SBFCV 08

Chapter 8

The surroundings fell silent—quiet like a grave.

It felt as though time had stopped, leaving only the two of them behind.

“Let’s go to hell together.”

A hazy cloud of smoke flickered in her vision, and her gaze tangled with a pair of ash-gray eyes—unfocused, clouded, lifeless.

The grand duke wore a hollow, empty expression and gave a languid smile.

That illusion appeared—then scattered away along with the memory of cigarette smoke.

‘Ah.’

Aria’s lips parted. But only a ragged breath escaped.

‘I almost ruined everything.’

She had nearly spoken.

Sssaaa—

Reality crashed back in belatedly.

And the time she thought had frozen began to flow again.

“You don’t seem to understand the situation, do you?”

Perhaps because Aria reacted without surprise, calm and unbothered, Lloyd’s expression hardened and he pressed the blade even closer.

A thin line of blood trickled from her neck.

Burning pain followed, but Aria made no sound.

She was used to enduring pain and swallowing her groans.

“So it’s true that you can’t speak.”

Was he… testing her?

Aria looked up at him with a tense expression.

If he was suspicious starting from that point, it meant he doubted her very existence.

‘But he’s sharp. Good instincts…?’

Cold sweat mixed with rain slid down her temple and dripped off her chin.

The dress Dana had painstakingly chosen for her was already ruined—soaked with rain and smeared with blood.

‘It hurts…’

Strength slowly left her fingers.

Aria dropped her umbrella.

Thud.

Sssaaa—

With the umbrella no longer shielding her face, Aria’s appearance was revealed.

The boy who had worn only an expressionless, cold face till now briefly looked dumbfounded.

“…Rabbit?”

Because of the suddenly-appearing rabbit mask.

“Rabbit…”

Lloyd muttered again, as if he truly couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Watching Aria trembling helplessly under the pouring rain, his brows scrunched deeper.

“Rabbit.”

“If you want to show your true intentions, say it with your lips. I can read them.”

True intentions? If it was her true intentions…

I flew out of my cage to meet you.

I wanted to become the night that makes you shine.

I’ll gladly become firewood—burn me as much as you like, if it lets you glow brighter.

‘…But I can’t say something like that.’

Aria recalled the honest feelings she had secretly harbored before meeting him.

And unknowingly, her lips moved.

— I actually liked it when you patted my head.

Lloyd looked at her like she was insane.

“You’ve never handled a weapon, it seems.”

Lloyd touched her hand while speaking.

He examined it as if observing a specimen.

No matter how he looked at it, it was the soft hand of a child—without even a hint of calluses.

“At your age, you should know how to use at least one weapon.”

At ten years old?

Aria was bewildered.

“No muscles—just bones.”

Isn’t it more impressive if a ten-year-old actually has muscles?

Aria tilted her head.

Lloyd grabbed her wrist and lifted it upward. Her arm was pulled up helplessly with it.

He released her and stared at his own hand, frowning before looking up again.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive. You’re weak, your pulse is faint. Even your bones—if I squeezed a little harder, they might shatter.”

“Are all humans from outside the border this fragile?”

Lloyd muttered, “Even Mother wasn’t this frail…”

His gaze on her was like he was examining a rare creature he’d never seen before.

‘I’ve always been weak… and I got even weaker because of the abuse.’

Aria thought to herself and subconsciously touched her neck—only to flinch as if burned.

It stung, and her eyes watered.

Lloyd rummaged through his clothes, then tossed a neatly folded handkerchief at her.

Aria barely caught it and looked startled.

“Use it and throw it away.”

It was a plain white handkerchief, not even embroidered.

Aria looked between the handkerchief and Lloyd, then awkwardly wiped her neck.

Lloyd watched her with displeasure, then strode over and snatched the handkerchief back.

“Give it here.”

Skillfully, he stopped the bleeding.

It had been a shallow cut from the start—only rain mixed with blood made it look worse.

He finished the job quickly and wrapped the handkerchief around her neck, tying a knot.

“Why are you wearing a mask?”

He tapped the mask lightly with his finger. Startled, Aria jerked back as if he meant to remove it.

His brows twitched upward in irritation before settling back down.

“You. Rabbit.”

The soaked rabbit mask gurgled out water.

‘Dana made it soft and fluffy… she couldn’t have known it would do this in the rain.’

Aria spaced out at the ridiculous scene.

Anyone else might have laughed, but Lloyd, without a trace of amusement, said seriously:

“Are you food for the sewer rats?”

Aria froze. She hadn’t expected him to suspect that far.

Sewer rats—the “owners” of the underworld.

