ISMFB 18

 CHAPTER 18

“What’s wrong with her all of a sudden?”

Startled, Magnus also forgot the argument and turned to look at Linaria.

In the short time he hadn’t seen her, the healthy color had drained from Linaria’s face. That wasn’t something that could happen without a chronic illness.

In fact, Dante seemed to know what was happening. But instead of explaining, he simply held his daughter tightly.

“No. Not yet.”

It was as if Dante had lost his grip on reason, mumbling to himself.

His hand was trembling faintly.

“Ah, it hu—…”

It hurts so much. It feels like my heart is burning.

The words she couldn’t finish hovered on her lips.

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’ll be alright. Everything will be okay.”

Dante repeated the words over and over again, more like a hypnotic chant to himself than an attempt to soothe Linaria.

“Move! Let me examine her condition!”

Magnus’s urgent cry and the warmth of being desperately embraced—

Those things all seemed to grow distant.

Linaria’s gasping breath slowed, her vision blurred, and then her eyes closed.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Linaria had collapsed and lost consciousness.

Magnus, staring at Dante who was clutching her limp body, asked in disbelief.

“I told you already.”

A shadow connecting them pooled on the floor like a vast puddle.

A darkness thicker than any shadow writhed and crept up from Linaria’s ankles, slowly climbing upward.

The darkness enveloped her like it was consuming her.

It was Obell’s Divine Beast.

“I told you there was no need to be involved in Obell’s affairs anymore. You cannot heal me.”

Dante spoke, his gaze fixed on Linaria.

Only when the darkness had covered about half her body did Linaria’s breathing stabilize.

But Dante didn’t look relieved. A faint unease remained on his face.

“So you concluded it was incurable simply because it wasn’t a disease to begin with.”

“…”

“Logically, it makes no sense to survive by using a Divine Beast awakening agent.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes.

“Just as it makes no sense that a direct heir of Obell failed to form a contract with a Divine Beast.”

In that case, the logical conclusion was simple.

Linaria must have been contracted with a Divine Beast from the beginning—just not one of darkness.

“Now that I’ve seen this, I’m sure of it. You’re hiding something from this child.”

Only then did Dante tear his gaze from Linaria and look at Magnus.

His eyes were defensive, as any parent would be when protecting their child.

He looked like someone ready to give up his life for her without hesitation.

“Or more precisely, you’re hiding the truth to protect her.”

“It was a promise I made with my wife.”

Dante, now having used an enormous amount of Divine Beast power, responded with difficulty.

For a head of house to be this drained from using Divine Beast power was no trivial matter.

Especially not in a place saturated with awakening agents that amplify such abilities.

It meant the strain he was under wasn’t ordinary, which could only mean one thing—

“Margaret… She really succeeded in the end.”

Dante had vaguely referred to it as a “promise,” hoping Magnus would never learn the full truth.

But for Magnus, that was answer enough.

“You summoned the seventh Divine Beast and contracted it with your daughter.”

“You’re awake.”

The first thing Linaria saw as she opened her eyes was the familiar face of a young man.

“You haven’t fully recovered. Lie down a bit longer.”

It was Magnus.

Her foggy mind snapped into clarity.

Instead of lying back down, she suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Where’s my father?”

“Your condition is a mess, and you’re asking about your father?”

“You promised to examine him.”

Despite having just come back from the brink of death, Linaria stubbornly insisted on checking on her father first.

Magnus felt both pity and a bit of frustration—how was he supposed to explain the situation?

If it had been a disease, he could explain it easily. But Dante’s condition wasn’t caused by illness.

Unsure of how to begin, Magnus kept his mouth tightly shut.

The heavy silence only deepened Linaria’s sense of dread.

‘No way.’

Was it that serious? Serious enough that even the Tower Lord didn’t know what to say?

Linaria’s mind went completely blank.

“Do you need a mermaid?”

“A mermaid?”

“In Benjamin Klude’s Encyclopedia of Nonhuman Races, there’s no mention of using mermaid regeneration. But mermaids possess strong regenerative powers.”

It was something she had learned by chance, back when she was once accused of attempting to kill a Rusalka.

The fear that her father might have a terminal illness made her blurt out whatever knowledge she had.

