CHAPTER 69……………
“Who….”
Black hair and red eyes.
And a middle-aged man with a cold expression. His pallor made him look sickly.
Just as Sabina was puzzled—
“Kyah!”
The table was overturned.
Dante hadn’t lifted a finger. His shadow writhed and swelled in size.
In an instant, the restaurant was swallowed in pitch-black darkness.
Kuk, kuk.
The shadow wrapped around Sabina’s neck. She clawed at the invisible grip, but there was nothing to catch hold of.
The thought that she might really die this time drained the color from her face.
“Father. Please calm down.”
Linaria restrained her father.
Not particularly out of concern for Sabina.
‘Father was coughing up blood earlier. If he uses the Divine Beast’s power, his condition will only worsen.’
Dante glanced briefly at the daughter holding his arm and sighed.
“Kh… urgh….”
At the same time, the darkness lifted.
The choking pressure vanished, and Sabina collapsed to her knees, gasping desperately for air.
“Make sure to remember the faces of those who insulted my entire family.”
All they had done was gossip as usual. The young ladies had mocked someone above them in rank, thinking her an easy target.
Now, trembling before Dante, they regretted their loose tongues.
The commotion drew the manager, who approached cautiously.
“Duke Obel. It is an honor to meet you for the first time. I heard you would be visiting on behalf of Lord Brimstone soon.”
The manager adopted a servile tone—nothing good ever came of offending a duke’s household.
“My apologies for the unpleasantness before your meal.”
“You’re not managing your guests very well.”
Dante looked down at the wheezing Sabina. His gaze was identical to Linaria’s—
enough to silence all rumors about her lineage.
“Their mouths reek from the foul words they spew. To suffer such displeasure the moment I step outside after so long… I came here on a recommendation, but I must admit I’m sorely disappointed.”
“I swear nothing like this will happen again.”
The manager signaled the guards.
The guards dragged away the young ladies who had slandered Linaria.
“Let go of me! Let go!”
They were thrown out of the restaurant in disgrace—reeking of sauce, their faces drenched with cold sweat.
“We’ll provide you with a meal so fine that you’ll forget this disturbance. Please, I beg your forgiveness.”
The manager pleaded earnestly.
‘It feels awkward to continue dining here, but…’
Who knew when she’d get another chance to go out with her father.
In the end, the two were escorted to a terrace overlooking the lake.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
Dante wore a grave expression.
“More importantly, I didn’t realize you were being subjected to such humiliation outside. I should have paid more attention.”
“There’s no way you could stop rumors from spreading, Father. And those things must’ve only started circulating recently.”
The scandal with Noah hadn’t hurt her much—after all, she had acted in ways that invited talk from the beginning.
‘Maximilian could never imagine me choosing another man over him.’
That must be why he had suddenly presented her with a tiara.
Hearing rumors that she was wavering between him and Duke Ignas would make his head spin.
‘Not that Noah and I are really like that.’
It was obvious from Noah’s behavior.
He followed Linaria like a chick trailing its mother.
The world was still unfamiliar to him, so he saw her as his guardian.
‘Still, if the rumors grow too wild, they’ll hurt Noah as well. It’s not like we’re actually going to marry.’
Ultimately, it was just one of the cards she held to choke Maximilian with.
The wise choice was to smother the scandal before it went too far.
“Most of it is nonsense, but some of it has a grain of truth.”
“…You don’t mean Duke Ignas, do you?”
Dante’s voice trembled slightly.
“No. Of course not. The duke and I are just friends.”
She shook her head firmly.
And then she thought of her mother—whom she only ever heard about through others.
Linaria had examined every scrap of her mother’s writings and belongings.
None of them mentioned her. Perhaps her mother had put the pen down after conceiving… but still.
‘He said I was able to contract with the Divine Beast of Time thanks to my mother.’
Kaath had been subjected to imperial experiments involving multiple contracts.
