Chapter 4
[The rising sun has swallowed the night that was setting—
Oh, gods. The night protests!
I have only stepped back for a while from the sun’s light,
So why do you seek to take my life?
I will never forget this humiliation.
I will repay it, surely I will!
So the sun may shine no more!]
The voice was sweet, but the lyrics were anything but. It was a vow of revenge.
“Here, the sun means the Hero, and the night means the Dark Mage.”
Teiti looked straight at me as she said it.
“The Hero, Heros Akion, killed the Dark Mage. As a result, the Hero was cursed. A curse that prevents the Akion line from continuing.”
So the line “so the sun may shine no more” meant that — to kill the children of the Akion family so the Hero’s blood won’t flow on. That made sense up to this point.
But….
“Then why only this body?”
From what Ann and Anna said, it sounded like there were siblings above me. None of them seemed to be sick like I was.
Why, then, was only this body — Daphne — cursed?
“You mean the other children of the Akion family?”
“Yeah. There are other kids, so why did only this one get cursed?”
“Selus… no, Lady Daphne, you entered without knowing anything about your body.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No.”
When I showed a little temper, Teiti got off her chair and knelt properly. If she was going to submit like that I wish she hadn’t teased me in the first place. Elves really do lack tact.
“There are four children of the Hero, including Lady Daphne. First is Lache, second Vifera, third Arius. These three were all adopted. They didn’t inherit the Hero’s blood.”
“Ah. So the only true child of the Hero is only this body?”
“That’s correct.”
So that’s why the curse fell only on this body.
Knowing that made it easier to understand, but it also felt unfair.
Even if a spirit possessed a body, it could at least be a decent one — why would it possess a body that’s cursed and dying?
“Damn that Dark Mage. If you’re going to die, die gracefully — why give a curse like that?”
The Dark Mage was probably dead already, but I grumbled a curse as if to wish him dead again.
“Wait a moment.”
Then, suddenly, a thought flashed through my head.
“So, that means I’m cursed because of the Hero, and I’m going to die because of the Hero?”
“That’s right.”
“And he didn’t even come to visit once?”
I remembered the first day I woke up: the Hero’s cold, cold eyes. A gaze so icy it could have been aimed at a total stranger.
How could he be so indifferent to someone who was going to die because of him? I couldn’t understand it.
“The Hero dislikes you, Lady Daphne, so that’s unavoidable.”
“What? Why?”
Why would he dislike me — the one who’s dying because of him?
“The Hero’s wife died giving birth to you, Lady Daphne.”
“…….”
It was such an absurd reason that for a moment I felt as if I’d gone out of my mind.
“So you’re telling me I was born just because they wanted a child, got unlucky and cursed and now going to die, and they hate me for being born? They hate me because I existed?”
“That’s right. Humans are selfish, after all.”
“Huh?”
What a despicable pair.
Anger flared up to the top of my head.
“Elves.”
“Yes, Lady Daphne?”
“Open the door.”
I sprang off the bed and lifted my chin high.
“Let’s go teach that Hero who’s less than a beast a lesson.”
Heros Akion, the Hero, had his own headache.
It was the regular vassal council — a meeting of the house retainers.
Born as an illegitimate child of the Akion Dukedom, a troublemaker who had spent his childhood on the streets and thrown himself into mercenary work before he could even hold a spoon, he found these aristocratic duties utterly distasteful.
Moreover, the true nobles who had sworn fealty to the Akion house — the retainers — did not recognize Heros as their legitimate lord. He was the product of one drunken mistake by the previous duke.
If Heros hadn’t become the continent’s strongest sword master, if he hadn’t been given the title of Hero by the Emperor, they would never have seated Heros Akion as duke, however lacking an heir they might be.
Therefore the retainers who disliked Heros tried, at every quarterly vassal meeting, to find fault with him, and Heros’ supporters busied themselves defending him from their reproaches.
Today was no different.
“I cannot understand Your Grace’s decision. Even if the harvest was poor, how can you open the granaries to the peasantry?”
“That’s right. Such relief should come from the central government.”
“Since His Majesty has given no special order — I don’t think we should empty our coffers to aid the peasantry.”
Heros, seated in the chair of honor, watched the speakers with his arms crossed. He showed no expression whatsoever. Only the scar running from his right temple down his cheek was strikingly vivid.
Perhaps because of that, the retainers who daunted him all looked slightly cowed as they watched their chance slipping away.
“And what if the people starve to death?”
Using that opening, Marquis Geiron, an ally of Heros, stepped in.
