hadn't vanished.
Thanks to that, I could support my weight with my dry arms.
With the note-holding hand, I gently pushed the side of the stovepipe. A little air from inside the room became perceptible.
But no voices were heard.
Was it empty?
Only the flow of quiet air from inside the closed room reached me.
It might be an empty room.
But I couldn't give up hastily. This note, warning of the poisoning risk, must reach the Duke himself.
Gathering courage, I pushed the side of the stovepipe slightly more. The room's white ceiling became visible through the open slit. The setting sun cast long golden rays across it.
Then, something blocked the sunlight and looked at me. I was startled breathless.
"Uh, uh."
I retracted my head into the vent like a turtle and clung to the handhold for dear life.
In doing so, I dropped the note I was holding.
My heart raced wildly.
Madness. Complete madness.
If my memory serves me right, the one who locked eyes with me was…
"Who's there?"
A low, calm voice filled the stovepipe.
Zion Bellfast, the Northern Duke.
Could I answer who I am in such a situation?
I clung to the handhold tighter, crying inwardly like a cicada.
What should I do, what should I do?
It was an unforeseen situation.
Then, his voice came again.
"I asked who you are."
His voice was excessively calm, making my intense nervousness seem almost ridiculous.
What should I answer? What should I say about who I am?
A dog of the Southern Duke, but no longer wanting to be one? Just a nameless wanderer? I can't say I'm the White Butterfly yet, as I haven't become one. Then what…
Bella?
I swallowed the name that rose to my throat.
No. It's a fake name given by Medea.
My real name is…
Esdel.
Remembering this name caused a heart-wrenching pain. A name that seemed forbidden to utter.
I can't say it. I'm not yet worthy of this name.
"I'm called the Bug. I have no name."
I barely managed to utter these words but immediately regretted them. The Duke wasn't curious about my name, but about what I was doing.
As expected, his tone quickened slightly.
"What are you doing here?"
Almost immediately, a whooshing sound followed. The sound of a sword being drawn.
But I couldn't back down.
He spoke.
"Show yourself."
I gathered my courage and spoke.
"There's something you must know, risking danger to come here. Please, sheathe your sword."
I enunciated clearly, hoping my voice would reach him.
But there was no response.
What's going on? He couldn't have failed to hear me.
An unbearably long silence followed. I couldn't stand it anymore.
"The Southern Duke Lahert is plotting something, Your Highness. Medea,"
That's when the door to the room opened.
"Your Highness, it's Arcadia."
Simultaneously, the slightly opened stovepipe door slammed shut. The Northern Duke had closed it.
Soon after, a pungent smoke began to fill the vent, followed by increasing heat.
'He lit a fire?'
Why?
He didn't recognize me. He's trying to get rid of me.
It was only a brief encounter five years ago. It's natural not to remember.
But how could he start a fire so quickly?
Suddenly, I realized the circumstances of my encounter with the Duke. Just as he was about to light the fireplace, I opened the side of the stovepipe.
Did he hear me climbing up? Did he think I was an assassin?
Strength began to leave me. The thickening smoke made it impossible to keep my eyes open. Breathing became difficult. My lungs felt like they were tearing apart.
How much time had passed?
As my consciousness started to blur, the heat seemed to lessen, then there was a loud clang of something being forcefully opened.
At that moment, one of my hands slipped, and I fell downwards. Simultaneously, something caught my hand.
A long, firm, and large hand.
Looking up, the Northern Duke was there. His blue eyes gazed at me.
"Hold on tight, don't fall."
Search "in this life" at "redcatty . com" to read ahead chapters.