Noah had been forced to consume a Divine Beast, driven by his parents’ wish for him to wield the patriarch’s power.
Linaria, on the other hand, had been born already bound to the Divine Beast of Time.
According to Magnus, this was the result of her mother’s “experiment.”
Which meant—
“Mother hated me.”
“…”
“When someone insults you or Father, of course I get angry. But when they say Mother never loved me…”
She couldn’t refute it.
“How could your mother hate you? Who told you that? Was it Lady Meril…?”
“No. The Tower Master. He said I have this power because of my mother.”
Dante froze.
“He said she experimented. That must’ve been when I was still in the womb.”
Her birthday was also the day her mother had died, so no other explanation made sense.
“Maybe I’m just imagining things. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t understand what she was thinking. What did she really feel toward me?”
She had even visited the room her mother had lived in since childhood.
Even retracing her footsteps, her mother still felt like a stranger.
She had been a woman of boundless scholarly passion—enough, perhaps, to use her own child as a test subject.
“So I thought maybe she disliked me, or felt nothing at all. And I was born in winter, wasn’t I?”
Linaria lowered her gaze.
Only one scene came to mind.
“It must have been so cold.”
At the moment of death, had her mother cursed her?
A chill crept up her spine.
“Liri. That’s not true at all.”
Dante, unable to hide the heaviness in his heart, grasped his daughter’s hand tightly.
Linaria lifted her head.
“Your mother had been researching that power long before we married.”
“…”
“She never intended to give it to you. When you were born, she was as shocked as anyone.”
“Then she wanted that power for herself?”
“If only. Then we might have seen each other again. But I think she was reaching for something even greater.”
“So even you don’t know for sure, Father.”
“Husband and wife don’t always know everything about each other.”
Magnus’s absurd guess—that her mother’s goal was world domination—flashed through her mind.
“Liri, I know you imagine the worst about her. But when she learned you were inside her, she was truly overjoyed.”
Even now, closing his eyes, Dante could see her radiant smile.
“Dante. What should I do?”
“Why? What is it?”
He could still picture her covering her mouth in shock, as if it were yesterday.
At the time, Dante had rushed to her side in a panic, fearing the worst.
“The baby kicked.”
“What?”
“It’s moving inside me! My goodness!”
“…”
“Did you feel that? It kicked me again!”
Margaret had seized his hand and placed it on her belly.
Thump, thump.
Dante too had felt the tiny proof of life.
He couldn’t remember what expression he had made then—whether he laughed, cried, or simply stood there like a fool.
Only that when their eyes met, Margaret’s lashes curved like a crescent moon.
“When she felt your first kick…”
“…Oh no. I think I’ve fallen in love with this child.”
“She fell in love with you.”
“…”
“Did you know she chose your name? She thought it sounded like the most beautiful flower she knew.”
To Dante, that had been such a tender reason.
And from that love, a precious child was born and had grown into the girl before him now.
“You asked if she was cold that winter? She was too busy worrying about you to feel the cold.”
“…”
“That day, we promised to protect you. I may have failed at that, but at least know this—”
Dante gazed at his daughter with deep affection.
“Linaria. I—and your mother as well—have always loved you.”
“…I feel the same way.”
Linaria felt her mother’s once-foggy image becoming a little clearer.
“On your next birthday, let’s go greet her together. You’ve always been sad I went alone, haven’t you?”
“…I thought it wasn’t a place I was allowed to go.”
“Of course not. She would be overjoyed to see how beautifully you’ve grown.”
Dante turned his head.
“The weather is wonderful today.”
Sunlight shimmered across the rippling surface of the lake.
“Your next birthday will be just as clear.”
“…”
“I remember the weather on every one of your birthdays. So believe me—it will be.”
“Yes. Let’s go together.”
Linaria nodded.
“But Father, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
At her next words, Dante’s smile faded.
“Until that promised day comes, I’m going to leave your side for a while.”
