A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

As she spoke, she tugged lightly at her worn sleeve, as though to prove her plight.

William stared at her, his expression shifting again and again.

"And... Lady Caelith?" he asked, his voice tightening slightly. "Your cousin—how is she?"

Yvaine let out a quiet, inward scoff.

Outwardly, however, her expression grew even more sorrowful.

"My sister?" she said softly. "She suffers even more. Every day she rises before dawn and works until nightfall, selling embroidery at the market just to earn a few coins for rice. The clothes she wears... are even worse than mine."

She glanced back toward the clothing shop, biting her lip as if in helpless longing.

"I only came out today hoping to buy her something decent to wear... but..."

Her voice trailed off.

William followed her gaze.

His eyes landed on the pale moon-white dress inside the shop.

He fell silent.

Then, without another word, he reached into his robe and pulled out a bulging purse, pressing it into Yvaine’s hands.

"Take it," he said gruffly. "Buy her clothes. Buy the best dresses they sell here."

Yvaine lowered her eyes to look.

The purse was heavy—at least several hundred coins.

Her eyes lit up instantly. "Mr. Laurel, I—"

"No need to say anything." He waved it off, though his expression was awkward. "The Emberlyn family treated me well in the past. And lady Caelith... she is a good person. It is only right."

Yvaine’s gaze flickered.

Then she sighed again, as though troubled.

"It’s just that my sister... she never thinks of herself. Only works, day in and day out. Just a few days ago, she was saying she lacked a proper embroidery frame... better fabric... and..." She paused, lowering her voice, "she wondered if she would ever see the familiar faces from before again."

William’s eyes brightened at once. "She... mentioned me?"

"Of course she did," Yvaine said without hesitation. "She said Mr. Laurel is kind, honest—that the meat you brought to the Emberlyn household was always the finest."

Color rushed to his face.

Without another word, he dug into his robe again and produced a second purse, even heavier than the first.

"Take this too," he said. "Buy her what she needs. Good food, too—so she doesn’t overwork herself."

Yvaine accepted it, weighing it in her hand.

Heavier indeed.

Her smile curved sweetly, though her tone remained modest.

"This is too much, Mr. Laurel... how can I—"

"Just take it!" he insisted, flustered. "I—I should get back. There’s work to do. If you need anything... come find me!"

With that, he grabbed his knife and strode off.

After a few steps, he turned back for one last glance.

Yvaine waved to him.

Only when he disappeared into the crowd did she lower her gaze to the two purses in her hands—and laugh softly.

Men... They’re all the same.

***

By evening, Caelith pushed open the gate of the old house, her body aching with exhaustion.

She had stood all day at the market, earning only a few dozen coins. The rouge had cost fifteen—what remained was barely enough for two measures of coarse grain.

She set down her things and moved toward the house—

Then stopped.

Inside the main room, a round table had been laid. And upon it... a full spread of dishes.

The dishes were lavish—braised pork glistening in rich sauce, stewed chicken fragrant and tender, fresh greens mixed with oil, and a flask of wine set beside them. Steam rose in curling wisps, carrying a warmth that did not belong to this broken house.

Caelith blinked, momentarily disoriented, as though she had stepped into the wrong place.

"Yvaine?" she called.

No answer.

She took a few cautious steps forward, about to call again when heavy footsteps sounded behind her.

She turned.

William Laurel stood in the doorway.

He had changed into clean clothes, yet the faint scent of grease still clung to him. His face was flushed, his gaze unfocused—he had clearly been drinking.

Caelith froze, instinctively stepping back.

"Mr. Laurel?"

William looked at her and grinned.

"Lady Caelith," he said, his voice thick with drink, "I have been waiting for you."

Her fingers tightened around what she held.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice steady despite the unease rising within her. "What do you want?"

He stepped forward.

She stepped back.

Until her back met the edge of the table, leaving her nowhere to retreat.

"I heard from your sister," he said, his eyes gleaming with something unsettling. "She said you’ve been suffering... working day and night... and that you still think of me often."

His gaze lingered on her, heavy, intent.

"And so..." he added, his voice lowering, thick with meaning, "I came." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Caelith’s pupils tightened slightly.

"I did not—"

"Lady Caelith." William cut her off, stepping closer still. "Do you know how many years I have thought of you? The day you were married, I lay at home for three days. Three days without opening my stall. I thought of you... until my chest ached."

Her back pressed against the edge of the table. Her hands trembled faintly at her sides.

"Mr. Laurel," she said, forcing steadiness into her voice, "calm yourself first. Let us sit... and speak properly."

"I am calm," William said, his voice quiet but resolute. "I only wish to tell you this—after all these years, I still cannot let you go. You have lost the Emberlyn family, left the Valehart household... I do not mind any of that. Come with me. I will provide for you—good food, good clothes. It’s better than suffering here."

As he spoke, he reached out, grasping for her wrist.

Caelith recoiled sharply, slipping aside.

"Sister!" she called out. "Yvaine!"

No answer.

"Yvaine!"

Still nothing.

A chill sank deep into her chest.

William stepped closer again, pressing in.

The space between them shrank—heavy, suffocating.

His shadow loomed over her.

"Your sister told me," William said, his voice low and certain. "She said you were willing to accept me. I gave her money—she’s the one who told me to come."

For a moment, Caelith’s mind went blank—buzzing, hollow, as though struck.

Then, in one swift motion, she tore the dark iron hairpin from her hair and clenched it tight in her hand.

But before anything more could happen—

Bang!

The rotten wooden door behind them burst open with a violent kick, slamming hard against the wall with a thunderous crash.