"I do follow the rules. But sometimes, reality makes it seem difficult for those who abide by them." – Casper O-Heams, Journey in Gray City
The young guest sat in the office, waiting for Lord Arlecia's arrival. The butler had assured her that the lord would arrive shortly, but nearly two hours had passed. In that time, she had finished reading a book from the side table—Journey in Gray City by an unknown author, Casper O-Heams. The book had intrigued her far more than she expected.
"What happened to Gray City? Why did the journey end halfway?" she mused, fingers absentmindedly tracing the book's spine. It felt incomplete, like chapters were missing—an odd sense of dissatisfaction gnawed at her.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the door creaked open. Royfield, the immaculate butler, stepped in first, followed by the man she had been waiting for—Lord Seth Arlecia.
Her breath caught.
The rumors painted Seth as a tyrant, yet the figure before her was almost ethereal. He wore an outfit that boldly exposed his chest, revealing skin as pale and smooth as untouched snow, juxtaposed against form-fitting, tailored trousers. Pinned to his chest was a large blue jewel, glistening in the soft light. His radiant white hair flowed down, almost glowing, but what struck her most was the blindfold—obscuring his eyes, giving him an otherworldly, unreadable aura.
"Who… is this man?" Claire muttered under her breath, her mind racing to reconcile the image before her with the infamous lord she'd heard so much about.
Despite the blindfold, Seth turned directly toward her, as though he could sense her gaze. His smile was warm but casual, as if he'd known her for years. "Did I keep you waiting too long?" he teased lightly, his voice smooth and inviting. "I thought you might need some time to rest after such a long journey from the capital."
Claire blinked, taken aback by his tone. The tyrant she had researched was supposed to be harsh, cruel, and unforgiving—yet this man seemed almost... kind? She quickly gathered herself, trying to hide her confusion.
"It's an honor, my lord," she said, her voice steady despite the dissonance she felt.
Before she could formally introduce herself, Seth waved it off with a light chuckle. "No need for formalities. Let's sit. We can discuss the contract over a warm snack." He gestured toward the small table.
Claire hesitated but followed his lead, feeling a growing sense of unease. As they sat, Royfield entered with a tray of delicacies. The scent of rosemary wafted through the air, calming, yet something about the atmosphere kept her on edge.
On the table were warm, flaky croissants, lightly glazed with honey and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Small pots of clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam accompanied a plate of golden scones, alongside lemon tartlets topped with fresh berries. The spread was refined, fit for a noble's table.
Seth inhaled deeply, clearly enjoying the familiar aroma of the rosemary tea before taking a sip. Claire, however, remained tense, her gaze flicking between the elegant tea set and Seth, her fingers nervously fidgeting in her lap. She was prepared to gather information about the Black Death treatment, but nothing about this encounter was going as expected.
"My lord," she began, trying to focus. She pulled out the newspaper ad from The Daily Shines. "I came here because of this ad. I'm interested in working with you."
Seth leaned back slightly, still smiling, though the expression seemed to carry hidden layers. He didn't respond immediately, sipping his tea as if savoring the moment.
Her heart raced, and she shifted in her seat. There was something unnerving about his silence, about the way he seemed to be watching her even behind the blindfold. Unable to bear the tension, she continued, "It was mentioned that there's information on the Black Death treatment as part of the reward. Is that true?"
A flicker of amusement passed over Seth's face as he set down his cup. "Ah, the Black Death," he said softly, his voice calm, almost playful. "Yes, you've come to the right place. But before we discuss that, tell me—what do you offer in return?"
Claire blinked, thrown off balance by his question. She hesitated but quickly regained her composure, standing up straighter. "My name is Clark," she said, introducing her male alias with a practiced confidence. "I'm a student at the Royal Bern Academy." She handed over her resume, showcasing her credentials, hoping to shift the power balance back in her favor.
Seth barely glanced at the papers. "Not bad," he commented idly, though his disinterest felt like a slap to her pride.
Feeling slighted, Claire leaned forward, her tone sharpening. "You won't find someone like me easily. I rank just below the kingdom's crown prince."
To her shock, Seth laughed.
