Chapter 87
“Nesser?”
“You mean that gloomy Nesser?”
As the couple looked at each other to figure it out, more clues were given.
“Twenty-seven years old. Small and skinny.”
Then both of them nodded vigorously at the same time.
“That’s right. Gloomy Nesser!”
As the woman clapped her hands, the man responded with confidence.
“If it’s gloomy Nesser, everyone knows him. I vaguely heard he went to the capital. Are you looking for him?”
The couple knows the author of ‘The Stolen Noble Lady’. Walter’s eyes glinted with sharper light.
“Do you know where he lives?”
“Of course. That Nesser is Lady Margaux’s grandson.”
“Margaux?”
“She’s the mother of all Buzams. She serves the Bowar god most closely and is the spiritual pillar of our village.”
Listening quietly, Hermia blinked slowly and looked at Walter. She had never heard the real name of the author of ‘The Stolen Noble Lady’, so she had no idea who Nesser Buzam was.
“Joel.”
Walter whispered, and she let out a belated “Ah!” with a small gasp.
‘Right. We’re on our way to catch that author guy.’
She finally remembered the true goal of their honeymoon.
She had been completely buried under the dense schedule of official visits and school matters, and had forgotten it entirely. The chance to break the curse was finally just around the corner.
The tension she had forgotten began to rise from the tips of her toes. Instinctively, Hermia slid her hand around Walter’s arm to steady her pounding heart.
The solid and dependable feel of his arm calmed her down, and she slowly retraced the conversation.
‘The author’s younger than I expected. And “gloomy” Nesser? That gloomy name is a perfect fit for someone who cast such a gloomy curse.’
And Margaux.
Margaux Buzam…? She had definitely heard that name somewhere.
It wasn’t unfamiliar, but no matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t recall it. Hermia didn’t dwell on it and decided to ask something else.
“Um, does this Nesser person use strange magic or anything? Like putting curses on people…”
Seeing the couple’s faces stiffen strangely, she trailed off. To them, her question probably just sounded like childish curiosity.
“Ah. I mean…”
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
The woman replied with a crooked smile, as if she was used to being treated this way.
“I’m not unaware of the kind of prejudice people have against minorities, but just because we worship a different god doesn’t mean our entire tribe are witches or something.”
“Jane!”
“What? Don’t you remember what the landlord said when we signed the lease? That we shouldn’t draw weird symbols on the floor or light candles and chant spells at night. We always get treated that way, no matter where we go.”
“Enough. I’m really sorry! Ma’am, I apologize! And to you too, Duke!”
Saying his wife was on edge because her due date was near, the man fidgeted in his seat.
To have committed such a discourtesy after being offered these seats, and in front of the very man who could take their lives right here without issue—the one and only Colonel Rockford.
“Was I too kind for my own good?”
As expected, his gaze twisted into something fierce. His cold voice chilled them to the bone.
“W-We should probably leave now…”
“Wait.”
This time, the Duchess stopped the couple who were about to stand. Grabbing her husband’s arm to prevent any mishap, she furrowed her brow and explained.
“It’s not because of prejudice. That Nesser guy left behind talk of curses and ran off first.”
“Hermia, maybe we shouldn’t…”
“Let me finish.”
With just one word, the Duke closed his mouth. Without a moment for surprise, she asked again.
“That Nesser or whatever acted like some kind of god, saying he was going to curse us. Are you really saying that’s impossible?”
The man, half-standing, slowly sat back down. His wife, now regretful, spoke with hesitation.
“Our tribe has had many astrologers over generations. Lady Margaux is revered in that sense too…”
“See? I was right.”
“But that’s more symbolic now. Among our generation, the culture’s almost gone…”
“So you’re saying it does exist?”
“Some elders still believe, but…”
“So is there magic or not?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure there’s none, but that doesn’t mean everyone in our tribe practices it…”
“If you’re going to keep talking in circles, Michael, you can leave.”
Her patience hit its limit, and she finally gave the order to get out.
Startled, the couple looked at the Duke’s blank face. He signaled with his eyes toward the door, and the woman hurriedly waved her hands.
“There is! There is magic! That Nesser guy must’ve dabbled in forbidden magic!”
“You should’ve said so from the start.”
