BTSECP 08

Chapter 8

The entire Wilhelm Castle was drunk with celebration for the wedding.

As the drinking progressed, hidden thoughts started to spill even from the table where the Lord’s aide, Phares, was sitting.

“The Isla family, huh.”

Among them, a knight who had once crossed death’s line with Armin, named Soren, muttered with disbelief.

“…Watch your mouth.”

Phares tried to calm Soren down, but by then, the knights around him had already begun to chime in.

“Don’t you remember how many private soldiers the Marquis of Isla sent to the Imperial capital? And now his daughter is marrying into the Wilhelm Duchy. It’d be a miracle if she’s not a spy.”

“And I hear she was also the famous lover of Walter Kynen in the capital. That bastard must have sent her here to insult the Lord.”

Hearing the knights casually call the Emperor “that bastard” and disparage his name made Phares scowl.

He didn’t even know where to begin to stop them.

Or rather—truth be told—

‘I don’t even want to stop them.’

Yes.

That was probably closer to his honest feelings.

Just like the knights said, she was the daughter of the Marquis of Isla, Walter’s closest ally throughout the previous Emperor’s reign.

And not just that—this woman had such a scandalous reputation with Walter that it had even reached the distant North.

Now, as the duchess, she would meddle in the castle’s affairs and touch its finances. Just thinking about it made Phares’s stomach churn.

“Well, nothing to worry about. Let’s trust the Lord. He’ll know what to do.”

Thankfully, Karl, the oldest knight, offered words of mediation.

Soren replied with a slightly calmer tone.

“True. Our Lord isn’t the kind of man to let her run wild. He’s immune to pretty faces anyway.”

No matter how beautiful she was.

Soren had seen her face too. He couldn’t deny it.

Not just Soren—everyone had seen her face.

Anyone who laid eyes on her, even for a second, could see her beauty.

With ugly faces, you peer long trying to find the reason for the disorder, but with beautiful faces, a glance was enough to be overwhelmed.

She was that kind of woman.

What made her so beautiful?

Was it her wavy curls?

Her small, plump lips?

Her large, round, doll-like eyes?

Whichever it was, her wide-brimmed southern bonnet looked shockingly out of place to the northern people.

Not only because she was so beautiful—but because she looked like the kind of doll-princess you’d only see in storybooks.

Rosy cheeks untouched by the bitter northern wind, shiny pink hair, and bright green eyes like summer foliage.

She was undeniably beautiful—but also hard for the North to embrace.

It was as if all the color stolen by the North’s harsh winds and long nights had found its way into her.

Of course, unlike the dolls in fairytales always smiling kindly, there was something odd in her eyes.

[What do I do now?]

That intense gaze.

The rough, purposeful movements more fit for a knight handling steel.

It had surely stunned the knights watching her—if only for a moment.

But only a moment.

Standing before the priest in the traditional northern bridal veil, she became once again a living doll. Everyone came back to their senses.

The daughter of a sworn enemy.

The lover of a sworn enemy.

Now, they were stuck serving such a woman as their lady.

Well, in any case, without Armin’s permission, she wouldn’t be able to do much in the castle.

If she tried anything foolish, Armin would cut off her pretty head immediately.

Armin was that kind of man.

Rough and mischievous, but with a cold heart.

“Speaking of which, Hannah!”

Suddenly, Soren called out to a woman in a black dress sitting at another table.

The woman slowly turned her head to look at him.

Wherever her icy violet eyes passed, knights coughed awkwardly and turned their heads.

Hannah Vlad.

A long-serving maid in the castle, and a longtime friend of Armin.

“How about making some progress with the Lord? You couldn’t marry him, but you could always give him an heir—”

Thwack.

That’s when it happened.

A knife flew from Hannah’s hand and landed in Soren’s plate with a loud thud.

The table went silent.

But Hannah said nothing. She calmly wiped the grease from her lips with a napkin and looked at Soren.

“Oops. My hand slipped. Would you pick up my knife for me?”

“How could a slip make it land like that…”

Soren muttered as he tried to pull the knife out.

Even with his large frame, it was deeply embedded and hard to remove.

As Soren finally managed to pull it out and stumbled backward, Hannah stood up and walked over.

But instead of helping him up, she snatched the knife back and crouched down before him.

“Don’t speak carelessly about the Lord, Sir Soren. Even if we’re old friends, if you do it again—”

She raised the knife between his legs with a cold gleam in her eye.

“I’ll carve you up myself.”

“……!”

Soren went pale.

Phares gestured to the nearby knights to take him away.

As Soren was dragged off trembling, Phares turned to Hannah.

“Please, don’t be so angry, Miss Hannah. I’ll apologize on his behalf—”

“Apologize on his behalf?”

Hannah let out a scoffing laugh and looked up at him.

“That’s funny. You just sat and let it all happen. Everything they said was no different from insulting the Lord.”

Phares frowned.

He wasn’t upset at being blamed—it was just surprising.

He looked at her violet eyes with a strange expression.

From her words, she sounded like she supported Armin and Diana’s marriage.

But—

‘Didn’t she have feelings for the Lord?’

He asked,

“Everyone in this castle finds this marriage hard to accept. It’s only natural they vent somewhere. We can’t shut down every such conversation. Let me pour you some wine as an apology.”

“No, I’ll pass.”

Hannah held up her hand to refuse.

Sweeping back her black hair, she firmly said,

“I have no intention of getting drunk tonight.”

She wiped the grease off her knife with a napkin.

Even though it was just a carving knife, it glinted ominously.

“Because if that woman does anything foolish to the Lord, I’ll kill her myself.”

“……!”

Phares cleared his throat as he met her menacing eyes.

Definitely not someone who supported the marriage.

Hannah Vlad. No matter how he looked at her, she was… unusual.

He hesitated and said,

“Even so, there’s no way our Lord would fall for such a frail woman—”

“You never know.”

Just then—

“Aaaaaah!”

A scream rang out.

Everyone instinctively looked toward the upper floor.

The scream came from the Lord and Lady’s bedroom.

As Hannah instinctively ran forward, Phares grabbed her wrist.

Phares, though not as skilled as Armin, was trained in aura. He had already drawn his sword.

“I’ll go. I—”

Before he could finish, someone appeared on the stairs.

The knights watched tensely, afraid Diana might have harmed their Lord.

It was Armin.

Seeing the blood on his chest, Hannah bit her lip.

If it had been Armin’s blood, she would’ve run to him immediately.

But it wasn’t.

Diana Wilhelm hung limp in his arms, lips stained red with blood.

Without hesitation, Armin walked toward Hannah.

“My Lord—”

“She was poisoned with Opheor. Get the antidote. Now.”

As Phares struggled to process what Armin had just said, Hannah vanished like lightning to fetch the antidote.

In the meantime, Armin flipped a table, sweeping away dishes and goblets, and laid Diana down.

He muttered to her unconscious face, bloodshot eyes glinting.

“Dying together, huh… What a stupid death that’d be.”

Then he called out softly.

“Phares.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Within a month, find every maid who’s recently entered the castle and bring them to me.”

And then it happened.

Blood trickled from Armin’s lips.

Phares’s eyes widened.

“My Lord…!”

“Bring them back alive. No matter what.”

And with that, Armin collapsed on top of the table.

Even as he lost consciousness, he clutched Diana’s hand tightly.

Their pale hands were still intertwined.