“Half of the Akion territory is rugged mountains. The little farmland left has withered from drought — of course there is no grain. What do you think the peasants will do?”
The Imperial Count, who had hesitated, answered.
“They’ll go into the mountains and eat roots at best.”
“The owner of those mountains are dragons. The moment they go in they will be eaten.”
“Isn’t that their fate, then?”
“Count!”
Geiron’s comment was so outrageous that it made someone leap up and shout, and at that moment Heros’ aide Paulin added his voice.
“They are the people we must protect. Protecting the peasants is the duty of the lord; ruling the domain well is loyalty to Your Grace, isn’t it?”
“Counselor, step back. This is a matter for the vassals to discuss!”
“Oh? Then I shall step back. But I’ll go tell everyone that those vassals are disloyal to Their Grace.”
“Hey now!”
At Paulin’s seemingly taunting tone, the Count ground his teeth.
“We know assistance is to preserve the peasantry — it’s a valid conclusion. But it’s premature now. Didn’t we refuse refugees who lost their homes in an earthquake only half a year ago?”
The Imperial Count turned his gaze to Heros, who still sat expressionless.
“You treat commoners too well, Your Grace. We know you understand their lives because of your humble origins, but you must exercise restraint now.”
They were cutting down Heros for having spent his childhood on the streets because his mother was a commoner.
Heros’ brow twitched slightly.
He uncrossed his arms, put his right hand on the table, and began to tap it with his fingers.
“Not long ago.”
Tap. Tap.
“The Marquis Isaac’s heir held a grand engagement ceremony.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“And that day, the Marquis’ castle was completely burned down. The peasantry could no longer tolerate the Marquis’ extravagance — it was their doing.”
Crack!
There was a sound, and the table where Heros’ fingertips had rested dented inward.
The retainers, who knew Heros to be a powerful man, were still shocked by this display, and Marquis Geiron rubbed his forehead and shook his head.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Heros brushed the splinters of table off his fingers and flashed his blue eyes at the Imperial Count.
“If you want to keep that head of yours on your shoulders for long, you’ll need to make reasonable compromises. As you said, commoners have little patience.”
“…….”
There was only the sound of someone swallowing thick saliva.
The retainers, frightened by Heros’ intensity, averted their eyes and bowed their heads.
“Th-then let’s consider this matter settled…”
The scribe barely managed to mediate.
“A-and, the next agenda item… it’s about the long-vacant position of the duchess…”
Crack!
The table split again.
Oh honestly, what is with him! Paulin frowned and turned to Heros, but Heros looked utterly unconcerned, as if he were ready to smash the entire table to bits.
“Your Grace, perhaps you should—”
Right as Paulin tried to stop him—
KWAANG!
The firmly shut council room door burst open. A very small life came barreling in.
“Hmm?”
Even from afar she was noticeable: blonde hair, light green eyes, and skin so white it was almost bloodless. A child.
“…The noble lady?”
The youngest and only blood relative of the Akion house.
Daphne Akion.
“Heh, heh, Lady Daphne! You can’t just barge in like that… eek!”
An elf who came in behind her pressed himself against the wall, trying to shrink away. Understandably so — the room was full of Akion retainers, and in the center of them all sat Heros Akion.
Even the boldest would feel intimidated in a situation like this.
But—
“Long time no see, Hero.”
She was the youngest. The frailest.
Yet Daphne Akion was not intimidated at all. She actually looked more confident than usual.
“I came to see you.”
Daphne strode to the table, hopped up onto it, neatly straightened her petite legs, and looked down at Heros.
Then—
“Lady!”
Clang!
It happened in an instant. Daphne threw a teacup at Heros.
Heros tilted his head slightly and avoided the cup — but that wasn’t the point.
The important thing was that Daphne Akion, who had never spoken a word against him before, dared to defy him now.
Heros’ eyes narrowed.
“You were born without my permission.”
Daphne took a step forward and spoke slowly toward him.
“You cursed this body because of you.”
Standing right in front of Heros, Daphne fixed him with a glare.
“And you don’t even do your duty as a father. Isn’t that too much?”
Heros’ mouth curved slightly.
“So, what do you want to say? Now you come to blame me?”
“Hero. You are not even worthy of being blamed by me.”
“Then?”
“I’m here to declare war.”
Thud! Daphne pressed the tip of a pen on the table so it hovered, snatched it up, and lunged toward Heros’ face.
“I will not die.”
Splat!
Heros blocked the nib with an inkwell. The smile vanished from his face.
Daphne watched his twisted expression and smiled with satisfaction.
“I will survive, and I will kill you.”
