"Move it a little to the left."
Douglas had served noble houses for more than thirty years, yet the Duchy of Arvona remained unlike any estate he had ever known.
The duchy itself was new.
The land was not.
For centuries, Arvona had existed as a forgotten northern province, a frozen frontier where monsters roamed freely, winters claimed more lives than wars, and few nobles had any desire to govern.
Everything changed after the Northern Campaign.
In recognition of his unparalleled victories, the Emperor elevated the province into a duchy and entrusted it to the Empire's greatest military commander.
Thus, Lord Noctellis Ellengarde became the first Duke of Arvona.
With the birth of the duchy came the birth of an entirely new household.
Experienced servants were recruited from every corner of the Empire, and Douglas, whose reputation for impeccable service had reached even the Imperial Palace, was appointed as the duke's butler.
He had expected a demanding master.
Perhaps even a cruel one.
After all, the Hero of the North was a man surrounded by frightening stories.
Instead, Douglas found a man of unsettling silence.
His Grace seldom spoke more than necessary.
He never wasted words on empty praise.
Nor did he indulge in needless anger.
Excellence was expected simply because it was one's duty.
Working for Duke Ellengarde was strangely uncomplicated.
If one performed well, the duke remained silent.
If one performed poorly, the duke merely looked at them.
That quiet disappointment was far more terrifying than any shouting.
For years, the manor reflected its master's nature.
Orderly.
Disciplined.
Immaculate.
And utterly devoid of warmth.
Then Lady Jemina arrived.
Against all reason, the once lifeless halls slowly filled with flowers, paintings, laughter, and enough delightful chaos to unsettle every servant in the household.
Then she disappeared.
One by one, every portrait was taken down.
Every flower arrangement vanished.
The manor slowly returned to the cold silence it had always known.
Until Duke Noctellis returned from suppressing the rebellion.
His first order was simple.
"Put every portrait back where it belongs."
No explanation followed.
None was offered.
The duke's expression remained as unreadable as ever, which only deepened everyone's confusion.
Douglas, however, carried out the order without hesitation.
Though inwardly...
He was anything but calm.
At present, the servants were halfway through restoring the manor.
There had originally been two hundred and forty-three portraits of the duchess.
Halfway through the task, they discovered that nearly a hundred were missing.
Douglas had spent the better part of the afternoon quietly interrogating every servant who might know their whereabouts when the duke summoned him.
He arrived in a rarely used corridor bathed in gentle afternoon light.
An enormous portrait of the duchess stood against the wall.
Lady Jemina herself had chosen the location years ago.
She claimed the afternoon sun made the colors look warmer.
In the painting, she sat among endless fields of golden autumn grass, wearing a pastel lilac dress that slipped gently from her shoulders.
Her smile was bright enough to illuminate the corridor more than the sunlight itself.
The duke stood before it.
Motionless.
Simply looking.
For the briefest moment, Douglas wondered if the afternoon light was playing tricks on his aging eyes.
He thought...
He saw longing.
No.
Perhaps grief.
It was difficult to tell.
The duke had never openly reciprocated the boundless affection his wife showered upon him.
Many questioned whether Lady Jemina was worthy of the Empire's greatest hero.
No one ever questioned how deeply she loved him.
After her disappearance, Duke Noctellis had ordered absolute silence.
No servant was permitted to speak of what had happened.
No one truly knew the truth.
Only rumors remained.
Lady Jemina had vanished from her chambers as though she had dissolved into thin air.
Teleportation was the only explanation anyone could imagine.
Yet such magic belonged exclusively to the Imperial Family and those granted permission to use it.
Unauthorized teleportation was a crime punished without mercy.
Even a duchess would not be spared.
"My lord," Douglas said with a respectful bow. "You summoned me."
"Douglas."
The duke never looked away from the painting.
"Have this portrait moved to my study."
Douglas blinked.
"...Yes, Your Grace."
The request itself was ordinary.
The location was not.
The duke's study had never displayed a single personal decoration.
Douglas waited, sensing there was more.
After a long silence, the duke finally spoke.
"What do you think of her?"
Douglas looked up.
"The duchess."
The unexpected question caught even a veteran butler off guard.
Years of experience saved him from showing it.
After a brief pause, he answered carefully.
"I believe this portrait speaks well of Her Grace."
A safe answer.
Or so he thought.
"This painting isn't enough."
The duke's voice remained calm.
Quiet.
Almost gentle.
"Nothing is enough."
Silence settled over the corridor.
The duke turned and walked away.
Douglas watched him disappear down the hall.
He had served countless noble families.
He had witnessed political marriages, passionate romances, bitter betrayals, and heartbreaking farewells.
Yet somehow...
The loneliest man he had ever met was the one who never spoke of loneliness.
Without another word, Douglas personally supervised the portrait's transfer.
When it was finally placed inside the duke's study, the room no longer looked quite so empty.
Neither, he suspected, did the duke.
Noctellis continued working long after midnight.
His chimera nature had always allowed him to endure what ordinary humans could not.
Days without sleep.
Endless battles.
Relentless labor.
His body scarcely complained.
He was grateful for it.
There was too much to accomplish.
The duchy had to remain stable.
Its defenses had to be strengthened.
Every report had to be reviewed.
Every dispute resolved.
Every decision made in advance.
He needed time.
Time to leave.
Time to search for her.
Time to stand beside her again.
Time to hear her voice.
The only way to buy that time was to leave Arvona capable of governing itself for several months without its duke.
His quill finally came to a halt.
Silence settled over the study.
Slowly, his gaze drifted upward.
The portrait.
Douglas had placed it exactly where he requested.
Jemina smiled from the canvas, seated in a sea of golden autumn grass beneath a clear blue sky.
The firelight flickering across the room failed to capture that smile.
It had never been meant for darkness.
It belonged beneath the sun.
Noctellis found himself wondering...
Had she ever smiled like that after he finally confessed?
He searched his memory.
No.
She hadn't smiled.
She cried.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
She had cried as though every tear she had been holding back for years had finally broken free.
It was the reaction he deserved.
Yet remembering it still tightened something deep within his chest.
He had searched battlefields without hesitation.
Crossed kingdoms without complaint.
Endured wounds that would have killed ordinary men.
Yet somehow...
A silent room had become unbearable.
Yet he also knew where those feelings had come from.
An order.
One spoken by the woman he loved.
The chimera within him had accepted it without resistance.
It had reshaped his instincts.
His desires.
His heart.
Most of what he was belonged to that chimera.
But what about the man beneath it?
Did the human part of him love her as well?
Or was he merely convincing himself that it did?
Noctellis had no answer.
Perhaps he never would.
His eyes remained fixed on her smiling face.
Whether this love had been born naturally...
He no longer cared.
Because it was Jemina.
The most extraordinary woman he had ever known.
She had loved him before he understood what love was.
She had offered warmth to a man made entirely of winter.
She had laughed inside a home built for silence.
She had reached for him again and again, even when he refused every outstretched hand.
She loved every part of him.
Even the monster.
Especially the monster.
His fingers brushed the edge of the portrait's frame.
A rare, almost imperceptible smile softened his face.
"I'll be with you soon..."
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
"...my love."