The Marquis's Proposal
Kayla reflexively glanced at the other party before her. Unlike herself, he was far too composed, which only fueled her suspicions. She barely managed to suppress the urge to narrow her eyes.
“Late as it may be, would you care to explain now?”
She had intended to make the request politely, but her tone came out stiff and laced with sarcasm despite herself.
The wrist holding the wine glass paused mid-twirl, and the Marquis slowly raised his head. His blue eyes met her face with a detached gaze.
Thinking that his neatly combed hair from a few hours ago must now be disheveled, Kayla found it difficult to meet his eyes directly.
“At present, the last person to have seen Basil was either me… or you.”
If you're not the culprit.
The latter words were muffled as he downed the remaining wine.
At those words, which could be either a confession or a warning, Kayla's back stiffened rigidly.
“Last night, I visited Archerfield due to a royal breakfast issue and had a clash with my grandfather. Coincidentally, Basil had brought theater tickets at that time.”
The word “clash” sounded like a heated argument to her ears.
After leisurely placing the empty glass on the table, the Marquis sank deep into the cushions. His broad shoulders fit the backrest oddly well. It was clearly a chair tailored to his frame, she thought with odd certainty in her hazy mind.
Kayla lowered her gaze, watching his long fingers—now ungloved—interlace, while listening to his voice.
“I knew he had become an actor with my grandfather's patronage, but yesterday was unexpected.”
His words were true.
In exchange for overlooking her father's cover-up of her kidnapping, her father had retired early, and Gerard Duke's patronage had shifted from her to Basil.
What was unexpected was Basil's subsequent actions. She had thought he would at least graduate to build connections, but he had turned to acting.
Well, in the end, it was the optimal choice.
Yet the Marquis's voice, saying it was unexpected, sounded somewhat indifferent. As if he had anticipated it.
“Since the situation no longer allowed for conversation with my grandfather, I left shortly after Basil departed.”
The Marquis, who had suddenly cut off his words, slowly lifted his long eyelashes and fixed his blue eyes on Kayla, filled with suspicion.
“You were there. In your pajamas.”
Her eyes, frozen like ice at the unexpected turn, became entangled with his piercing gaze. She swallowed hard. The sour and sweet taste lingering in her mouth now felt bitter enough to choke her.
Kayla lifted her chin. And asked, truly curious.
“What was I doing?”
She tensed her jaw, trying not to think about how strange her question sounded.
“Don't you remember?”
The cool gaze struck her anxiously racing heart like a blow. Her lips, which she had tried to keep in a natural expression, twitched regrettably.
“It might differ from my memory, so I'm asking.”
“…You were staggering. Beside the corpse.”
His sharp eyes nimbly caught every change in her reaction to each of his words.
“You saw me but passed by anyway. Holding a weapon.”
“That can't be. There's no way…”
Kayla's eyes wavered greatly.
Niguel, supporting his temples with two fingers, quietly observed the process of her radiant emerald eyes turning into a thicket. Facing that observational gaze, she naturally felt as if she were being chased.
To suppress the rising fear, she tightly closed and opened her eyes. Then she looked at the spot that had been bothering her since earlier—since he had interlaced his fingers—as if to bite it off.
“How did you hurt your hand?”
Contrary to her expectation that he would be embarrassed, Niguel instead let out a hollow laugh. Then, raising his head from where he had been leaning, he lifted his hand—now showing the medical white tape on the inside of his palm—into the air for better view.
“Does this look like an attack wound?”
Honestly, it wasn't a wound from attacking. It could be a defensive wound or self-inflicted.
Could that weapon be this knife?
After some thought, Kayla took out the item from the bag and lifted the black cloth.
“Why, going to cut again?”
“……?”
“You did this. With that.”
Her green pupils dilated to their limit. Shaking her head in disbelief, Kayla watched as he leaned his upper body forward, closing the distance.
“Since you didn't recognize me, you cut my hand that was waving in front of your face with that, like this. So, tell me, do you have somnambulism?”
