The Cage

The child, startled not only by the unexpected pain but also by the fierce gaze of Clayton looking down at her, burst into tears.

"Waaaah!"

"Rea!"

Realizing what had happened, Damon rushed forward and scooped up his daughter.

Without even trying to calm the child, he turned to Clayton with an apologetic expression.

"My deepest apologies, Your Grace. She's still very young…"

Worried that Clayton might find fault with the child, Damon anxiously shielded her in his arms, repeatedly apologizing.

But even in her father's embrace, the child's wails showed no sign of subsiding.

"The child?"

"Yes?"

"Is she hurt?"

"Ah."

Finally realizing that his daughter had bumped into Clayton's knee, Damon inspected her forehead.

Fortunately, it was only slightly red with no serious injury.

"It's okay, Rea. You're not hurt anywhere."

Damon's voice was gentle as he comforted his daughter, a stark contrast to how he spoke with Clayton earlier.

Perhaps finding the difference curious, Clayton silently observed the father and daughter.

"What's going on?!"

Hearing the commotion upstairs, Gretel rushed in, her face pale with worry.

She had clearly been alarmed by the child's piercing cries, echoing throughout the castle.

The moment she spotted her mother, the child's cries grew even louder, splitting the air.

To an outsider, it might seem as though she'd suffered a serious injury. Her theatrics were both exasperating and absurd.

Damon, still watching Clayton nervously, briefly explained what had happened to his wife. Shocked, Gretel bowed her head in apology to Clayton.

"Our deepest apologies, Your Grace. We should have disciplined her better… She's still young, so we ask for your understanding."

Clayton didn't quite understand why such an incident warranted this level of apology, but he decided that a simple nod would suffice and said nothing more.

When Clayton gave a slight nod indicating he was fine, Gretel's expression relaxed as she lifted her crying daughter into her arms.

At that moment, Dalia entered the room, following the viscountess.

"Is something wrong?"

Surveying the room cautiously, Dalia noticed Rea sniffling in Gretel's arms.

"Oh my, why is Rea crying?"

"She just got startled, that's all. She'll be fine now, right, Rea?"

Despite Gretel's comforting words, Rea showed no sign of calming down and continued to cry.

It was clear that holding a three-year-old child while heavily pregnant was quite difficult for her.

It wasn't just Dalia who noticed; Damon tried several times to take the child from Gretel, but each time, Rea shrieked and clung desperately to her mother's dress.

Watching the child cry as though she might pass out, Dalia cautiously asked Gretel.

"May I hold her?"

"You, Duchess?"

Gretel, who was struggling more and more to calm her daughter, secretly welcomed Dalia's offer.

"Yes. It must be hard to carry her in your condition. Let me try to soothe her."

Though she doubted her daughter, who had refused even her father, would calm down for Dalia, she handed Rea over as a last resort.

But then.

"Oh my."

The child, who had been bewildered for a moment, stopped crying the instant she was in Dalia's arms.

Then, with her light brown eyes, so much like Gretel's, sparkling, she gazed intently at Dalia's face.

Just moments ago, she had been shy around strangers, so her sudden change in demeanor was nothing short of surprising.

"Rea must really like the Duchess. She's not usually like this… Could it be because of the Duchess's eye color…?"

"Eye color?"

"Yes, Rea absolutely loves the color purple."

Come to think of it, the child's clothes and accessories were all purple.

And as it turned out, the guess wasn't wrong—after staying silent, the child finally spoke.

"Pretty!"

Not only had she stopped crying, but she now began laughing gleefully, fascinated by Dalia's silver hair, which shimmered over her shoulder as she grabbed a handful of it.

"Rea! You mustn't pull the Duchess's hair like that!"

"Pretty!"

Whoever she took after, her stubbornness was evident. She refused to let go of the hair despite everyone's protests.

Seeing the viscount couple grow pale with worry, Dalia reassured them with a calm gesture.

"It's fine. She's just holding onto it. But look at Rea's little fists—aren't they adorable?"

