The S class Guide belongs to the Duke

~Chapter 3~

The first thing Caius heard that morning was the sound of something breaking.

The porcelain bowl shattered against the floor before the maid even realized her hand had gone slack, and for one heartbeat too long, no one moved to clean it up.

Caius barely noticed the mess.

His entire world had narrowed to the small, cold hand cradled between both of his, to Elewisa's closed eyes and the faint rise and fall of her chest. She hadn't woken once through the night.

Her fever had broken twice.

It had returned twice.

And each time it did, something in his chest tightened like a rope being pulled around his ribs.

"By the gods," the maid stammered, already dropping to her knees to gather the shards, "I'm so sorry, I—"

Caius looked up.

It was only because he happened to glance towards her face at exactly the wrong moment that he caught it — the flash of something dark and venomous in her eyes as she looked at Elewisa's still form on the bed. It was there and gone in an instant, smoothed over so quickly he might have imagined it, Caius stared at her.

He had spent his entire life learning to read people. Fear had a particular look. Guilt had another.

And hatred?

Hatred was rarely as easy to hide as people believed.

"What's your name?" he asked, quiet and even, though something colder had crept into his voice.

The maid's hands froze over the porcelain.

"I—it's—"

"Pardon me master." Halden's voice cut through the room before she could finish, brisk and apologetic as the butler stepped through the door. He shot the kneeling maid a look sharp enough to cut glass.

"Leave that. I'll have someone clean it."

“Yes”

The maid scrambled to her feet, bowed twice in quick succession, and fled the room without another word, leaving the mess behind her.

Caius watched her go, he had memorized her face.

"Master," Halden continued, folding his hands neatly in front of him, "I've settled matters with Lord Ashcombe regarding last night's missed meeting. He was understanding, given the circumstances." A pause, delicately timed. "Perhaps now would be a good moment for you to rest as well. You've been at her side all night."

"I'm not leaving."

"Master, with all due respect—she is a maid. A well-regarded one, certainly, but the staff will begin to talk if you continue to devote this much personal attention to—"

"She is family," Caius said, and the words came out harder than he intended, final in a way that left no room for argument. "I don't care what the staff think, Halden. I care about what happened to her, and I intend to find out."

He remembered Cedric's words from the night before.

“You might want to look into how your household is run, Count Hailan. It's rather unbecoming of a count to keep murderers among his staff."

"Or did you not hear what the duke said?"

"I heard him."

"Then you understand."

Halden's expression became solemn.

"Yes, Master."

"I don't want assumptions. I don't want rumors. I want information."

Caius's gaze returned to Elewisa.

"Find out who was near the lake last night. Find out who saw her after supper. Question everyone who worked this floor."

He paused.

"And don't let anyone know I'm investigating."

Halden inclined his head.

"As you wish."

He hesitated before adding, "Though I'd ask that we not disturb her further this morning. She needs rest, whatever the cause of her condition."

Caius nodded.

After a moment, he finally stood.

His thumb brushed once over the back of Elewisa's hand before he forced himself to let go.

He followed Halden into the corridor.

The door eased shut behind them.

"Tell me what you've learned."

Halden's expression grew cautious.

"The maids I've questioned all describe her similarly. Quiet. Keeps to herself. Rarely speaks unless spoken to."

Caius said nothing.

"No one admits to seeing her last night."

"Not one?"

"Not one."

Halden lowered his voice.

"Several mentioned that she sometimes walks the grounds after dark. One or two suggested she may simply have lost her footing near the lake."

Caius's eyes narrowed.

"An accident."

"That is the working theory."

"And who decided that?"

"The head maid."

Silence.

Caius remembered Elewisa's bruised wrists.

The rope marks.

His expression hardened.

"Continue."

Halden nodded.

"Some of the staff also mentioned that Elewisa isn't particularly..."

He hesitated.

"Graceful."

Caius looked at him.

"You're telling me a girl was bound and thrown into a lake—and the conclusion is that she tripped?"

"Master, I'm only telling you what they claim."

Caius's jaw tightened.

Someone in this manor tried to kill her.

Cedric's voice returned to him.

Cold.

Certain.

Caius hated the man.

But he couldn't deny that the duke had been right about one thing.

Something was wrong.

"Where is the duke?"

Halden blinked at the sudden question.

"The duke requested an audience with you this morning. He's waiting in the drawing room."

Caius was already walking.

He found Cedric exactly where he expected — seated with maddening precision, back straight, teacup lifted with the kind of unhurried grace that made every gesture look like an insult aimed personally at whoever was watching. Perfect bastard, Caius thought, arranging his face into something civil before he crossed the threshold.

"You're quite late," Cedric said without looking up.

Caius forced a smile and took the seat across from him. "My apologies. I had a rather eventful night." He gestured vaguely at the room and took a seat opposite him "I trust the accommodations were adequate?"

"Adequate," Cedric repeated, the word carried an insult all by itself.

