Find Her, Now

The weather had grown warmer, as if announcing that summer was approaching. The sleeves of those working had long since shortened, and the curtains and carpets in the room had also become thinner to match the season.

Perhaps the curtains were swaying in the breeze blowing through the open window. Clayton, who had woken up earlier than usual, was tapping his office desk lightly with his fingers.

His face appeared deeply troubled, as if lost in thought. The focus of the man, who had been staring into space, shifted downward.

His crimson eyes fell upon a small glass bottle neatly placed on the desk. It was the abortion medicine Clayton had ordered to be added to Dalia's dinner the previous afternoon.

Stopping his tapping on the desk, he picked up the glass bottle and rolled it in his hand. The purple liquid inside the bottle shone transparently.

As Clayton stared at it with indifferent eyes, the events of the previous day flashed through his mind.

Clayton had ordered the abortion medicine to be added to Dalia's dinner but ultimately retracted the command, overwhelmed by hesitation.

"There are no physical issues. However, I cannot guarantee that there won't be psychological repercussions."

One of the things Clayton feared most was Dalia's reaction after losing the child. He had often heard stories of women who would readily sacrifice their lives to save their children.

He knew that a woman's maternal instincts could sometimes surpass human understanding, and he feared how Dalia might react to losing her child because of him.

That was why Selman's words eventually held him back. Perhaps noticing his hesitation, even Jason added a comment.

"If the only reason you are certain the child in her womb is not yours is that the conditions for conception were not fulfilled... wouldn't it be better to observe the situation a bit longer?"

Haven't I observed enough?

Even though he had known about the pregnancy for some time, he had neither interrogated nor pressured Dalia. Yet, Dalia had used a maid to gather funds, and the crown prince had declared himself to be the father of the child.

What more is there to investigate? He found Jason's so-called advice ridiculous. But.

"You haven't even had a proper conversation with her."

Jason's single remark hit him like a blow to the back of his head.

"Have I truly never had a conversation with Dalia?"

Come to think of it, he realized that he had never even considered speaking with Dalia, so consumed was he by the betrayal he felt. At that moment, the thought stuck in his mind like a jagged stone jutting out of a flat ground.

Clayton recalled the last image he had of Dalia. Her urgent voice, pleading for him to listen, seemed to echo in his ears.

"The lady continues to request an audience with you, Your Grace. She says there is something she must tell you."

Even after being confined to the tower, she had reportedly asked the maids who brought her meals dozens of times to arrange a meeting with him. Yet, he had ignored her every time, unwilling to face her.

"..."

Clayton, after pondering something for a moment, Rose from his seat.

I need to meet Dalia.

I should meet Dalia and at least ask if what the crown prince said is true. Just as he thought that and was about to open the door—

He found himself face to face with Jason, who was about to knock. Seeing Clayton seemingly about to leave the room, Jason tilted his head curiously.

"Where are you going?"

As the duke rarely left his office these days, Jason felt an uneasy sense of foreboding. However, his face visibly brightened at Clayton's response.

"I'm thinking of going to the tower."

"You're going to see the lady? That's a wise decision!"

It felt rewarding to have gone to such lengths to persuade Clayton yesterday. Jason stepped aside, clearing the path for the duke to pass.

Just as Clayton was about to walk past the rare sight of Jason smiling brightly, he suddenly asked why Jason had come to see him.

"By the way, what brings you here?"

Only then did Jason remember he had come to the office to report something. He let out a short sigh before beginning to relay the news he almost forgot to deliver.

"A maid has been missing since last night, it seems."

"A maid?"

"Yes."

Servants disappearing suddenly was not uncommon. Most of the time, it was due to personal circumstances, such as failing to send word in time, getting caught up in revelry after work, or losing contact until the next day.

The missing maid would probably crawl back in by the afternoon. With an indifferent tone, Clayton ordered appropriate action to be taken. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked:

"By the way, what was that maid's duty?"

"Oh, she was in charge of bringing meals to the lady. But she didn't come to fetch this morning's meal, which is how they realized she wasn't in the estate."

However, upon hearing that the maid was responsible for the tower, Clayton's steps abruptly halted.

His face visibly hardened as he turned his head.

"She was responsible for where?"

"Pardon? Oh, she was in charge of bringing meals to the lady. Is there a problem…?"

Sensing that something was off about Clayton's expression, Jason trailed off.

An ominous feeling crept over him. Of all people, the missing maid just had to be the one responsible for Dalia. Was this truly a coincidence? Could it be brushed off as one of those occasional mishaps?

All kinds of foreboding thoughts began invading his mind.

"Surely not…"

Then, as a certain possibility flashed through his mind, Clayton's body began to move, almost as if on instinct. He headed somewhere at a near-running pace.

"Your Grace…!"

Jason called out as Clayton suddenly rushed out, chasing after him. What could possibly be so urgent? The question crossed his mind, but the grave expression on his master's face stopped him from asking anything.

Following closely behind, they arrived at the tower where Dalia was confined. In no time, Clayton had ascended the stairs and stood in front of the room where Dalia was supposed to be.

He hesitated briefly, as if contemplating something, before grabbing the doorknob and turning it. However—

Creaaak—

The iron door, which should have been securely locked, swung open far too easily. The gatekeeper, who had hurriedly caught up behind Clayton and Jason, turned pale.

"W-why is the door…?!"

"..."

Ignoring the sighs and baffled murmurs behind him, he stepped inside through the open door. His foot bumped into a tray that had likely been pushed through the slot for breakfast.

The spilled food on the floor indicated that no one had touched the meal.

Whether he noticed his shoes getting dirty or not, Clayton silently surveyed the room.

The room, devoid of any human warmth, contained only traces that someone had once lived there. A chilling air lingered.

Clayton stared into the empty room for a long moment before stepping forward. Each step he took echoed heavily with the sound of his boots.

He silently began tracing Dalia's presence. He picked up the fallen chair where she had once sat, gently smoothed the rumpled sheets of the bed where she had lain, and gazed at the window she might have looked through.

Dalia was gone. No…

Dalia had escaped.

Clayton's eyes wandered into the void, unable to grasp the reality of the situation.

A heavy silence, colder than the chill radiating from the walls, seemed to settle in the air.

The gatekeeper, trembling and sweating nervously, stammered from behind.

"S-she was definitely inside last night, so how…?!"

"If you don't know, then what good are you?!"

Jason interrogated the gatekeeper in Clayton's stead. Then, as if suddenly recalling something, the trembling gatekeeper spoke up.

"N-now that I think about it, after eating the snack the maid brought yesterday, I suddenly felt drowsy and might have dozed off for a bit…"

"What?! If that happened, you should have reported it immediately!"

"I-I'm sorry!"

The gatekeeper collapsed to the floor, bowing to the duke in desperation. However, Clayton didn't spare a single glance at the man pleading for forgiveness.

It wasn't the gatekeeper's fault. It was all because of his own complacency.

He had arrogantly assumed that the estate's tight security would prevent any external intrusion and that there were no enemies within.

Above all.

'Did I trust her, even a little?'

At least to the extent of believing Dalia wouldn't flee from him.

The real problem was the lingering trace of trust he still had in the woman who betrayed him.

With unfocused eyes staring into the void, Clayton muttered quietly.

"Find her. Immediately."