ITTRAETML 52

~Chapter 52~

“Uaaaah!”

The powerful stream of water jolted Duke Hendrake awake. He was shocked at the girl who had suddenly appeared, but after all—she was just barely an adult.

She had used magic, yes, but he had never heard of any powerful mage in House Harmelda. It was likely just a lucky fluke.

“Someone I shouldn’t touch? Countess, I don’t even believe you’re really a Countess. How could someone with such a title act this foolish?”

He strode closer with large steps. His eyes turned sharp and cold, his lips still blue from the freezing water.

“Let me return those words to you. You’re the one who touched someone you shouldn’t have, Countess.”

His killing intent made Lovelace instinctively retreat. It was the first time she had felt such pressure directly.

Think! Think!

She tried to find the pattern. She had learned that if she thought strongly enough, magic would appear. So she prayed hard: Let a rock fall on him. Not a big one, just a small one.

Nothing happened. Her face fell.

“Hah, so earlier was just a scroll trick, huh? You really fooled me for a moment, little amateur.”

He swung his bandaged hand toward her.

She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.

But then—a large hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. Her head bumped against a strong, muscular chest.

I know this chest…

Firm, solid muscle, woven like steel.

Larvihan.

“This woman belongs to me.”

The moment he appeared, the moment he touched her—her fear melted away like snow.

How did he always appear the moment she needed him?

“L-Lord Larvihan!”

Duke Hendrake’s body trembled as he stepped back. He remembered too well the last time Larvihan had crushed him.

He wondered—what was the relationship between them? Larvihan said she was “his.” A student? No… the way his hand rested on her neck was nothing like a teacher’s touch.

It was charged with desire.

“Rey, why are you here?” Larvihan asked.

“For revenge.”

“Revenge? Did Hendrake wrong you?”

“Not me—you.”

Larvihan frowned.

“That’s my business. I’ll handle it.”

“I didn’t come here on purpose. I just thought of punishing Duke Hendrake for hurting you, and when I opened my eyes… I was here.”

She glanced nervously at him. Was she being presumptuous? She had expected him to feel touched. Instead, his face darkened.

He didn’t like her interference.

Her heart sank.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“You look upset. Are you still scared because of that bastard?”

He smiled—a sweet smile for her, but terrifying for Hendrake.

Sometimes Larvihan understood her feelings better than she did herself.

She was upset—but not because of Hendrake.

“Not because of him… but because you keep drawing a line between us.”

“Weren’t you the one who started drawing that line first?”

“I’ll handle my own problems.”

It hit her—those were the same words Larvihan had once said to her. Now, standing in his place, she finally understood how he must have felt.

“What are you doing here, Lord Larvihan! Get out of my house at once!” Hendrake tried to shout, though his body shook.

The killing intent Larvihan had calmed now returned, filling the room.

Hendrake’s hand inched toward a bell on the table.

“Rey, wait here. Close your eyes if you can.”

He started toward the Duke, but Lovelace grabbed his sleeve.

“I’ll do it. He hurt me too.”

“Did he hurt you badly?” His voice was suddenly full of worry. A moment ago, he had been so cold.

He cupped her cheek. She knew she should push his hand away—but she couldn’t.

“Look, he’s reaching for the bell!” she cried.

If Hendrake rang it, others would rush in. The situation would spiral out of control. She shoved Larvihan aside and lunged forward, snatching the bell from Hendrake’s hand.

“Stay still, will you?!”

“In my own house? You dare tell me that, intruder?!”

He shouted at her, though he hadn’t dared raise his voice to Larvihan.

She clenched her fist and glared back with fiery spirit. For the first time, Hendrake realized this “little girl” wasn’t so easily dismissed.

He began to gather power, preparing to teleport.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Her sharp eyes locked onto him.

“How… how did you know?”

“I can hear it—the sound of the air trembling around you.”

She herself was surprised at her words. How did she know that?

Larvihan stepped closer. “Rey, don’t dirty your hands with his blood.”

But before he could reach her, she stomped her foot.

The ceiling shook.

A hailstorm of ice rained down onto Hendrake, freezing cold and merciless.

The Duke tried to resist, forming spells with desperate hands, but before he could finish—

Larvihan grabbed the back of his head and slammed him into the floor.

“Stay down until Lovelace’s anger cools.”

Hendrake writhed like a fish on salt, then went still.

“Is… is he dead?”

The hail stopped. Lovelace crouched beside him and poked him.

“No, not dead. Don’t worry. But Rey, how did you do all that?”

“Do what?”

“Teleporting, making rain, dropping hail… I need to know the truth.”

He stood and held out his hand to her.

“We need to talk, Rey.”

“About magic? You know more than me. I only borrow your power.”

“This isn’t my power, Rey.”

“What? Of course it is.”

He smiled faintly, clearly not believing her.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet. We need to talk seriously—about us.”

What did he mean? Did he want all his power back? Was he hinting their relationship would change?

“Stop thinking,” he said.

He suddenly lifted her by the waist.

“W-what about Duke Hendrake? We can’t just leave him. He might die from shock!”

Larvihan didn’t understand. She was so angry at Hendrake, yet she didn’t want him dead.

Their eyes met—his saying leave him, hers saying we can’t.

In the end, Larvihan yielded. He shook the fallen bell hard. Soon, footsteps rushed down the corridor.

“There. Now we can go.”

He wrapped her in his arms. For teleportation, they had to be this close.

And before she could think further, they were already at Larvihan’s mansion.