Dalia's eyes sparkled as she gazed lovingly at the child.

"Duchess…"

Though grateful to Dalia, Gretel trailed off, clearly embarrassed by her daughter's behavior.

Meanwhile, Clayton, standing a step back and observing the entire scene, had his gaze fixed solely on Dalia.

"Women change when they have children."

Damon's words from earlier suddenly came to mind.

"They change when they have a child."

Clayton couldn't quite understand why those words had been nagging at him since he heard them.

Perhaps it was because he had seen how fondly Dalia looked at the child.

Then, a sudden question arose in his mind.

"If that's true, would Dalia change if she had a child?"

Someone once said that a child is a woman's anchor.

That no matter how unhappy a marriage is, eight out of ten women endure it for their children.

He had often heard despicable men claim that the best way to keep a wife tied to their side, despite their own misdeeds, was to give her a child.

At the time, he had found their reasoning both pathetic and contemptible. But now…

"If Dalia and I were to have a child…"

If Dalia bore his child, would she stay by his side as long as the child lived…? The thought crossed his mind.

"My wife always says that her life is divided into before and after Rea was born. I feel the same. It wasn't until Rea's birth that we truly felt like a family."

A real family.

Yes, perhaps having a child with Dalia was the safest and most ideal way forward.

What Clayton feared most right now was Dalia leaving his side.

Like water slipping through his fingers, leaving only traces behind, she might abandon him and disappear somewhere.

Clayton knew very little about Dalia beyond her status as the eldest daughter of the Molden barony.

He didn't know what she thought about on a daily basis or why she often wandered the streets alone, evading the household staff.

Perhaps his worries were unfounded.

Maybe Dalia simply needed some time alone and had no intention of leaving him, and he was overthinking it.

But everything he held dear had always left him.

Whether through death or vague partings, they all vanished, leaving nothing behind to stay with him.

This was why Clayton could never suppress his anxiety. And the more important Dalia became to him, the stronger his unease grew.

He felt he could no longer live in this world without Dalia.

More precisely, he couldn't live without Dalia's blood.

The moment he tasted Dalia's blood in the imperial palace, it was as if he had fallen under a curse.

The image of Dalia smiling blissfully as she held the child was seared into his mind.

Dalia loved children.

Perhaps she even wanted to have a child. But she could never bear his child.

This wasn't because Dalia was rumored to be barren.

Even if Dalia's body was perfectly healthy, there were special conditions required to conceive a child in the Seir family.

And whether those conditions were met depended solely on Clayton's will.

"If she has my child…"

Dalia would die.

Thus, Dalia could never bear his child. And they could never become a true family.

To at least maintain the illusion of family, he needed to find a perfect cage that would prevent Dalia from flying away.

A cage so beautiful and expansive that she wouldn't even realize it was a cage.

He already knew of the perfect place for that.

Though it was ominously called the "Beautiful Tomb," it was a place so dazzling that it inspired awe, as the name suggested.

"If she's there, everything will be fine."

As long as she never left that place, he could give her anything she desired.

He could bring her all the rare treasures in the world.

But she might feel a little lonely.

Because in that mansion, the only person she would be able to talk to would be him. That was why he hadn't brought any maids along in the first place.

To ensure that in an unfamiliar place, she had no one to rely on but him.

Clayton was lost in thought, staring at Dalia cradling the child, until her voice pulled him back to reality.

"Would you like to see too, Your Grace?"

Before he knew it, Dalia had approached him, holding the child's face toward him.

The child, seemingly having forgotten the earlier incident, was now beaming with a wide smile, even looking a little excited.

"She's so pretty, isn't she?"

The unique powdery scent of a child, mixed with Dalia's faint fragrance, reached his nose.

As if drawn by something, Clayton answered.

"…Yes."

Then suddenly, a single thought flashed through his mind.

If he were to confine Dalia in the beautiful, expansive cage he had planned…

"Pretty."

Would he still be able to see that smile?