All Chapters of No Longer Your Puppet, Duke : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

The journey felt as if it had stripped away all warmth. Weeks spent crossing a raging sea were followed by an endless climb through fog-shrouded mountains.At last, it culminated in a vast expanse of white. Snow covered every corner of the Northern territory, glinting softly under the dim, cold morning sun.Roselyn peeked her head out from the velvet-lined window of the carriage. The moment the gap opened, her breath instantly condensed into a thin mist that quickly dissolved in the freezing air.Rows of pine trees cloaked in white mantles stood neatly along the driveway, bringing a long-awaited silence."We're finally here," Roselyn murmured softly, her voice nearly swallowed by the creak of the carriage wheels against the packed snow.Beside her, Kaelus reached for Roselyn’s gloved hand. He squeezed it tightly, bringing a sense of calm before the carriage door was opened by an esquire.Once the footstep was lowered, Kaelus stepped down first and turned back to assist his wife. His s

Mornings in the Northern territory arrived with a breath-freezing frost. At the Grand Duke’s estate courtyard, hustle and bustle had been creeping in since dawn.The hurried footsteps of servants echoed across the hardened earth as they arranged dozens of neatly carved ice lanterns to welcome the approaching festival.Roselyn sat gracefully at the corner of the wooden veranda. A thick, fur-lined cloak wrapped around her body, protecting her from the constant gusts of cold wind.Her slender fingers moved diligently, occasionally signing supply manifests presented by the estate clerk. Her keen eyes carefully examined the details of every provision, ignoring the cold that slowly nipped at her fingertips.The door behind her creaked softly as it was pushed open. Kaelus emerged, clad in warm attire typical of the northern lands—a heavy, sharply tailored coat that accentuated his broad shoulders. Over one of his arms, a thick wool scarf in dark gray lay folded."Come with me," Kaelus said s

The day of the festival arrived sooner than Roselyn had expected.Since the break of dawn, the estate’s square had been packed with locals who had traveled in droves from the outermost villages. Each carried a paper lantern and a basket filled with dried rebloom petals to scatter along the main road.Roselyn stood on the veranda, watching the sea of people slowly fill every corner of the square. The snow that had fallen since last night still clung lightly to the rooftops, providing a white backdrop for the colorful lanterns that were being lit one by one."It’s so crowded," she murmured softly."Told you so, didn't I?" Kaelus stood beside her. A thick, dark blue cloak rested neatly on his shoulders, making the Valthorne crest on his chest gleam even brighter. "Just wait until tonight. This entire valley will be filled with light.""The whole grand duchy looks bright, Kael.""Indeed. Because stars are rarely visible in the cloudy Northern sky, these lanterns look like a sea of golden

There are two kinds of weapons that can bring a duke to his knees: a sharp sword, and a woman's tears.Aira had mastered the second weapon ever since she learned how to survive and resolved to leave behind her impoverished life as a farm servant.At that time, the D'Arest estate still felt quiet and cold, even though several days had passed since Roselyn and Kaelus returned to the North.Derrick sat alone in the dim study, a folder containing surveillance reports from the palace guards lying untouched on the mahogany desk since dawn.Ever since the news of the green-eyed servant’s death reached him through the gatekeeper's lips, Derrick's mind had been spinning endlessly like a tangled thread.The door of the study seemed to seal him off from the rest of the world, trapping him in an eternity of quiet guilt. Every shadow cast by the flickering chandelier felt like a silent accusation, reminding him of the choices that had led to this desolate isolation. He didn't even bother trimming

Blood no longer splattered on the seventh lash. There was only a thick, dark red liquid slowly seeping from the torn skin, pooling over the dried wounds of previous strikes.The screams had vanished as well—replaced by short, raspy groans, as if the man's throat had given up long before his body completely broke.The stone floor of the dungeon was cold and damp. The pungent stench of blood mixed with the torch smoke that danced wildly on the walls.In the center of the room, a man hung with both hands bound by iron chains above his head. His once-intact back was now a mangled mess of red flesh extending from his shoulders to his waist. In several places, his skin was peeling away, exposing muscle that twitched weakly every time he drew a breath.