Chapter 99
Does it make sense that the one who cast the curse can’t lift it?
When Walter asked that, the author hesitated for a long time before barely managing a reply. This was only after he’d taken in Walter’s glare, which was enough to make his knees weak just from the look.
“There… there wasn’t anything in the book about how to undo it…”
After saying that, the author actually hid behind his grandmother like a seven-year-old child. Margaux, looking at her immature grandchild with a touch of pity, added an explanation.
“This brat claimed he was researching for his novel and rummaged through the archives. He secretly took a book about forbidden magic. It was a very old book, passed down through our family for generations. The back part was burned.”
She let out sigh after sigh, as if something was boiling inside her, and said the method to lift the curse was probably written in the part lost to the fire.
Her lament about how the book’s damage had led her to be accused of witchcraft, and their house burned down, didn’t even reach Gerald’s ears.
He felt like he’d explode if he didn’t scream right now, so he stormed out into the backyard. But now it was time to calm down and go back. He had to finish listening to the rest of the story.
Gerald collected himself. Hoping desperately that Walter had found a solution by now, he stepped back into Margaux’s cabin, where the air was thick with the scent of incense.
But just like earlier, when he suddenly peeked out over the portrait of the beloved dog, he accidentally let out a sound.
His vision went dark for a second, and standing right in front of the painting, staring down at him, was Walter.
“Your Highness.”
— Ah. I’m caught.
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For Walter, considering all possibilities and preparing for them came as naturally as breathing.
When the enemy launched a surprise attack, when a retreat was unavoidable, when supplies were running low, or when allies were in danger, he always anticipated the worst-case scenarios and came up with backup plans.
As commander, everything had to be within the range of expectation, and this time was no different.
He had blocked off all routes in advance in case the author tried to run. He also brought sedatives in case of strong resistance. If the author denied everything, he planned to drag him away for interrogation. And if things got truly dire, he’d even considered taking the old woman hostage.
But at Margaux’s cabin, which he had visited unexpectedly, he was met by two people who welcomed him as if they had been waiting. They had even prepared tea. None of his predictions matched reality, and for a moment, he was caught off guard.
The possibility of “not being able to lift the curse” had never crossed his mind. And even if it had, there was no backup plan for that.
How should he make a decision to escape this unrealistic situation?
Walter slowly paced around the small drawing room. The glossy wooden walls, coated with pitch, were cluttered with various items, creating a somewhat chaotic atmosphere.
He stopped in front of one wall covered with frames. There were portraits, likely of the old woman’s family, a landscape of a mining village, and bizarre paintings with unidentifiable colors. Among them was a portrait of a puppy.
Unless he had seen it wrong, Gerald had definitely been here.
Lost in thought for a moment, Walter fixed his gaze on the Chihuahua with the pink ribbon and quietly spoke.
“Let’s start over. From the reason you cast the curse.”
When facing a daunting problem, you have to search for hints from the information you already have. Walter asked the question again, but this time in a slightly softer tone.
With Walter’s face turned away, the author replied in a more relaxed voice.
“Um… So, the first volume of The Stolen Noble Lady became a huge hit, and I made way more money than the investment. Of course, the initial cost was covered by Duke Leonard, but he passed away, so the royalties all came to me.”
“And you went ahead and published volume two, which wasn’t even planned.”
“I just wanted to wrap it up with volume two. The female lead, ‘Bell,’ would succeed in getting revenge with the help of the two male leads and marry one of them. A typical ending.”
The author swallowed dryly and then continued, recalling the part where Walter’s expression had stiffened earlier.
“But the publishing company said… um, that it’d be more fun if a villainess appeared. And Count Arnold just happened to have a daughter he brought from outside… I… I was against it at first! It didn’t feel right to make an innocent person the villain…”
“Just get on with it.”
Not seeing Walter’s face was actually more frightening. The author, once again hiding behind his grandmother, spoke cautiously.
“Because of the company’s suggestion, I turned Lady Hermia Vansen into ‘Helen.’ The response was explosive, of course…”
“I wrote this damned brat a letter when I saw that. Told him to give up this nonsense and come home immediately.”
Margaux clicked her tongue and threw in her comment. Even while glaring at her grandson, she wouldn’t let go of his hand, a contradiction that only made Walter more irritated.
