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T/N: Uhm… well this is ‘psycho leading another psycho’ which means we’re in for some wild rides, not that I’m complaining 🤭
E/N: This is getting wilder and wilder!
Chapter 37
“...”
It was a vicious cycle.
Daphne clung to him, unable to respond when he asked. This drove Damian mad with frustration, leading to him shouting at her. Both Daphne, and the fact that he repeatedly made the same mistakes.
“Congratulations. Now you no longer have to forcefully buy gifts for a son who isn’t even related to you by blood.”
Damian’s gaze shifted to Daphne’s flat stomach.
“You’ve gained a steadfast shield for yourself, haven’t you? One to replace me—or rather, one I could never be.”
“...”
Seeing Daphne’s eyes widen in surprise, Damian asked, as if puzzled.
“Wasn’t it because I’m the heir? Weren’t you worried that after I inherited the Duchy, it would somehow disadvantage you?”
“Damian, I never thought that. This is a misunderstanding….”
“I look forward to it. Whether the child you bear will be able to take my place or not.”
“Damian!” Daphne shouted, her face pale.
He watched her trembling, bloodless hand clutching her chemise but his expression remained unchanged. How pitiable she looked, trying so hard to conceal what no longer needed to be hidden.
“Damian, I, the baby….”
It was at that moment, just as she was about to say more.
Gush.
Without warning, red blood soaked Daphne’s chemise.
Damian’s eyes followed the blood, witnessed blood dripping from her mouth.
“...”
Damian’s lips twitched slightly as Daphne’s eyes closed, and her body, having lost its balance, collapsed to the ground.
* * *
“It’s alright.”
Baroness Nuvelle sighed lightly as she rose from her seat.
“…I heard she coughed up blood a few days ago. Is she really alright?”
“The toxins are still lingering in her body. If she rests well, she won’t cough up blood anymore….”
The Baroness looked down at the patient who refused to listen. Her face was even paler than it had been a few days ago. Her frail frame remained unchanged, though the situation had clearly worsened.
“But it’s nothing serious. The poison is slowly leaving her system. Young Lord, please go and rest now. It’s late.”
When the Baroness turned, she saw Damian still standing there. Since the moment she had entered, Damian had stood motionless, watching over Daphne.
“Go rest, alright? I’ll inform Vent to attend to everything.”
Even after the Baroness left, Damian remained rooted to the spot, his feet seemingly glued to the floor. Quietly holding his breath, he focused entirely on Daphne. Her breathing was so faint and shallow, it was enough to spark anxiety.
And yet, at the very moment when he realized he had felt some relief, he straightened his bent back.
‘Medicine?’
Damian noticed a bottle of pills rolling under the bed. He picked it up. Assuming it belonged to Daphne, he was about to place it on the table when—
“Young Lord.”
At the sound of Vent knocking on the door, Damian instinctively slipped the bottle into his pocket.
“Young Lord?”
Though he regretted it, Vent’s persistent call forced him to turn and leave.
“Let’s go. I’ll accompany you to your room.”
“…No, take me to the office.”
Vent followed Damian to the office. Damian handed Vent a box containing a finely crafted magic stone-embedded sword and other items.
“Dispose of them.”
“What?” Vent’s eyes widened.
“All of this? The sword too?”
“Yes.”
“The magic stone as well?”
“Throw it all away.”
Vent gaped at Damian’s stern command.
“Young Lord, but….”
“Vent.”
Damian cut off Vent’s attempt to protest.
“This isn’t a request. It’s an order. Throw it all away.”
“…Understood.” Vent closed his mouth, silenced by Damian’s resolute tone.
“Rest well.”
Once Vent had left, Damian stood in contemplation for a moment before heading to the training grounds instead of his bedroom. He had meant to clear his mind, but found himself at that place again.
“Damian!”
The memory of that fragile body embracing him tightly was still vivid.
‘Disgusting.’
A wave of revulsion stirred inside him, and Damian quickened his pace, eager to pass the place as swiftly as possible.
In the vast training grounds, blanketed in white snow, Damian stood alone. He swung his sword. Again and again. Not in any structured form, but recklessly, letting his body move as the blade led him. Perhaps because of that, his body tired quickly.
Only after his mind was emptied of all thoughts did Damian lower his sword and take a ragged breath. Standing amidst the snow, panting, he propped himself up on his sword and rose to his feet. If he went to his room now, he was certain he could fall asleep immediately without any further thoughts.
As Damian hurried along, he suddenly noticed a small lake, shimmering in the moonlight. The water hadn’t completely frozen over. Thin sheets of ice sparkled atop the surface, and as Damian gazed at it, he pulled a locket from his pocket.