With no one forcing her, her throat tightened as if choked.
“T-This isn't mine.”
“Who would believe that.”
Her breathing grew increasingly rough.
“It won't be easy to clear your name of injustice. Even if the sleepwalking is true, the matter of murder is separate.”
Her hands, clenched white, gripped so tightly that the knife trembled. Leaning back against the backrest, he draped one arm over the armrest. Except for the thin layer of boredom like frost, he stared at Kayla with a surprisingly ruthless light.
Kayla had a premonition that things ahead would not go smoothly.
“Let me get to the point. I don't see you as the culprit.”
The breath she had been holding in relief burst out, but only for a moment.
“Now your alibi is in my hands.”
Is this something to smile about? She found it absurd that he was smiling faintly.
Kayla turned the events over in her mind one by one. And tried to infer his intentions from the series of events and his words and actions so far.
“What are you trying to propose to me that you're going to such lengths?”
“As expected, the daughter of Chief Superintendent Boris Moss is different.”
He interlocked his fingers behind his head with a somewhat relieved expression. Whether intentional or not, that posture only emphasized his sturdy build.
In contrast to him, who leaned comfortably against the cushions displaying leisure, Kayla felt her shoulder muscles tightening.
“You said there was a witness.”
She muttered as if hoping that witness would be a savior for her.
“That's why you're facing me like this. Absurdly so.”
As her expectations were one by one dismantled by his arrogant sneer, Kayla's complexion grew increasingly pale.
Niguel glanced at her pallid face and suddenly stood up.
“Let me finish what I was saying.”
As his broad shoulders straightened, she fell into the illusion that the ceiling had suddenly lowered.
“I also don't have a clear alibi. Like you, I'm not particularly close to Basil either. Some employees might deny my suspicion, but people will suspect I instigated it.”
Approaching the display case, he picked up the bottle and returned to his seat, looking her straight in the eyes.
“My grandfather and I will be quite troubled by this incident. Meanwhile, the political circles will seize this opportunity to try to get their hands on my business and my grandfather's arms industry.”
Glug, glug. The empty glass was filled with wine.
“Moreover, they'll dig up Basil's ‘inclinations’ that you also know well, and a flood of speculative articles will pour out tarnishing my and my family's honor. Doesn't just thinking about it give you a headache?”
Sitting down, he let out a wry smile at Kayla's trembling complexion.
“You know the facts; others won't be ignorant of them either.”
After wetting his throat, the Marquis pierced her with his vivid blue eyes as if this was the main point from now on.
“It will take time, but I will remain unscathed. But you will collapse in an instant. I've already found out your name; what about your house and workplace? Your previous life is gone.”
Even without him diligently and kindly informing her, Kayla already felt overwhelmed.
“So the solution is an engagement?”
“That can't be.”
The Marquis furrowed his brows with an expression of disappointment at Kayla's hasty judgment.
“We have to get married.”
“……What, what did you say?”
“And quickly, at that. Don't worry. It won't be long. A year should suffice.”
Her opinion was absent in the lightning-fast development. Quickly erasing her dumbfounded expression, she asked.
“A year? And then what?”
“There's the excellent institution called divorce. We should enjoy its benefits too.”
Benefits? Is that a benefit? No, anyway.
“Wait a moment. You have a fiancée, Marquis.”
She eagerly listed points where such a plan couldn't possibly hold from the start.
“Getting married doesn't create an alibi that didn't exist. What will you say to the Duke? Will the Princess agree? Can it really be this easy, as you say?”
“Does that mean it's fine as long as there's no Theophany?”
“Huh? What do you mean…….”
At the countless questions that popped out, Kayla was on the verge of losing her mind.
“Did you originally want to become a librarian?”
Niguel downed the wine in one gulp with a nonchalant face and waited for her answer.
Completely unable to follow the flow of the conversation, Kayla only blinked.
“If there's something you want to do, I'll support you. Do as you please in the meantime.”
What was this? A carrot strategy following the whip?