“People say nonhumans are lowly creatures cursed by Divine Beasts, but who knows? Their blood, their scales—or even parts of their body—might serve as medicine…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You—”

Magnus cut her off, his face gone pale.

“Don’t tell me… Have you come into contact with the Leviathan family?”

He asked urgently, a look of fear etched into his face—an emotion Linaria had never seen from him before.

She slowly mouthed the name that was oddly familiar.

Leviathan.

Like Obell, one of the Empire’s five ducal families.

Known for their contract with the Water Divine Beast—and the maternal family of Crown Prince Maximilian.

“The Leviathan family?”

Why was he bringing up the Empress’s family when she had been talking about mermaids?

But Magnus wasn’t in a state to indulge her confusion. He grabbed her shoulders firmly.

“Then have you ever met a mermaid? Tell me the truth.”

“…No. I only mentioned something I’d heard in passing.”

“Heard? From whom? Even if you don’t remember exactly, give me something.”

Magnus pressed with relentless intensity.

When Linaria’s expression turned flustered, he seemed to regain his senses.

“I got carried away.”

He released her shoulders and slumped into a seat, defeated.

“I can’t say who I heard it from. But it’s reliable information.”

“Alright. I believe you. I’ve also heard about mermaids. So has the author of that book.”

“Then why didn’t he revise the book?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

Magnus’s voice lowered.

“You think you’re the only one with that idea?”

A race with extraordinary regenerative powers.

There would be no shortage of humans wanting to use them like medicinal ingredients.

“Immortality… That’s a fantasy humans have coveted since ancient times. But don’t get any foolish ideas.”

“Tower Lord. My father’s life is at stake.”

“Even without that, your father can recover just fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I don’t play games with people’s lives.”

“Then why did you hesitate? You could have said so right away. Is it because the treatment is difficult?”

“No. The treatment is simple. But the real problem… is you.”

“…Me?”

She stared, eyes wide.

What did he mean, she was the real problem?

“Linaria.”

Magnus looked at her with a grave expression, one no child could return.

“You must’ve died in some incident… and come back from the future to the past.”

“What are you talking about?”

Linaria struggled not to react.

If Magnus hadn’t continued speaking, she might have been able to keep her composure.

“How many times have you returned?”

It wasn’t a question meant to test her.

Magnus was stating it as a fact.

Meanwhile, at that same time…

Deep within the Imperial Palace, in the Empress’s private studio, a place few were allowed to enter.

The room was filled with the distinct scent of oil paints.

The silence was broken by the polite knock of a lady-in-waiting.

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince has arrived.”

“Let him in.”

The Empress set down her brush and wiped her paint-stained hands.

When she entered the drawing room, she was greeted by her son, who looked clearly annoyed.

Was it the smell of paint on her that bothered him? Maximilian’s brow twitched.

“You called for me, Mother.”

“Maximilian. My son.”

The Empress, cold and regal, called him in a voice just as icy.

Dark blue-black hair and cool aquamarine eyes.

Maximilian resembled her almost exactly.

Perhaps because of that, even though their auras differed, it was obvious he was her child.

“You met with the Obell daughter recently, yet you’ve said nothing about it.”

“…There wasn’t much to say.”

“Is that really so?”

“Yes. Truly.”

At the mention of Linaria, Maximilian straightened his posture, tension rippling down his spine.

The memory of having made a fool of himself after failing to recognize her came rushing back.

“Then meet with her again. You may find a very different impression the second time.”

“Mother. She humiliated me in public.”

“You call returning a gift ‘humiliation’? You’re still quite childish.”

The Empress didn’t even blink. Maximilian scowled at being treated like a child.

“Why did you even accept the marriage proposal? She doesn’t even have a personal seal—she’s a cripple in noble society!”

In the Empire, contractors had two types of seals: the Great Seal for heads of house and heirs, and the Lesser Seal for all other nobles.

“She’s still useful. Just because she hasn’t formed a Divine Beast contract doesn’t mean the Obell name has disappeared.”

Though Obell’s position among the five ducal houses had fallen due to Dante’s illness and other recent misfortunes, it remained the house whose foundation was tied to the Divine Beasts.

“Besides, there are no other suitable noble daughters to pair with you. You said she wasn’t impressive—was she unattractive?”

“That’s…”

He was momentarily lost for words.