Cedric finally lifted his eyes. “One might have expected slightly warmer hospitality for a duke arriving on the emperor's business, but I suppose your household has had other concerns to manage."

Complaining already, Caius thought sourly, and this after he asked for nothing more than whatever room could be spared, damn he even apologized for the inconvenience of his own early arrival. He kept the thought behind his teeth. It wasn't worth the satisfaction of saying aloud.

"What brings you to my territory, if I may ask." Caius kept his tone light, though his jaw had already begun to tighten.

"Official duties." Cedric set his cup down with a small, precise click against its saucer. "As my letter mentioned, my unit will be arriving shortly. I trust rooms can be arranged for them."

"How long do you intend to stay?"

"That hasn't been decided." Cedric's gaze lifted at last, cool and unreadable. "Though I confess, I'd prefer not to linger longer than necessary in a household with a murderer among its staff."

The table cracked beneath Caius's palm before he'd even decided to strike it. "You've gone too far."

Cedric didn't flinch. "Have I? Tell me, Count Caius—" and there it was, the name dropped like a stone into still water, deliberate and unbothered, "—how exactly does a maid end up bound in a sack, thrown into a lake, and drowning, purely by accident? Does that sound reasonable to you? Or did you leave your intellect somewhere on the training field, the same place you left your instincts?" A faint, humorless curve touched his mouth. "I recall you topped our class second, once. I find myself wondering how."

Caius's fingers curled tight against the arm of his chair. "My household is already investigating. I've given clear instruction that—"

"You're remarkably composed for a man whose staff nearly murdered someone under his own roof." Cedric's voice stayed level, almost bored, which made the words land harder than if he'd shouted them. "I'd expect fury. Panic. Something. Instead you sit here defending your household's competence to me over tea, the morning after she nearly died in your lake." He tilted his head slightly, studying Caius the way one might study a puzzle that had stopped being interesting. "Is that restraint, Caius? Or don't you actually believe anything happened to her at all?"

A faint, humorless curve touched his mouth. "I recall you topped our class second, once. I find myself wondering how."

“If you can't even protect your own people, perhaps you should reconsider whether you're qualified to protect anyone else."

Caius's temper finally snapped.

"Enjoy your stay, Duke Cedric. I hope your business concludes swiftly."

He turned toward the door.

"And I hope you find your way out of my manor just as quickly."

Then his gaze shifted toward the window.

Something about the previous night still bothered him.

Not the rescue.

Not the lake.

Her.

The moment her heart had stopped, he had felt something strange.

And when it started again—

For one impossible instant, the constant pressure in his body had disappeared.

Then it had returned.

Cedric's expression hardened.

He didn't like things he couldn't explain.

Especially when they involved people.

Three floors below, in a narrow room tucked behind the laundry stores, Petra paced a tight, furious line across the floorboards.

"He cared for her all night," she hissed, arms crossed so tight her knuckles had gone white. "Sat by her bed like she's some kind of treasure. Over a maid. Over her."

"Keep your voice down," Orla muttered from where she sat perched on an overturned crate, though there was little real caution in it — more irritation at being reminded of a risk she'd rather not think about.

In the corner, half-hidden behind a stack of folded linens, Sable sat with her knees drawn to her chest, shaking hard enough that her teeth had begun to chatter, though the room wasn't cold.

"We should never have—" she started.

"Should never have what?" Petra rounded on her instantly, eyes narrowing. "Should never have finally done something about her? You were there, Sable. You held the sack open same as the rest of us."

"I didn't want to," Sable whispered. "I only came because I was afraid of what you'd do if I didn't."

"And you should still be afraid," Petra said, low and sharp, closing the distance between them until Sable pressed herself back against the wall. "Because if she wakes up and starts talking, it's not just her who ends up in trouble. It's all of us. You included."

"The head maid didn't find anything," Orla offered, almost bored. "No one even suspects—"

"That's now," Petra snapped. "What happens when she opens her mouth?" Her gaze slid back to Sable, colder this time, deliberate. "We finish this before she wakes up. That's the only way any of us stay safe."

Sable's breath caught, horror rising fast enough to choke the words in her throat. "You can't be serious. If we—if something happens to her now, with the duke already accusing us of—"

"Then you'd better hope," Petra said quietly, stepping close enough that Sable flinched, "that you're still useful enough to keep your mouth shut and your hands steady. Because I promise you, there are far worse things waiting for girls who talk."

Sable said nothing more. She only nodded, small and trembling, the fear in her throat swallowing every word she still wanted to say.

Three floors above them, Elewisa's fingers twitched beneath the blankets.

Her eyelids fluttered.

Her lungs drew in a slow, painful breath.

Then her eyes opened.

For several seconds, she saw nothing but the ceiling above her.

She tried to move.

Pain shot through her body.

She gasped.

And then a voice spoke inside her head.

[System initialization complete.]

Elewisa froze.

[Congratulations, Host.]

Her heart began to pound.

[You have awakened as an S-Class Guide.]