With a teared stained face, the writing slowly turned to unreadable scribbles- it was a letter written by her late husband but she did not dare continue and threw the parchment into the hearth, staring at the flames as it disintegrates into ash. 

"My deepest condolences for your loss," a soft and low voice was heard nearby. 

It was an evening riddled with many tragedies and the overwhelming scent of roses filled the room to the point of it being nauseating. The woman let her body fall onto the carved settee, she was utterly exhausted, inhaling deeply and taking in her first breath of emptiness. 

"....but have you considered the imperial family's proposal?" 

The man who looked down at her with a tender smile, was dazzingly beautiful as when he first arrived at the estate.But how could she have known? The one who took care of the dukedom's affairs was a disgusting rat taking on the role of a sympathetic friend. 

"I believe it would greatly benefit...", his voice suddenly became distant and muffled like a cry carried in the wind.Her gaze fixated on the man's movements of his mouth, no sound spilled.

Pursuing a newly widowed? The imperial family truly have no shame. 

I cannot even fathom how they managed to stay on the throne for so long with such a treacherous legacy. 

Just then, the woman turned her head to look at the full body mirror in the corner of the room. It was such a strange thing to have in the parlor, who could have placed it there? 

Everyone knows the Archduchess is not fond of mirrors. 

It was a rule both followed in high society and inside the estate. 

Why, just why? Is it supposed to be a cruel joke? 

The sound of her heartbeat was loud enough to be heard by anyone as if it were in the midst of an earthquake. The woman tried to hide her trembling hands but it was quickly noticed by the man who glanced towards the direction of the mirror, his lips curled upwards ever so slyly. 

"Has something frightened you, your grace?"

She follows the sound of his footsteps towards the mirror, standing boldly as his reflection. 

"Could the rumors be true?" The man added as he turned to face the glass that felt cold and awkward under his fingertips. 

"...You may leave now, Count Roan." 

She who had remained silent all this time, finally spoke and approached him with an odd expression- it was neither fearful nor concerned but rather as if all life was deprived from her and what remained is a breathing corpse with carved smile.

As the doors closed behind him, the count turned to see the archduchess suddenly standing in front of the mirror through the gap. His eyes widened in shock and confusion, not sure of what he just witnessed. 

Could his eyes be playing tricks on him?

Yes, that must be it. 

There was hardly any light in the room. 

It was simply her shadow reflecting in the mirror. 

There is no other way to explain it, he thought to himself as his confident facade faded away upon entering the carriage and a cold shiver ran down his spine like a slithering snake. 

Those strange rumors surrounding the archduchess, could it all be true? 

"I need to report this to the crown prince," he murmured despite being in an enclosed place as if he feared any information spoken out loud would be heard and stolen but if only Count Roan knew the fate that awaited him. 

If only he knew, once steptting out of the threshold that safety isn't guarantee.

He'd traveled quite a ways to meet the archduchess after she was forced out of Dukedom but any news regarding her would never reach society again. 

Count Roan's disappearance? For all she and the rest of society know, Count Roan was no where near the estate and his carriage was found just outside the capital- near the Crooked Forest. 

Some would say he was involve with shady people, his businesses were quite successful. 

Did he make a deal with the devil? It happened right after the archduke's death, a coincidence?

Perhaps he invoked the wrath of god....

Count Roan was not a good person. 

....but if it were so, then who on this earth is safe? 
*
*
*
"Perhaps I should be grateful for once", she spoke in a low voice that sounded almost like a whispered to the refelction in the mirror but if anyone were to lay eyes upon this scene then the Archduchess would be condemn as a mentally ill woman. 

"Yet again there is no answer," she smiles bitterly. 

To have lost her mind after the death of the Archduke, wouldn't that be newsworthy? 

I am sure the tabloids would be thrilled to learn what Count Roan had discovered. 

The sound of burning wood drew her attention from the mirror. 

The letter she had thrown inside was nothing more than a pile of ashes now and any lingering regrets were gone as well. 

It is a pity, really. 

But Count Roan is no longer my concern.