Chapter 30 

The source of the dense, boundless black magic that even the archdemon Baal occasionally found chilling.

Among all the bloodlines of House Hellen throughout history, Isabella bore the strongest trace of Nezar’s blood. But it wasn’t entirely a blessing.

Unlike Nezar, who had been a half-demon, Isabella was fully human. No matter how thick her bloodline, she lacked the capacity to fully contain such immense magical power.

As a result, she lived a precarious life, burdened with unstable energy like carrying a time bomb that could explode at any moment. Because their souls were bound by a blood pact, Baal knew this better than anyone. And so, he was always anxious, always worried for her.

‘Still, perhaps it’s a stroke of luck that she ended up here.’

Though it didn’t sit particularly well with him, the ducal house inherited the power of the spirits. At the very least, it might serve as a form of restraint, an emergency failsafe in case anything went wrong.

Just then. 

“Oh, right!”

While Baal was still gathering his thoughts and tidying up, Isabella, who had been wrapping a bandage around her ankle, suddenly spoke up as if she had just remembered something.

“Baal, this might be a strange question, but… are there any fragments of Infernus’s Tear that have a sweet scent?”

The scent and the dark magic she’d sensed when she parted ways with Diana. She had only a vague suspicion, nothing certain, so she waited anxiously for Baal’s response.

“A sweet scent, hmm? Now that you mention it, I think there was one.”

“R-Really? Do you happen to know what color it was?”

“If I recall correctly, it was red. Why do you ask? Don’t tell me… you’ve seen it somewhere?”

With every answer, Isabella’s pupils widened.

Even before Baal could finish speaking, she jumped to her feet.

“This is bad! I have to get to the Marquisate of Cherville right now!”

“Eh? What are you talking about all of a sudden?! With that injured leg, where do you think you’re going?!”

Startled by her sudden limp toward the door, Baal quickly stepped in to block her path and shouted. Isabella clutched his sleeve, her voice laced with urgency.

“The necklace! The necklace that Lady Cherville was wearing… it might be embedded with a fragment of Infernus’s Tear!”

Something had seemed off.

Even beyond the scent and the dark magic, Diana’s pallor, like someone who hadn’t slept in days, and her edgy demeanor, like a wounded wild animal, had been troubling.

Among nobles, it was common to mask one’s pain with a smile in public. But Diana had looked completely unguarded, unstable to the point of being unable to compose herself.

If a fragment of Infernus’s Tear was to blame, then everything made sense.

Just then, Baal gently patted the back of Isabella’s hand with his front paw and spoke in a calm voice.

“I understand the situation now. And I know exactly what kind of fragment of that cursed artifact we’re dealing with, so please, calm down.”

“You know what kind it is? Really?!”

“Yes, of course I do.”

Baal steadied Isabella’s shoulders and gently guided her back onto the sofa. Kneeling before her, he helped her put on her slippers as he continued.

“The fragment you saw is definitely one imbued with the power of phantasm.”

“Phantasm?”

“Yes. It manipulates dreams.”

“Dreams… so it’s a mental-type attack. Then it triggers nightmares?”

“That would explain Lady Cherville’s condition.”

Isabella murmured as she pieced it together. Hearing her mutter, Baal looked up and met her eyes, offering a small correction.

“But it doesn’t necessarily cause nightmares. It might show the happiest moments of a person’s life, making them unable to wake up from the dream.”

“I see… hmm…”

Isabella fell silent, Diana’s exhausted face rising in her mind.

‘I wonder which one it is for her… I hope it’s a happy dream rather than a nightmare.’

But the thought lasted only a second before crumbling.

‘What am I even thinking? What good would that do?’

A nightmare was torment in its own right, and even a happy dream would be painful in its own way. Waking up from such a sweet illusion would only make reality feel like a nightmare.

“But Baal, no matter what, it’s still a cursed object. One way or another, it will harm a human body. That’s why…”

“Miss.”

Baal abruptly cut her off, calling her firmly. Then he continued.

“Yes, of course it’ll be harmful. But it’s not dangerous enough to drag your injured leg out over it right now.”

“Even so…”

“That fragment isn’t like the first one. It doesn’t have that kind of lethal power. So if you want to seal it, you should at least recover first.”

“What if something goes wrong in the meantime?”

“That won’t happen. But if it does, I’ll step in and help you directly. So please rest. You know better than anyone that worrying about others is a luxury you can only afford when you take care of yourself first.”

“…Okay. You’re right.”

Isabella finally raised the white flag in the face of Baal’s firm refusal to let her go.

* * *

Following that day, Isabella stayed at the ducal house for four full days of uninterrupted rest, just as Baal wished. Because she’d stubbornly pretended her sprained ankle was fine and pushed herself too hard, her recovery was slower than expected.

