Duke Berta broke into a cold sweat and looked behind him with eager eyes, but there was only one entrance, the door through which Diego had entered. Diego sat down on his knees in front of the Duke of Berta. His posture was that of a child. Diego spoke in a whisper.

“Father, why would you place someone in a clearly dangerous situation where screams are sure to erupt?”

Those words stirred a sense of guilt within Duke Berta. In the past, when Diego was young, Duke Berta would often physically punish the servants who bothered him. It seemed to have started because he couldn’t stand the sight of a crying child pleading him not to harm his mother.

After Dolores’ death, his hostility towards his son intensified. The Duke of Berta felt a kind of horror at the sight of his son, who bore no resemblance to her, but who sometimes behaved like her. The proof that she was alive and well was before his eyes. He had already grown up and looked at his new wife with disapproval.

Taking out his anger on the child was easy, even boring. Violence was already a habit for him. Diego was still young and helpless, and his only family was the one who abused him. There were days when he begged for help, screamed for help, but no help came. No one would take him out of that hell. Until years later, when he grew up and took the Duke of Berta’s wielding hand in his own and restrained it.

The Duke of Berta should have killed me then, Diego thought, and then he asked himself: He had done everything but stab me with his own sword, and I was supposed to respect him simply because he was my father?

“How dare my son brandish a sword against his own father!”

Duke Berta shouted venomously. Diego had a sneaking suspicion that the Duke of Berta was thinking the same thing he was now. He should have killed him while he was still young and powerless. No matter how many times he kills the young body in his imagination, it would be him who would die.

Duke Berta flailed his arms about in terror. It was not easy to be hit by a blind fist that didn’t know where it was going. Moreover, Duke Berta was an ordinary middle-aged man, and Diego was an extraordinary swordsman. Diego lightly subdued the Duke of Berta. Then he leapt on top of the disorientated Duke. Berta struggled and fought back, but he was no match for the much younger Diego.

Diego placed his knee on the Duke’s right chest to keep him from getting up, then aimed his dagger at his heart. Now all he had to do was stick it in.

Duke Berta, delirious with fear, had his last words.

“I knew you were going to be a source of trouble from the time you were a child. I knew you would grow up to be this way. I tried to suppress the demons within you!”

He shouted, blood welling in his eyes. Diego asked calmly.

“Is that your final words?”

“Do you think you can live well after committing such acts? Your wickedness will eventually devour your entire life. Co-ugh, cou…”

Duke Berta could not finish his sentence. The dagger in Diego’s hand had pushed beneath his skin. Blood gushed from the opening. Duke Berta grasped the handle and tried to push it away, but his son’s strength was too much for him. The Duke’s eyelids fluttered open. He gasped for breath and whispered one last time.

“You, you…… cursed being…….”

His trembling legs calmed down. For a moment, his greedy face seemed calm, if only for the moment he closed his eyes.

Diego slowly rose to his feet. His muscles tensed as he gripped the handle and pulled the blade out. Diego silently wiped the blood from his chin. He looked down at his father’s body with an impassive expression.

“In case you didn’t know, father, being born from the likes of you is already a curse upon me.”

* * *

An untimely death doesn’t have to mean a boring death.

The news of Duke Berta’s sudden death shook the household to its core. Upon hearing the news of her husband’s death in the great hall, the Duchess fainted on the spot. She was carried back to the mansion in a carriage and did not awaken until the funeral preparations were nearly complete the next day. It was as if she was in denial, drifting off into a dream.

Despite the complexity of the situation, catching the killer was relatively straightforward. Covered in blood, he was caught by the guards before he could even get over the wall. The man was a temple worker and was completely drunk when he was caught.

After interrogation, the story goes like this. A man who had always despaired of his situation took advantage of a lapse in security to murder Duke Berta, who was alone, and escaped. Once they knew who did it and his background, the motive was easy to guess. In the end, the murder of the Duke of Berta was concluded to be a crime committed by a commoner who resented an event reserved for the well-fed aristocracy.

With the situation understood, Diego immediately took charge of the mess. He carried the fainting duchess to the mansion, hunted down the culprits, and bought his father’s remains in the temple. As a matter of course, the funeral would be organised at the temple.

Diego remained calm and collected in the midst of all this. The young successor’s performance was dazzling and seemed to indicate the capabilities of the new patriarch.

Upon his untimely death, all the remaining occupants of the mansion were mobilised to prepare for his funeral. This left Estella in charge of dressing the children in their mourning clothes. Even if the Duchess had been in her right mind, she would not have thrown Estella out immediately. She was short-handed.

