A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Caelith walked to the doorway and glanced outside.

The young man still stood beneath the opposite wall, half-shadowed by the fading afternoon light. His gaze rested silently upon the embroidery shop. The moment he noticed her stepping out, he lowered his eyes at once.

Yet he did not leave.

Caelith instructed Yvaine to bring several steamed buns out and offer them to him.

Yvaine did exactly that, and the young man accepted them quietly. He looked once at her but said nothing, lowering his head to eat in silence.

When he finished, he remained standing there exactly as before.

On the fifth day, Caelith could no longer endure the strange man’s silence. She stepped outside and stopped directly before him, her fists pressing against her sides.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, but firmly. "And why do you stand here every day? Is there something you need from us?"

The young man looked at her for a very long time, but just like before, he said nothing at all.

When Yvaine was about to leave, at last, he spoke in a quiet, somewhat harsh voice, "My name is Erian."

His voice was rough and hoarse, as though he had gone years without speaking to another soul.

Caelith, who had been watching them from the gate, studied him carefully. Then, she stepped out and nodded at him.

"Erian? What is your family name?"

The young man shook his head, a hint of regret in his eyes as he replied, "I am only called Erian."

"Who gave you that name?"

His gaze lowered as he hid his hands behind his back and shifted on his feet. "Sir Grandien did."

Caelith froze right there where she stood.

Sir Grandien? Uncle Osvald?

Her heartbeat faltered violently. She lowered her voice instinctively and asked, "Did you... know Osvald Grandien?"

Erian nodded. "I followed him for twelve years."

Tears welled instantly in Caelith’s eyes. "You..."

"Sir Grandien ordered me to stay alive," Erian said quietly, though his tone faltered as he saw her tears. "Before he died, he told me to come find you, Miss."

Caelith felt as if the young man were speaking a foreign language. Somehow, she could not entirely understand what he was saying.

Tears slid down her cheeks one after another without restraint.

Erian did not move. He simply remained standing there silently, waiting.

Only after a very long time did Caelith finally calm down and speak again.

"Have you eaten?"

Erian seemed startled by the question. "...No."

Caelith turned and walked back inside. "Come. Follow me."

Inside the embroidery shop, Erian sat at the table and ate three full bowls of porridge in silence.

Yvaine stood nearby, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Who exactly is he?" she whispered to her cousin.

Caelith had no idea how to explain this at first, but then, she simply declared, "He’ll stay here from now on and help us with work."

After Erian finished eating, Caelith took a seat beside him and regarded him with an assessing look.

"What can you do?"

Erian simply shrugged. "Anything."

A brief pause followed.

"Killing people. Guarding a household. Physical labor."

Caelith fell silent for a moment before lowering her voice in a careful manner.

"From now on, you are never to mention killing anyone. You are never to speak of the Grandien family either." Her gaze fixed steadily upon him. "Your name is only Erian. You are simply someone we took in for help. Do you understand?"

Erian nodded, his eyes sparkling with resolve.

"There’s an empty room in the rear courtyard. You can stay there for now."

The young man rose to his feet and bowed deeply toward her. "Thank you, Miss."

Then, without another word, he went to the back courtyard.

Yvaine stood nearby, looking utterly bewildered. "Sister... who exactly is this person? How can you let him in just like that?"

Caelith sighed, but remained strangely composed.

"There is nothing to be worried about. He looked pitiful, so I let him stay. If there’s any heavy work that needs doing in the future, let him handle it."

"...Alright. Whatever you say, Sister."

***

After Erian moved into the rear courtyard, he barely spoke at all.

Every morning before dawn, he would already be awake––chopping firewood, drawing water, sweeping the courtyard.

By the time Caelith and Yvaine rose from bed, the courtyard would already be spotless, the water jars filled to the brim, and the firewood stacked neatly against the wall.

After finishing his tasks, he would sit quietly in a corner without moving, like a soldier waiting for instructions. Like a statue carved from stone.

At first, Yvaine found him rather frightening.

"Sister, he just sits there staring all day. It’s honestly unsettling."

Caelith glanced toward the rear courtyard. Beneath the old pear tree, Erian sat motionless in silence, his gaze fixed upon some distant place no one else could see.

"If he wants to sit there, let him sit."

Yvaine pursed her lips but said nothing more.

Yet after several days, she gradually realized that although Erian rarely spoke, he handled every task with remarkable precision and restraint.

If asked to carry something, he carried it. If told to run an errand, he went immediately. If instructed to work in the courtyard, he obeyed without question.

He never asked why, nor did he ever linger where he was not needed.

One afternoon, Yvaine was boiling water in the kitchen when she accidentally knocked over the kettle.

Scalding water splashed across the back of her hand.

"Ah!" She cried out sharply, but before her voice had even fully fallen, a figure had already rushed to her side.

It was Erian.

Without a single word, he grabbed her wrist and plunged her hand into the nearby basin of cold water.

His movements were swift, precise, almost instinctive.

Yvaine froze in shock, momentarily forgetting even the pain.

Erian lowered his head slightly, staring at her reddening hand submerged beneath the water. A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"Don’t move," he said quietly. "Keep it there for a quarter of an hour."

It was the first time Yvaine had ever heard him speak such a long sentence.

Caelith emerged from the room just in time to witness the scene. For some reason, her emotions suddenly became strangely tangled.