With the answer she wanted, the Duchess returned to her graceful self. The look of someone ready to kick them out just seconds ago had vanished like it was never there.
“Do you want some snacks? Do you like éclairs?”
“Th-Thank you.”
The Duchess held out a basket filled with fancy desserts and smiled brightly as she looked at the Duke.
They said it’s a curse, and he simply accepted it. The two of them gazed at each other with gentle eyes, making it seem like they no longer cared about anyone else around them.
The Bower couple could only wish the train wouldn’t stop anymore and just reach its destination.
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[Under Renovation.]
What is this now? Carriages were lining up to enter, but no one came out to greet them. Instead of a person, a lone stand welcomed the reserved guests.
While Hermia blankly stared at the golden sign set up at the entrance, the hotel manager came running out, a step too late.
“Oh no! I’m truly sorry! A water pipe suddenly burst, and the place is flooded. We won’t be able to operate today.”
Beyond the glass doors, hotel staff were frantically mopping up water pooled on the floor. Judging by the hoods pulled over their raincoats, water seemed to be leaking from the ceiling.
The manager, also in a raincoat, kept bowing with a distressed look.
“We promise to have everything fixed by tomorrow no matter what…”
“Is there another hotel nearby?”
Walter asked the attendant instead of the manager. The attendant took out a map from his coat, studied it carefully, and shook his head.
“This is the only hotel in the city. There are inns, but shall I go check?”
“The Duke, stay at an inn? Absolutely not! Please, let us host you at our home for the night…”
Flustered, the manager waved his hands and rambled. Then Hermia suddenly stepped forward and asked,
“Can your home fit twenty-two people?”
“Huh?”
Excluding the Duke and Duchess, there were twenty attendants, staff, and bodyguards in total. As he looked at them, he quickly changed his response.
“W-Well, there’s a fairly decent inn nearby.”
An inn? Even the hotel near the school where they had stayed just before hadn’t met Walter’s standards. And this wasn’t even a hotel. It was an inn?
He wore a troubled expression and glanced at Hermia. When their eyes met, she gave a small nod as if to say it was fine. It wasn’t ideal, but they had no other choice.
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But the so-called “fairly decent inn” wasn’t a good option either.
“I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked. Guests from the hotel all came here because of the burst pipe.”
“….”
Walter and Hermia had no choice but to head to another inn the owner recommended.
“Oh dear! Just moments ago, we ran out of rooms. What a shame! I can’t kick out the guests already here…”
“….”
Leaving behind the regretful voice, they had to step outside again.
The sun hanging over the western sky was slowly sinking. What a disaster. Walter Rockford, of all people, had nowhere to stay.
He even considered going back to the first inn and offering extra money to persuade a guest to give up their room, when Hermia suddenly walked off somewhere. She was peeking into a dark alley.
“Why are you only looking on the main street? You can find inns in places like this too.”
“Hermia, inns in places like that are…”
She easily silenced his objection with a wave of her hand and boldly kept walking.
“We’re about to end up sleeping on the streets. Does it matter what kind of place it is? Just follow me.”
As the Duke and Duchess stepped into the narrow alley that smelled musty, Tom Canty gave a signal to his men. They drew revolvers from inside their coats and began scanning the surroundings.
In the alley, where only a startled stray cat leapt over a wall and no one else stirred besides the Duke’s party, Hermia shook her head at the excessive caution of the Chameleon unit.
Passing a toppled metal trash can on the ground, they reached the end of the alley. Just as Hermia had guessed, there stood an old inn. The three-story wooden building looked run-down, no matter who saw it.
Walter looked at the front yard where dust and straw were tangled and scattered, then slowly lifted his head. The exterior looked at least a hundred years old. If that wasn’t bad enough, the sign “Night of the Wolf” was especially irritating.
He looked at Hermia, as if asking if she was really okay with this. But her face, as she opened the door and stepped in, showed no hesitation.
“Sir, do you have rooms?”
Hermia asked the old man dozing at the counter. Walter quietly looked around the interior, which was cleaner than it appeared from the outside.
The elderly man, nodding off in an armchair, opened his eyes when she banged on the table.
“Rooms! I asked if you have rooms? There are twenty-two of us!”
