If You Leave Without a Word - Chapter 238

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

With a displeased sigh, the Grand Duke rose. No matter how tempting the courtesan, he didn’t want to embrace someone so physically broken. He ordered the woman to be thrown outside and left, then turned to leave himself—when suddenly a memory flashed in his mind.

“The king and queen are taken care of. Search thoroughly and bring me those children. They may have disguised themselves as servants to survive, so every servant’s face must be examined!”

“The princess had the same red hair as the king, and the prince had a reddish-brown hair similar to the queen’s. According to the head maid, the princess has a burn scar on the inside of her thigh.”

“A burn scar? Is it possible for royalty to bear such marks?”

“She got the scar from an accident when she was very young—a nanny spilled hot water on her. If we check the thighs of young girls around five or six, we should be able to find the princess immediately.”

The scar on the inner thigh.

Though the Grand Duke had never seen the princess himself, the description of her appearance lingered in his mind.

A red-haired Amasril refugee—bearing the princess’s mark…

Could it all be a coincidence?

The odds of coincidence seemed slim. After all, the Amasril queen, thought to have been killed during the conquest war, was secretly spared. So why not her daughter?

The Grand Duke’s face hardened slowly.

Then, from somewhere came a man’s scream, almost a wail:

“Do you know who that woman is?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing. We’ll clean it up quickly.”

“Nothing? How dare anyone come here yelling so loudly? How dare they?”

“He says he’s the gypsy woman’s husband. He’s causing a scene demanding her release… We’ll deal with it immediately, Your Grace.”

Fearing the Grand Duke’s wrath for any failure, the guards hurriedly explained and apologized.

The gist was that they mistook a married woman for a courtesan and dragged her into the Grand Duke’s room. The Grand Duke’s face twisted with anger.

“If you knew who her brother was, you wouldn’t have done this!”

The man’s voice was so loud it echoed off the walls of the rustic outpost. It would take a powerful voice to carry like that.

“I’ll drag him out. Apologies, Your Grace.”

“Wait.”

The Grand Duke stopped the guard rushing out. Her brother? If the gypsy woman really was the surviving Amasril princess, then her brother would be the Amasril prince.

Though he thought it impossible, the Grand Duke waited for the man’s next words.

“My wife, my wife… She is kin to a great person, highly favored by the Emperor of this land!”

This was no trivial matter. The Grand Duke nodded and ordered the man to be brought before him.

Amasril refugees hid within Kristin’s lands of Arta. Harboring them was a grave crime forbidden by the Emperor. This alone could bring many charges against Duke Kristin. But if the gypsy woman really was Amasril royalty…

It might be a chance to eliminate the thorn in the Grand Duke’s side—Kristin’s daughter—and sever the lingering connection to Amasril once and for all.

The Grand Duke’s eyes gleamed darkly.

The tragedy began with that single statement.

“Who is this great person so dearly favored by the Emperor?”

Esther struggled to grasp what was happening. Forcing her dazed mind to focus, she scanned her surroundings and spotted a familiar back, quickly trying to lift herself up.

Then, a sharp pain shot through just below her chest. It seemed her ribs had been injured when kicked by the knights. Every breath stabbed her lungs painfully, causing Esther to wince.

“Answer me. What is the name and status of the one you’ve been boasting about selling?”

“…If I speak, will you release my wife?”

“Depends. How great this person you speak of really is.”

“He is… a very, very high-ranking person.”

Mobishi’s resolute tone made the Grand Duke burst into laughter.

He found it ridiculous that some gypsy from the borderlands would have powerful backing. Even if that were true, no one could threaten him—the Emperor’s own brother. At most, just a minor noble from some remote district.

Still, the Grand Duke allowed Mobishi inside to hear him out, just in case the gypsy woman before him truly was Amasril royalty. After all, her family might also be of royal blood.

“You’re joking. How could someone so distinguished have a kin who’s a wandering gypsy, selling her body?”

“My wife is not a courtesan.”

“How insolent! How dare you look me in the eye like that?”