But instead of opening it, he simply stared at it for a moment. The locket held a picture of Daphne. Raising his arm, Damian held the locket high above his head.
“Phew…”
With a shallow sigh, he threw it. The thin ice broke easily with a clear splash. Ripples spread across the surface, and the locket sank, disappearing from view.
‘It’s done. That was it.’
He had completely let go of Daphne. Watching the ripples gradually subside, Damian turned away.
‘It’s done. This is enough. This would have to be enough.’
T/N: Yes, this is enough so please don’t bother Daphne again 🙄
E/N: Yes leave the poor girl alone
* * *
Half-naked dancers sang and danced. The Emperor watched them with satisfaction as he drank.
“Play the music faster!”
At the Emperor’s lively command, the palace musicians felt humiliated to be performing for mere dancers, but they couldn’t defy his order.
As the music sped up, so did the dancers’ movements. Tension mounted as they approached the climax. When the music reached its end, one of the dancers stopped in front of the Emperor. With a broad smile, he reached out to her.
“Come here.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
In a coquettish voice, the dancer sat beside the Emperor.
This was Edward D’Gathe III.
Ertag, the most powerful nation on the continent, boasting a vast army, was founded by a swordsman who had defeated both the celestial and demon races. But the empire had gradually succumbed to human greed, and the glory of its founding days had long since faded.
As a symbol of this decline, over the past century, the once golden hair of the royal family had gradually turned brown, and their once-beautiful golden eyes had dimmed.
The royals desperately clung to their fading brilliance, pouring vast sums of money into maintaining their golden appearances through divine magic. They were obsessed with splendor, coveting those with golden hair or eyes to increase the chances of passing down that brilliance to their offspring.
The Emperors of the past had achieved great feats, but now, only those full of greed and vanity held the throne. The current emperor, Edward, was among the latter.
Lavish banquets were held every night, and countless women passed through his chambers. The palace was overflowing with illegitimate children, many of whom didn’t even receive proper names.
Once again, the Emperor was indulging in a grand feast. As the festivities were at their peak, one of his attendants approached and whispered into his ear.
“Hm, he’s come to see me?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor pondered briefly before gesturing lightly. At his command, all but one dancer who had been refilling his glass quickly left the hall.
“The empire’s brilliant gold greets you.”
“Ah, Sergei. It’s been a while.”
The visitor was none other than Sergei. Though officially, Sergei had taken his aging father’s place in prison, the truth was different.
It was Sergei who had provided the Emperor with evidence of Marquis Bled’s involvement in treason. Having killed his own father to seize the throne, the Emperor felt a deep kinship with Sergei. He reminded him of his own youth, full of ambition and vitality.
“What is it you wish to tell me?”
As Sergei spoke, the Emperor’s face grew increasingly pale. By the time he finished, the Emperor leapt from his seat, his expression hardened.
“Is that true?”
“Yes. It’s said that the monsters turned to ash the moment they came into contact with Duke Winter’s aura.”
“Ash…?”
“I came across something at an auction recently. It’s written in the first volume of <The Chronicles of Memory>.”
<The Chronicles of Memory> was a book recording the deeds of five heroes, written by an unknown author. Though it had been passed down through generations of Emperors, it was lost fifty years ago after an attempted coup that nearly overthrew the nation. Since then, only fragments had occasionally been recovered.
“These are the words of the Great Prophet.”
The Emperor hurriedly snatched the paper Sergei handed him.
“[‘The black ash will burn the palace to the ground, and it will wipe out the royal bloodline.’]…”
Black ash. And the monsters that turned to black ash upon contact with Duke Winter’s aura.
The black ash clearly referred to Duke Winter.
“This... This is outrageous! Arrest Duke Winter for treason at once!”
The Emperor trembled with rage.
That insolent man who always looked down on him was finally going to kill him!
“Your Majesty, please calm yourself. Now is not the time.”
In contrast to the agitated Emperor, Sergei’s voice was calm and soothing.
“Duke Winter has not committed any crimes, and to the people of the empire, he is still a revered hero.”
“Then what do you expect me to do? Wait until he comes to kill me?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
While the Emperor fumed, Sergei remained composed, speaking softly.
“If there’s no crime, we can simply create one. During the upcoming hunting competition, Duke Winter unexpectedly joins. But suddenly, he goes on a rampage, unleashing an aura that turns everything to ash. You, Your Majesty, with great sorrow and tears in your eyes, are forced to behead him to prevent further disaster… How does that sound?”