Estella unbuttoned Cedric’s top and handed it to him.

“Young master, are you all right?”

“No.”

Cedric replied in a small voice. Estella glanced up and looked at him. Cedric had been told of Duke Berta’s death, and his expression was unreadable.

“Are you sad, then?”

“Not really.”

Funnily enough, Estella was relieved by the answer. She was the one who had not prevented the Duke of Berta’s death. If Cedric was shocked by his death, she was at least partly to blame.

“It’s just like when a stranger dies.”

It was hard to fully grasp the reality. Indeed, so much had happened today. When news of Duke Berta’s death became known, Estella’s heart had inexplicably trembled. If it surprised Cedric, his own flesh and blood, it would have been no less of a shock.

“Do you think I’ll be sad after a few nights?”

“I’m sure you’ll miss him, but even people who have nothing but bad memories can be glorified after a long absence.”

With that, Estella fell silent. If ever there was a time to be silent, this was it. Estella raised her bent knees and walked over to Cecilia. Cecilia, despite Estella’s attempts to console her, remained lying face down on the sofa without getting up since earlier.

“Miss, you need to get dressed, get up.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Miss, Duke Berta is now…….”

“I’m not going!”

With that, Cecilia pushed Estella’s hand away. She didn’t know if she understood that Duke Berta was dead, or if she wanted to pretend she didn’t. When Estella hesitated, Cedric spoke up.

“We should go alone. Cecilia is too young.”

It was true. If Cedric weren’t just an eight-year-old child, Estella would have felt a deeper resonance with those words. Even she, at a much younger age, find it surprising to hear such words. Estella let out a long sigh.

“I sometimes feel sad that you grew up too soon.”

Cedric’s ears reddened, and he kicked the door open unnecessarily. Estella stroked the top of Cecilia’s head idly. Her eyes held complexity.

A bitter laugh escaped her as she realised that the Duchess would have welcomed Cecilia’s absence, not begrudged it. Perhaps it was better for Cecilia to remain at the manor. If Cecilia made a mistake in front of others, there would surely be repercussions. It was never too late to say goodbye to your father when no one was watching.

With that thought in mind, Estella left Cecilia to say goodbye and headed out the door. Cedric, who had gone first, was already ahead of her. Estella hurriedly followed behind him. They had to get to the carriage that was waiting outside to take them to the temple where the funeral would take place.

‘Then I can meet Diego.’

The first order of business was to reveal to him that the mention of the black bowtie was no coincidence, so she could demand…….

Estella’s steps skidded to a halt. Her opponent froze in place as well. For a moment, the duchess’s face was completely blank. It was as if she had fallen into a trance. The Duchess, with a haughty expression, stared at Estella for a moment. In a strained voice, she spoke.

“……I told you clearly to leave the mansion.”

Estella bowed her head immediately.

“I thought it only right to protect His Grace on his final journey.”

The Duchess frowned, but she didn’t threaten her to leave. She climbed into the carriage with a stiff step. She hadn’t even acknowledged Cedric.

Estella breathed a sigh of relief and climbed into another carriage with Cedric. The short ride to the temple was unusually long.

* * *

As the head of the prominent noble family, Duke Berta had a significant number of mourners paying their respects. The visitors were mostly individuals who had a professional relationship with Duke Berta, so the sound of weeping was not particularly loud. The only one intermittently sobbing was the newly widowed Duchess. She had a completely desolate expression, as if all her future plans had been shattered. It was not a situation that deviated greatly from her usual demeanor. Estella stood silently behind Cedric, keeping her place. Fortunately, Cedric appeared more composed than expected.

It was at the memorial service that the commotion began. No one had prepared a eulogy, so once again, Diego stepped forward. The Duchess looked quite shocked that it was Diego, and not her or Cedric, who would deliver the final words. She twisted her handkerchief to wipe away her tears and stared blankly at the headstone, which bore the name of Duke Berta and a single line of text.

?In memory of our faithful father, whom we shall never see again.?

It was a fitting sentence for the patriarch of a family to receive in eternity. Although it was somewhat distant from the description of the person’s life as ‘faithful,’ after many years, those who would be concerned about such trivial matters would no longer remain. Instead, it seemed that Diego had skillfully chosen that superficial sentence. The Duchess, who had been chuckling sarcastically, pursed her lips. She suddenly had a question in her mind.

Was that something that could come out immediately on the day after a person’s death?

It wasn’t impossible, but it was certainly faster than that.