Still oblivious to the mood, the author picked up his teacup with the other hand, took a sip of cold tea, and moistened his dry throat.
“Where was I? Oh, right. I think it was after volume two came out that I noticed something wrong with the payments. The amount I was receiving was way too small. But every time I visited the publisher, the place looked more extravagant.”
Nesser Buzam had asked for the exact sales numbers, only to be treated like a paranoid lunatic.
The next day, he was insulted. The day after that, threatened. The final time, he wasn’t even allowed inside and got thrown out at the entrance.
They thought no one would listen to the claims of a member of a minority group, practically a foreigner. Not the police, not the press. That’s why they got away with it.
He ground his teeth once again.
“If my skin color had been like theirs, this ridiculous disaster would never have happened.”
“You were angry enough to look for and use a forbidden curse you barely even knew.”
“Isn’t that obvious? With Duke Leonard gone, how else was I supposed to get revenge on those four?”
When the wanted notice was issued, the note left on the desk was ultimately a warning to the publishing company. The ‘four people’ written there weren’t the characters from the novel, including Walter.
[How dare you treat me like this. I will never forgive you. You will all pay the price. A terrible curse will befall all four of you, so clean your feet and wait for it.]
There was no need to ask who those four people were. They had seen it with their own eyes when the office was raided. There was no way not to know.
Walter lowered his head and once again let out a hollow laugh.
The fact that they had been used as test subjects to practice the curse before casting it on someone else brought about a bitter, empty laugh.
The author, who had casually used a prince and a duke of one nation as practice dolls, added quietly,
“But the Duke’s curse isn’t that bad, right? I put a strong one on those bastards, strong enough to make daily life difficult.”
“So what you did to us is justified?”
“I don’t mean it like that, but the situation made it easy to misunderstand, right? The person who promised me that publishing the novel would be no problem died, and then I got put on the wanted list. In that situation, who else would I suspect? Of course, the grandson.”
That was why he had fled to his hometown, loudly telling everyone not to trust Rockford.
The author had come up with all sorts of absurd excuses to create an escape route for himself.
Walter seriously considered dragging the old man off and ignoring him altogether, even if only for a moment.
At that exact moment, a pale-blue face slowly floated above the frame. He hadn’t been seeing things after all.
There was no time to feel annoyed that Gerald had followed them all the way here. That would come later.
Walter immediately called out to Gerald. His plan was to show them the Prince in his ghostly form and lie that he was dying from the curse.
If they didn’t know how to break the curse, he’d make them find a way.
If they didn’t want to become traitors who had killed royalty, if they didn’t want to see his grandson on the guillotine, they would somehow find a solution.
“Your Highness.”
– Ah. I’ve been caught.
Apparently, Gerald’s voice could be heard by everyone, as the author and Margaux both turned their heads at the same time.
“……?”
Their eyes were filled with a shocking sight: the chihuahua inside the frame, the old dog Max who had crossed the rainbow bridge three years ago, was having a conversation with the Duke.
– I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything. I just thought I’d stop by to see your faces for a bit……
Max, who had been a cherished family member for 14 years, spoke clearly from within the frame.
Margaux’s wrinkled hands trembled violently. Tears, indescribable in their joy, overflowed from her eyes.
“Max……? Is that you, our Prince Max, in there?”
What?
Walter frowned and turned his head.
“W-Who were you just talking to? Don’t tell me the curse is that you can talk to your dead dog?”
The author asked, stunned.
It was only natural he didn’t know what kind of curse had been cast.
‘It shall be fulfilled as instinct guides.’
That was the curse the author had placed.
For reference, the publishing company’s four people were hit with an even stronger curse: ‘In the end, only instinct shall remain.’
For Walter, considering and preparing for all possible scenarios was second nature. Making the best decision in an unexpected situation was almost a specialty.
Chihuahua. Max. Prince. Dead dog.
With lightning-fast reaction, he finished thinking and took a half step back, gesturing toward the frame.
“It seems our Prince Max wanted to see you both, so he came down for a moment.”
– What? What are you talking about……
“This can’t be……. Oh my! Max!”
The old woman collapsed onto the sofa and began sobbing. The author, his eyes now bloodshot, kept calling out ‘Max… Max……’ over and over, desperately.
