IWMHWD 113

Chapter 113 – Love
2024.02.21

“Oh my. So you’re the famous disciple of Atillei, Vasquez’s daughter.”

“That’s correct.”

“And where are you headed?”

“I’m on my way to Yebo Delim.”

“Is that so? Perfect timing. We’re also bound for the capital. The road is lonely—why don’t we travel together?”

Unlike Cordelia, who spoke in the most formal and curt manner possible, Marquis Ingrion continued with an overflowing friendliness. Cordelia disliked traveling with strangers to begin with, but the fact that it was Marquis Ingrion made her all the more uneasy.

“I appreciate your offer, but my father’s illness has worsened to the point where every moment counts. I don’t think I can spare the time.”

It was a polite yet unmistakable rejection. Still, Marquis Ingrion showed no sign of backing down.

“Is Prince-Elector Vasquez gravely ill?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Then all the more reason to accompany us. If you come with me, you’ll reach Yebo Delim faster than with anyone else.”

Cordelia’s lips twitched faintly. He had already decided on traveling together, regardless of her opinion.

She glanced at Belluce and Gasil. Gasil gave the slightest shake of his head. Belluce’s face remained unreadable, his thoughts hidden.

Cordelia was about to refuse again when Gasil spoke up.

“It is an honor to travel alongside you, my lord Marquis.”

“Haha. I don’t mind company on such a tedious road. Tell me, have you secured a place to stay for tonight?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then stay here. Sir Jans.”

Jans was the old knight who had once been beaten by Noah. At the Marquis’s call, he hurried forward. The Marquis spoke in a genial tone.

“These guests will be accompanying us to Yebo Delim. See to their accommodations.”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll escort them to their rooms.”

“We are grateful for your kindness, my lord Marquis.”

Gasil bowed deeply and respectfully until the very end. Cordelia, however, was annoyed—he had accepted the Marquis’s proposal without even consulting her. But she held her tongue. Though she hadn’t known him long, she could tell Gasil wasn’t the type to act rashly.

The three of them followed Jans to their quarters. Once he was out of sight, Gasil finally spoke.

“The Marquis of Ingrion is a cruel man. Especially to those who oppose him—he shows no mercy.”

“I could tell. I saw how he struck his own son without hesitation, right in front of his retainers.”

“My apologies for agreeing to his terms without your leave. But—”

“Gasil is right. If we had refused, he would have found some way to retaliate. He’s a petty man.”

For once, Belluce sided with Gasil. Cordelia stared at him. Fragments of the childhood memories he had once shared with her surfaced in her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel worried.

“Belluce… are you all right with this?”

“With what?”

“With Marquis Ingrion. Things aren’t exactly warm between you two. And your… brother, as well.”

“Just think of it as a dog barking.”

He answered flatly. Cordelia was uneasy, but since both men who knew the Marquis well agreed, she let it go.

And so, an uninvited companion joined their journey to Yebo Delim.

Three days passed traveling with Marquis Ingrion. Contrary to her expectations, the trip wasn’t as unpleasant as she had feared.

Above all, since the Marquis had shown Cordelia such favor, no one dared treat her or her escorts—Gasil and Belluce—with disrespect. Even Noah Ingrion, whom she had seen on the first day, didn’t dare cross her. He would only glare daggers at Belluce from time to time but never openly disobeyed his father.

“How remarkable. That someone of Vasquez could produce such talent.”

“You flatter me.”

“Haha! I knew Prince-Elector Atillei well—he was a most discerning judge of character. For him to choose you as a disciple, there can be no doubt of your skill.”

As their conversations unfolded, Cordelia realized the reason for his interest. To the Marquis, she was not Cordelia, but simply a political link to Atillei. At first, it weighed on her heavily, but after a few days, she thought it might not be so bad to make use of that favor.

By the third day, she had grown bold enough to accept lodging nearly as fine as the Marquis’s own.

Only two more days remained until they reached Yebo Delim. Cordelia rehearsed in her mind what she would say upon seeing her father again. She wasn’t worried about bursting into tears. No—it was the opposite. She was afraid she might unleash all her resentment at him.

The wound left by her father’s decision—to accept Leonard’s money in exchange for never seeing his daughter again—still cut deeply into her heart.

She wanted to hurl all her hurt back at him. Yet, knowing he might soon be dead, she didn’t want their last meeting to be nothing but a quarrel. Not for his sake—but for hers.