The “sewers” referred to the criminal underworld.

“Their bred food either cannot speak from birth or has its tongue cut out.”

Food existed only to serve their master—mindless tools who obeyed every command and even sacrificed their lives.

“They enter under noble identities sometimes—but your name isn’t on the Cortez list. So how do you prove you’re not from the sewers?”

Lloyd wasn’t wrong—she had no way to prove it right now.

Aria remembered belatedly: Valentine had cut ties with the sewers as well.

Valentine had many enemies because of his infamous reputation.

So it wasn’t strange that Lloyd was wary of someone like her suddenly appearing.

“There’s only one way to distinguish whether you’re ‘food’ or not.”

There’s a way?

Even the Emperor struggled with sewer-bred infiltrators spread across the empire.

“Say: ‘I’ll kill those sewer-rat bastards.’”

“You won’t?”

Aria couldn’t understand how he’d come to such a conclusion.

“So you really are food.”

A killing intent sharp enough to sting the skin emanated from him as he reached for his sword again.

Aria quickly placed her hand over his.

He seemed unprepared—his fingertips trembled faintly where they met.

— It’s my first time cursing.

After some hesitation, Aria squeezed her eyes shut and moved her lips.

— Kill those sewer-rat bastards.

Her first curse.

Even though she hadn’t spoken aloud, Aria felt surprisingly refreshed.

“…Say the subject properly.”

— Kill those sewer-rat bastards.

“Hm…”

Did she pass?

Though Lloyd didn’t look pleased, the tension in his grip on the sword eased.

“If you’re not food, then get out.”

“Walking out on your own two feet is the only way you survive. There’s no place for someone as weak as you in Valentine.”

With that, he shook her hand off and left.

Aria remained standing alone in the corridor.

Only after he fully disappeared did she start moving again.

“The young lord has vanished?”

Just before she turned the corner toward her room, she heard the maids whispering.

A secret conversation, murmured quietly.

But Aria heard it clearly.

Sirens had weak bodies—but every other sense was exceptionally sharp.

Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch—everything.

Just as they were said to be born for art, their bodies seemed developed only for that.

‘Good thing Lloyd didn’t notice.’

He almost had. Aria had instinctively turned at the sound of his footsteps earlier.

Thankfully, he had been too focused on questioning her to realize it.

‘A weak, helpless child…’

She hoped he would continue to believe that.

“Again?”

“Yes. Whenever Madam’s condition worsens, she sends everyone away. Not even His Grace or the young lord are exceptions.”

“People will die again tonight, I suppose.”

A maid sighed.

“Exactly. His Grace took the knights to hunt the bandits himself, and no one knows where the young lord went.”

“The young lord caught all the spies who infiltrated the manor last time. Then he threw them into the jaguar pit as a warning…”

The maid shuddered mid-sentence.

Aria thought to herself:

‘So the father and son, unable to stay by her side after being chased out, vent their frustration violently…’

She understood.

If your wife or mother was on the brink of death—maybe for the last time—and you couldn’t be by her bedside… anyone would go mad.

But killing people out of anger—that was why they were called the demon duke and his demon seed.

‘I survived… because I looked weak.’

She’d been lucky.

Aria felt her neck throb under the tied handkerchief.

“It’s not the first time Madam has collapsed. She’s survived countless crises, but this time… really…”

“Watch your words.”

“But you know. It’s the first time she’s spoken like it was her last wish.”

The two maids fell silent, sniffing. After a long moment, one murmured through a stifled sob:

“…Yes. She said she wanted to be buried under the cherry tree. She’d waited for spring, but the rain kept falling, and she was disappointed.”

“She always waited for the cherry blossoms every spring.”

“Damn monsoon. Why in spring of all times?”

“Damn gods. Damn world. Let it all perish.”

As expected of people living in the demon’s castle—they cursed the gods and wished for the world’s end with ease as they walked away.

‘Cherry blossoms.’

As soon as she heard it, Aria recalled the cherry trees she’d seen during her walk in the garden.

She immediately ran there.

Fortunately, she had not yet been assigned a guard.

Besides, with the duchess facing life and death, no one cared what Aria was doing or where she wandered.

‘And Dana said it was fine to admire the garden flowers.’

She had only stayed out until late at night.

It was dawn.

Aria tilted her head back, looking up at the sky, then slowly rose from where she’d been leaning against a cherry tree.

She placed her hand on its trunk.

Its petals had all been blown away by the rain, but it was a massive tree—even visible from the duchess’s bedroom in the main building.

‘Song of Life.’

It had been a very long time since she’d sung it.

Aria closed her eyes.

And began to sing softly.