Chapter 8
The pen in Isabel’s hand slipped and rolled across the floor.
Did I hear that right? Or is he just talking nonsense…?
“W–wait. Did you just say you’ve been married thirty-six times?”
“That’s right.”
Isabel’s head whipped toward the magic stone that revealed the truth. It was utterly still—so still it almost felt silent.
That shouldn’t be silent…
“But the Celesio Empire doesn’t allow polygamy, right?”
“Of course, I’ve only had one official marriage. The rest were all unofficial.”
For some reason, Hybert, using Adolf’s body, laughed heartily, clearly proud of himself.
“Isn’t that just… cheating?”
“Watch your words. They’re all my wives. Every single one of them was someone I loved.”
Yeah… the rest of the world calls that cheating.
Swallowing back the words that had risen to her throat, Isabel rubbed her throbbing forehead.
A Casanova ghost with thirty-six wives.
It wasn’t going to be easy from the start.
“Doesn’t your first wife feel hurt about that?”
“…”
Her casual question was met with unexpected silence.
Puzzled, she looked up and saw Hybert with his lips pressed tightly shut. Sensing the sudden shadow over his face, Isabel narrowed her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Exactly what don’t you remember?”
“I don’t remember any ‘first wife.’”
So… the others were “beloved wives,” but the first was just “some wife”?
“Then… do you remember the others?”
“Of course. My second wife was Jessie, third was Amanda, fourth was Wendy, and—”
“Okay, okay! I get it.”
Isabel reached out and clamped a hand over his mouth before he could rattle off the entire list.
So, in short, he only doesn’t remember the first wife’s name?
From the look on his face, it wasn’t just the name—he didn’t seem to remember her at all.
Another guess: even without the memories, the way he called her “some wife” suggested their relationship had been bad.
This definitely needs investigating.
[Hybert’s first wife — Investigation required ★★★★★]
“Do you at least remember where you lived?”
“…No. I think I just wandered from place to place.”
It sounded uncertain, but since the magic stone stayed quiet, it probably wasn’t a lie.
Seems like there’s a memory problem from the possession process. Better note this down too.
[Memory impairment during possession process — Seems unaware he has possessed another’s body.]
“By the way, how long do I have to stay tied up answering your questions like this?”
Hybert rattled his shackles impatiently, clearly tired of the game. The metal clinking against the bedpost sounded cold.
“Well, I do still have questions to ask—”
“You can ask later. My wrists are starting to hurt.”
It wasn’t just whining; the skin beneath the shackles was red and irritated.
Guess I’ll stop here for today.
Dawn was nearly breaking. Isabel turned away from the window, grabbed the key from the bedside table, and said:
“Promise me one thing first. No doing anything weird.”
She fit the key into the lock as she spoke.
“Promise. Now hurry up—my skin feels raw.”
“Yes, yes.”
Click.
The shackles came off. Hybert sat up, rubbing his wrists with a grimace.
“Let me see your wrists.”
Isabel gently took his hand and opened the ointment she’d prepared, generously applying it to the raw skin.
“Are you trying to seduce me right now?”
“Not a chance.”
“So strict.”
He grumbled but, thankfully, didn’t try anything inappropriate.
“There. By tomorrow, they’ll be fine. It’s a really good ointment.”
“First you hurt me, then you heal me. Still, thanks.”
“If you cooperate next time, I won’t have to tie you up.”
Smiling faintly, Isabel gathered her things and stood.
“Leaving already?”
“Yes. It’s late.”
“You still owe me something, you know.”
Hybert’s lips curved in a sly grin.
“…Owe you?”
“My wish. That was the deal, remember?”
“…Right.”
Damn. She had completely forgotten.
With that dangerous look in his eyes, Isabel felt a flicker of caution.
She reached for the glass bottle of chicken blood, but he spoke again.
“First, tell me your name.”
Her grip on the bottle loosened. Slowly, Isabel pulled her hand back and blinked.
“…My name?”
“Yes. Your name.”
“That’s all you want?”
“I still have two more wishes left, so it’s fine.”
It was only her name, but for some reason she felt tense.
Clearing her throat, she murmured:
“It’s Isabel Door Herpfelder.”
“Isabel. Pretty name.”
He repeated it several times, his lips curling into a charming smile. Watching him, Isabel pressed a hand to her chest.
For some reason, she was grateful Adolf’s personality was awful—if he’d looked like this and had a good nature, her heart might’ve given out already.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. So, what’s your next wish?”
This time she was ready to grab a book if he said anything strange, but his answer was even more unexpected.
“I want you to pat my head.”
“…?”
This man was full of surprises today.
“Is that not okay?”
“It’s not that, but… is there a reason?”
“I don’t remember clearly. But I have a faint memory of it feeling nice.”
His expression, softened by the hazy recollection, looked so happy that Isabel couldn’t refuse.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
“Really?”
She nodded firmly.
“Good. Then I’d like you to sit here first.”
“Like this?”
She sat at the bedside, only for Hybert to lay his head in her lap.
“Was the lap pillow part of the deal too?”
“You can handle this much, can’t you?”
Well… it’s not like it would wear her lap out.
With a small sigh, Isabel ran her hand through his hair, which shimmered like scattered gold dust.
Hybert closed his eyes, seeming to savor her touch for a long while.
Neither of them spoke, but oddly enough, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was… relaxing.
After a few short minutes, he sat up with a satisfied yawn.
“That felt great. Maybe because it was your hand?”
“You really do flirt nonstop.”
“It’s just a habit.”
Isabel looked away from his smiling face.
“So, the last wish?”
“As for the last wish…”
Suddenly—
While she was off guard, Hybert grabbed her wrist and pulled her in, wrapping an arm around her waist. Before she knew it, Isabel was on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Shh. Quiet.”
“I’m telling you, let go!”
The more she struggled, the tighter his grip on her wrist became.
Pinning her hands above her head, Hybert took the shackles that had been on him moments ago and fastened them around her wrists.
“Take these off right now!”
Every movement she made was met with the clinking of metal.
“You really should’ve been careful till the end. Still, your naïveté was kind of cute.”
Hybert tugged his long cravat loose.
…Damn ghost. He tricked me!
If it weren’t for the shackles, she’d have slapped that smug face already.
Meanwhile, he began unbuttoning his shirt—one by one, revealing pale skin and a firm chest.
“That’s kind of embarrassing when you look at me like that.”
“What the hell are you doing?!”
His teasing made her squeeze her eyes shut and turn away.
But no matter how tightly she closed them, the image of his well-built chest stayed burned in her mind.
“Isabel. Look at me.”
His voice, usually so cold, softened as it brushed her ear.
Maybe because he was undressed, the faint scent of grass that lingered around him now wrapped around her like a heavy fog.
The moment that strong, intoxicating scent reached her nose—
Isabel gasped and snapped her eyes open… only to freeze again.
It was like staring at a bed of exquisite flowers.
His crimson eyes—mesmerizing from the very first moment she saw them—looked like roses blooming on thorn-covered branches. The gleam in them sparkled like morning dew in the dim light of dawn.
…It feels like I’m being pulled in.
The longer their eyes locked, the more her toes went numb and her mind grew hazy.
“Isabel. You need to breathe.”
His words pulled her back into the sunlight.
“Haa…!”
Her gray eyes trembled as she exhaled shakily.
Her chest rose and fell sharply with each breath.
Watching her intently, Hybert’s lips curved faintly. His fingers brushed lightly over her ribs just beneath her chest.