At that moment, a strange sound drifted in through the open window.

At first she thought it might be a wild beast, but then she realized there was a human voice mixed in.

“You… stupid… how many times must I…”

“I’m sorry.”

Among the voices carried by the wind, she distinctly recognized Belluce’s. She had been about to close the window, but instead she leaned closer to listen.

“Hah… someone like you won’t learn with words.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should never have been born in the first place, you insolent wretch. How dare you look at me with those eyes!”

The Marquis’s voice was raised in fury, and Cordelia soon spotted them.

Her gaze went cold. At the same time, heat surged through her head. Belluce was on the ground, beaten like a dog under the Marquis’s blows.

Without hesitation, she burst out of her room, flying down the stairs two at a time until she reached the back courtyard, breathless despite the short distance.

“Marquis… haah… Ingrion.”

“What is it, Lady Vasquez?”

He was utterly composed, as if nothing unusual had happened. If not for the blood clinging to the wooden practice sword in his hand, one might have thought this was just another polite encounter. His demeanor made Cordelia feel sick.

She steadied her breath and hurried to Belluce, who lay crumpled on the ground. Taking his bloodied arm, she helped him up. He looked at her once, blankly, before staggering to his feet.

The Marquis’s brow twitched.

“I wasn’t finished with that.”

“‘That’? A rather harsh way to refer to your son.”

“My son? Hah! Don’t say such things aloud. Someone might hear.”

“Who doesn’t already know that Belluce is your son, the proud blood of Ingrion?”

She didn’t know why she was so furious. With every word she spoke, her teeth clenched tighter. Rage boiled inside her chest, so hot her hands trembled.

The Marquis dropped all pretense of politeness, baring his teeth.

“Watch your tongue. I have never once acknowledged that bastard as Ingrion.”

“Unless Belluce’s mother conceived by divine will, his father is plain for all to see. Denying it doesn’t erase blood.”

“My coupling with that low-born harlot was a mistake—my life’s greatest disgrace! That thing is nothing but filth!”

He spat the words, snorting furiously. The more violently he denied Belluce, the hotter Cordelia’s blood surged. Locking eyes with him, she said:

“If you call him a bastard or filth one more time, I won’t hold myself back.”

“Ha ha ha!”

The Marquis burst into thunderous laughter. His black eyes flashed.

“You won’t hold back? And what exactly can you do, you pathetic Vasquez, from a family that’s already crumbling?”

“Not now, perhaps. But one day, when I become a high mage, when I stand as Seirius of Acheron and take the position of Court Mage—on that day, I will not have forgotten a single insult you hurled at Belluce. And I will repay them all in blood.”

Her voice and her eyes carried an unshakable will. For the first time, the Marquis faltered. He looked between Belluce and Cordelia before speaking again.

“To make yourself my enemy… all for the sake of that? You’re making a foolish choice.”

“Belluce Ingrion is the one who saved my life. Perhaps you don’t understand, Marquis, but there is a duty a person must uphold.”

The Marquis’s face flushed red and pale in turns. It was as good as accusing him of being devoid of honor. With a furious snarl, he hurled aside the wooden sword.

“To cling to the very man who killed his own mother… you truly are Atillei’s disciple.”

Belluce flinched. Cordelia turned to glance at him, then met the Marquis’s eyes once more. And with a radiant smile, she declared:

“Even if he had killed his father, I would still accept him. Marquis.”

“…I’ll make sure you regret those words.”

“Pity. It seems our journey together ends here.”

Cordelia turned her back, gripping Belluce’s injured arm tightly, and led him back inside the inn.

Belluce muttered under his breath, almost like a whisper.

“That was foolish. That old man is vindictive and petty. He’ll find some excuse to—”

“Why were you letting him beat you?”

“…”

“You strangled me and twisted my arm without hesitation. But when it’s that beast of a man, you just lie there and take it? Why?”

The fury she thought had subsided blazed again, burning through her chest like wildfire.

Had it been like Noah’s slap, she wouldn’t have been so angry. But the scene she had just witnessed… Belluce wasn’t treated like a human.

A beast. Or a worm.

Under the Marquis’s practice sword and boots, there was no trace of dignity left in him. And worst of all, Belluce looked far too accustomed to it—accepting it, as though resistance was meaningless. That was what infuriated her the most.