The sound echoed in the quiet room, casual and unrefined, completely out of place for a noble. Claire's cheeks flushed in frustration—was he mocking her? She was from a noble lineage, superior to a mere baron. The arrogance of this man!
"My lord…" she began, trying to keep her temper in check, but once again, Seth cut her off.
"Stop it," he said, his voice suddenly laced with amusement. "You're exactly like I imagined. It's almost uncanny."
Her frustration gave way to confusion. What did he mean by that? Before she could respond, Seth's demeanor shifted—his smile faded, and his tone grew serious. "Enough with the charade."
Her heart skipped a beat as his words cut through her. There was a sudden, chilling shift in the atmosphere. Seth leaned forward, his blindfold hiding his eyes but the smirk on his lips making her feel vulnerable, exposed.
"Or should I say… Claire?"
Her blood turned cold. She tried to mask the panic rising in her chest, but she could feel her control slipping. "You… how did you know?"
The smirk never left Seth's face. "How could I not? There are only a few people in this kingdom born with pink hair."
Claire's throat tightened as Seth leaned back casually, delivering the final blow. "The Roberts family… there aren't many of you left, are there?"
Her pulse quickened. She felt trapped, like a mouse caught in a cat's claws. Her disguise—her carefully planned strategy—had crumbled so easily. How did he know so much?
Seth gestured to Royfield, who moved swiftly to a bookshelf, pulling down a volume with practiced ease. He placed it on the table before Claire with a quiet thud.
Seth's voice was casual, but his words were razor-sharp. "Here. The history of noble families in the kingdom is well documented. The Roberts family—tigers of the east, saviors of the frontlines. But… your family's time is running out, isn't it?"
Claire's fists clenched, her pride stinging at his condescending tone. "That's not for you to say," she snapped. "I will restore my family's honor. I'll prove it."
"You can't," Seth replied, his tone flat and unyielding.
It was the final straw. Claire stood, her emotions boiling over. She was ready to leave, to get as far from this place as possible, but just as she turned, Seth's voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Robert Clark," Seth said, his voice like silk, "you've enjoyed pretending to be him, haven't you?"
Her stomach dropped as Seth chuckled darkly. "How does it feel to live as someone you're not?"
Her face flushed with a mix of rage and humiliation. She wanted to throw the teacup at his infuriatingly calm face, but before she could act, Royfield's firm hand gently but firmly clasped her wrist. His eyes met hers, a silent warning not to proceed.
Seth stood and approached, his presence overwhelming. He stopped inches from her, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned close to her ear.
"Robert Claire," he murmured, "set aside your pride for a moment. Remember why you came here."
Her breath caught. She was about to snap back when Seth's next words sent her reeling.
"I can cure your brother's illness."
Her eyes widened, her anger dissolving into shock. "You… you can?"
Seth's voice was low, soothing. "Yes. You must feel relieved, don't you? That weight you've carried all this time… it can be lifted."
Claire's heart raced. Her brother, Clark, had been suffering for so long, his body rotting away, and no doctor could help. Could Seth really have the answer?
Seth straightened, looking down at her with a calculated smile. "You're the piece I've been waiting for."
Her hands trembled slightly as the full weight of his words sank in. He knew everything. And despite her instincts screaming at her to run, she couldn't deny the glimmer of hope he had just offered.
"I'll give you time to think," Seth said smoothly, stepping back. "Once you've made your decision, we'll discuss the contract."
With a nod from Seth, Royfield released her wrist. Claire stumbled back, her mind spinning. As Seth turned to leave, his parting words echoed in her mind.
"Take care of my guest," Seth instructed Royfield. "Give her a room in the west wing. We'll meet again tomorrow."
And with that, Seth walked out, leaving Claire standing alone, her heart pounding in her chest.
Alone in the room, Claire clutched the ring on her necklace, a matching one she shared with her twin brother. Her mind swirled with uncertainty, but one thought remained clear—if Seth could save Clark, she had no choice but to consider his offer.
"I have to save Clark… I will save him," she whispered, kissing the ring. "Hold on, Clark. I'll bring you back."