The only consolation was that there wasn’t a single boring hour during those four days.

The reason? Countless members of the ducal household, starting with Flenn and the three maids, showered her with overwhelming kindness. Chef Hans, determined to figure out her tastes once and for all, served her a parade of dishes.

Head butler Cellios even brought her a wheelchair and gave her a full tour of the estate, explaining the family’s history and the mansion’s layout in detail. As a result, she quickly became acquainted with servants she had only glimpsed from afar.

It was all a bit much for Isabella, pleasant, but also somewhat uncomfortable.

One day, while strolling through the garden with her now-healed ankle, she turned to Flenn and asked cautiously,

“Um, Mrs. Peterson… are people in the ducal house always this kind?”

“…What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just… I’m really nothing more than a guest. But everyone’s been treating me so generously that I’m honestly kind of shocked.”

She fidgeted with the parasol in her hands.

What had been weighing on her mind for the past couple of days was a message that arrived two days ago for her and the ducal house.

Her parents, who had recently come up to the capital, were returning urgently. Reports had come in that wild monsters from Hides Mountains were beginning to cross the mountain range in increasing numbers.

Normally, she should have returned to the estate with them to assist with the subjugation efforts. But Edwin had sent a personal letter to Cedric, requesting that the ducal house look after her for a while longer.

No doubt it was meant as a gesture of care for a daughter who was curious about the outside world. But Isabella was at a loss.

‘He could’ve at least talked to me about it first…’

No matter how curious she was about the world outside, Isabella couldn’t help worrying about the affairs of the household she’d left behind. On top of that, there was no telling how long she’d be imposing on the duke’s family. The uncertainty made her feel self-conscious for no real reason.

Perhaps Flenn had picked up on her unease, fully aware of Isabella’s circumstances.

With a soft smile, she asked, “Heh. Is that how it seemed to you?”

“Mm, yes. I haven’t visited other noble houses before, so I’m not entirely sure what’s normal, but… I don’t think most go this far, do they?”

The care she received felt almost excessive.

The servants’ attentiveness, treating her like an honored guest, felt awkward for someone who had lived her life freely and independently.

But Flenn seemed to see things differently.

“Well, I don’t think you need to feel burdened. But if it still makes you uncomfortable, then please think of it as us being overly eager to entertain a long-awaited guest.”

Her gentle words, meant to ease her discomfort, only made Isabella feel more sheepish. Her fingers gripped her parasol more tightly.

Watching her closely, Flenn thought to herself. 

‘She really is someone without a trace of greed.’

There was a reason why the ducal household rarely welcomed outsiders.

It stemmed from the disgraceful behavior of nobles who had visited in the past. 

The young duke’s power, military merit, wealth, and striking appearance were irresistible to many of them even though the very position he held was steeped in bloodshed and a dark past.

So-called distant relatives, people no one had ever heard of, emerged from nowhere, making absurd claims and coveting the estate. Some went so far as to shove their daughters into the duke’s bedchamber in desperate attempts to secure influence.

When young ladies vying for the vacant position of duchess finally crossed the line by invading Cedric’s private life, that incident occurred.

Flenn recalled the past as her eyes took in the rear garden, which she had entered alongside Isabella for their walk. 

Flowers bloomed in full among the snow-white rose bushes. Statice, cineraria, pansies, wisteria, all in shades of violet, filled the garden with fresh, vibrant color.

In a duchy known for its somber grounds, where only greenery was allowed to flourish, this was the only place where color had taken root. At the heart of this violet garden stood Isabella, serene beneath a black parasol.

‘It’s incredible. Even seeing it with my own eyes, I still can’t believe it.’

This garden was a forbidden space, off-limits even to the Emperor.

It had been Cedric’s first personal project after ascending to the dukedom, his only sanctuary.

Among the household staff, it was known as the Garden of Death.

No one dared even pass near it. All because of the incident.

One evening, a noblewoman who had learned that Cedric often took late-night walks here had snuck in. Enchanted by the sight of him, she’d dropped the lantern she was holding.

The brittle early-winter air caught flame in an instant, and the garden was consumed. From that day on, the young woman was never seen in the capital again.

Flenn could never forget the reaction of the typically stoic young duke as he stood before the devastated garden.

How he had howled, like a beast caught in a storm, driven into a frenzy.

No one ever learned why Cedric had lost control that night. And ever since, no one had been allowed to set foot in the garden.

That was why Flenn couldn’t hide her astonishment.

The fact that Isabella was standing there unharmed could only mean one thing: Cedric had silently given his permission.

……

T/N: Cedric was like, ‘Everything for my future wife’ hahaha 😚