BLRP 40

Chapter 40

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“No.”

Fioreantia cut him off without hesitation.

“That’s far too dangerous.”

Of course, she had considered that approach herself, but the risks were far too high to attempt.

For an ordinary person, it might have been manageable—but Desdemona was a sorceress.

And the magic used by the Marcella family originally drew power from the dragon Besamuth.

Fioreantia had never conducted such research herself, but even without formal study, she knew that if the two were of the same category, the higher-level power would clearly be Desdemona’s magic.

‘If anything goes wrong, the one who loses the ability will be me, the Poison Mushroom.’

Fioreantia had to carefully weigh all her options. She could perhaps attempt to induce unconsciousness—but what if it didn’t work?

The more she imagined it, the more her head ached and her chest felt tight, as if she had already failed.

‘Enough… let’s focus on the positive.’

She deliberately pushed away negative thoughts.

‘I’m somewhat used to numbness, paralysis, and losing consciousness. Now I need to focus on the next stage.’

The next step was hallucinations—the third stage.

If she could master it, it would be the most difficult, but also the most important ability.

‘I just wish I had a chance to try it.’

Her heart raced with excitement, convinced she could accomplish anything. But Fioreantia reminded herself that moments like these were when mistakes were easiest to make, and she forced herself to stay cautious.

When Fioreantia withdrew the poisonous smoke, the head maid, who had passed out while standing, opened her eyes.

She still seemed unaware that she had been asleep for about ten minutes.

“Oh… my mind,” the maid muttered, suddenly remembering the task she had forgotten.

“Milady, I have a message from Lord Marcella.”

“From you to me?”

“Yes. He said that after dinner today, you are to come to the main office.”

Fioreantia felt a pang of unease at the sudden summons.

She drew a small, sharp breath inside her mask.

Though she tried to steady herself, the tension ingrained in her body wouldn’t release so easily.

The entire Marcella household could be considered Desdemona’s domain—but this room had always been Fioreantia’s safe space.

From past experience, whenever she was summoned to the main house, it usually meant something unpleasant.

Desdemona would often be in a terrible mood, taking it out by throwing objects or hurling harsh words.

‘At least she doesn’t hit me…’

That hardly felt comforting. Being verbally beaten up was just as exhausting.

The thought of facing her half-sister left Fioreantia already drained. Slowly, she nodded.

“Alright, I understand.”

Still hoping for a hint about the reason, she stopped the maid.

“Do you happen to know why I’ve been called?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, milady. You’ll have to find out yourself when you arrive.”

“I see… I’ll make sure to go without delay.”

The maid nodded absently and left.

Theodore, pretending to be a doll, twisted his lips and asked,

“What do you think it’s about?”

Fioreantia stayed silent.

“I suppose I’ll know when I get there.”

“….”

His voice was quiet, heavy with concern. Theodore gazed at Fioreantia, silently reading the tension around her.

Their relationship had shifted slightly since that day.

She had explained that she had taken him in to use him as a tool—but strangely, he hadn’t minded.

Perhaps he felt relief at being useful, knowing he wouldn’t be abandoned this time.

With that in mind, Theodore treated Fioreantia more comfortably than before. She had lowered her emotional walls on her own.

When the appointed time arrived, it had been a while since she had entered the main house, the last visit being when she stopped by the library.

And perhaps because of that, Fioreantia felt a sudden shock.

“…Oh no.”

She bit her lip, realizing she had forgotten something important.

Everyone working in the main house froze as soon as she appeared.

Their simultaneous stares, a mixture of caution and disdain, felt like sharp arrows piercing her.

‘It’s been a long time since I felt this.’

For a moment, Fioreantia was overwhelmed, unsure where to step.

Living secluded in the annex with Theodore had dulled her awareness of the household’s hostility.

Her mouth felt dry, and though there was no time to hesitate, she couldn’t move forward.

Fortunately, the butler approached.

“Milady, this way. Lord Marcella is waiting.”

“…Alright.”

She forced a wry smile and followed, as the household staff split aside to make room.

It was less courtesy and more avoidance.

‘They still don’t want to touch me,’ she thought.

They treated her like a nuisance or a plague.

‘This place is as unpleasant as ever.’

Despite the disgust, Fioreantia focused on the path ahead and moved forward.

Contrary to her fears, the meeting with Desdemona ended quickly.

When she returned to her room, she carried two new dresses.

Unlike her usual attire, these were moderately elegant, slightly old-fashioned but ornate.

Theodore, who had skipped greeting her, raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the dresses.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a dress, as you can see.”

Fioreantia exhaled deeply, pushing her hair back, then explained why Desdemona had summoned her.

“I’ll be following Desdemona to the Imperial Palace tomorrow. I won’t be back for a few days.”

Before she could explain further, Theodore frowned and asked sharply,

“Suddenly? Why?”

The timing was unusual; the Triumvirate Council was still days away.

“…Ah.”

But he quickly seemed to find a plausible explanation.

“It’s because of the Emperor.”

“…Probably.”

Fioreantia nodded slowly, and Theodore immediately questioned,

“But why take you along?”

On the surface, Fioreantia had no magical ability.

The Marcella family’s sorcery was passed down through the maternal bloodline, requiring inherited talent.

But Fioreantia was illegitimate—born from her father Zerka Marcella’s affair—so technically, she had no connection to the Marcella family.

She couldn’t use a single spell.

‘Even I wouldn’t have gained that ability if I hadn’t read the original text.’

So Theodore’s doubts were understandable.

In truth, Desdemona had her reasons for taking Fioreantia to the palace. Since her magic had been using Fioreantia’s face as a template, there were naturally limitations to consider.