~Chapter 73~
Around the same time—
Even in the palace, famous for working late into the night, everyone was asleep. Only one place still had its candles burning: the office of the First Prince, Leonie.
Knock knock.
“Your Highness Leonie.”
“Come in.”
Adjusting his glasses, Leonie spoke to the servant outside.
After receiving permission, the servant entered quickly and delivered his urgent report.
“Prince Leonard’s movements are suspicious. Our informant saw men who appear to be his private soldiers waiting in front of the portal to the Western Prince’s palace.”
“Leonard?”
Leonie looked puzzled.
The servant, sounding more worried, continued.
“Since it’s confirmed he’s raising private soldiers, wouldn’t that be a threat to us?”
But Leonie didn’t seem very disturbed.
“Well, we expected they’d all be raising them. We are too.”
Everyone knew it, but they didn’t bring it up—doing so would only risk losing the private troops they had raised themselves.
“Your Highness, but…”
“That’s enough. Don’t think too much about it.”
The servant, slightly relieved, went on with his report.
“However, the portal was clearly activated, so it seems he intends to do something at the Maledictus mansion… might this be a threat later?”
“Threat?”
The famously cold and expressionless Leonie chuckled unexpectedly.
“Leonard made the worst choice of his life today. Far from being a threat, his forces will only shrink.”
“…What?”
The servant was confused by the unexpected answer.
“Unfortunately for him, those ten men will die tonight.”
In front of the bewildered servant, Leonie remembered something buried deep in his heart—
When he was young, he sometimes played tag and cops-and-robbers with a cousin, only to see that cousin suddenly chosen as the Maledictus and locked away.
He’d felt relief that it wasn’t him, but also guilt that kept him awake all night.
A year later, unable to bear the guilt, he visited Damien—only to see him lose control and go berserk.
Leonie closed his eyes, recalling the sight of a mere twelve-year-old throwing grown men and roaring like a beast.
“I’ll say it again. The Maledictus isn’t human.”
To him, the Maledictus was someone burdened with inhuman pain until they became a beast.
The assassins who arrived at the Maledictus mansion via portal moved quietly, just as trained.
Normally, the portal was only for the Maledictus, the Benedict royals, and their spouses, but Leonard smeared a small amount of his magic on them so they could pass.
This allowed them to enter the back garden of the mansion without issue.
“Capture the target as soon as you find her,” the leader ordered.
“Her arms and legs aren’t needed. His Highness said as long as she’s breathing, it’s fine.”
The assassins nodded without reaction—they’d killed and seen death countless times.
“Move out.”
They split up to enter the mansion.
Though it was a grand noble’s estate, the inner locks past the main gate were easy for trained assassins to break.
Four entered through the back door, melting into the darkness, ready to kill any servant or person they met.
But—
Crunch.
They froze at the strange sound.
Crunch, munch… The sound grew closer.
“What are you guys?”
A blond boy appeared, holding a whole jar of cookies, munching loudly.
“No one told me we had guests—”
Before he could finish, a blade was thrust into his chest.
Cold, merciless.
“Move.”
The assassin stepped past the boy—
Thud.
He felt something warm running down his neck. Blood dripped to the floor.
“Huh?”
He realized something was stuck in his head—a shiny silver utensil.
“Hey. You outsiders sure are rude.”
The boy with a sword in his chest walked toward them, unfazed.
“AAAAAAAH!”
The remaining two assassins screamed and ran.
“That thing—he was dead!”
“I don’t know, just run!”
They thought to regroup with another team, but as the boy’s laughter faded behind them, they tried to steady themselves.
“What… what did we just see?”
“Were they really dead?”
It was confusing—seasoned killers like them, afraid of a child.
But they shook it off and focused on the mission.
“Let’s move.”
They followed the hallway, but something was wrong. No matter how they turned, they kept ending up in the same hallway.
Even entering different doors led them back to the same place.
They passed the same eerie lady’s portrait for the third time.
“Damn it, what’s wrong with this mansion?”
Then—
“Aaaargh!”
Crunch.
A teammate was bitten by the lady from the portrait, her teeth sinking in.
The last assassin panicked and ran.
Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.
Had their master sent them into hell itself?
Was the Maledictus truly cursed?
Is this real?
He soon found the other assassins—
One chased by a dangerous-looking blond girl with wild eyes and a silver knife.
One tied up, surrounded by hundreds of dolls with twisted faces, holding scissors, needles, and saws.
One drooling in front of a ghostly woman with hair covering her face.
One laughing madly and hitting his own head.
It was hell.
Click.
The sound of heels echoed behind him.
A woman’s heels.
He saw the shoes neatly lined before him.
“When guests come in through the back door, how rude. If you came in the front, you’d be treated properly.”
Looking up, his eyes went wide—
It was their target, Rubiana Maledictus.
The cursed noblewoman said to have eaten her own mother at birth, her whole family, and sold to the cursed Grand Duke.
The assassin lunged at her with his blade, joined by another who’d managed to stay sane.
“Just stab her! We can stop the bleeding later!”
If they captured her, they could leave this mad mansion.
But—
“Aim better. Is this your first time swinging a sword?”
Despite her small, frail-looking body, and being rumored to be terminally ill, she avoided their attacks with graceful ease.
No matter how hard they tried, their blades never touched her.
Is this a dream too?
His hands shook.
“You know, no matter how fast you move—”
Her bright red eyes glowed in the dark.
“My curses warn me faster.”
Something black grazed his cheek.
Rubiana held out her hand to empty air, smiling.
“Good job, Ruhi. Good boy. Well done.”
In her arms, the fear he’d been given by Leonard writhed. She had all the fear taken from the other assassins too.
“Good job… you’re so sweet…”
She petted nothing, speaking softly, and he felt pure terror.
She was like a witch—dark and eerie, yet breathtakingly beautiful under the moon, handling things beyond human understanding.
Frozen, sweating, he dropped his sword.
“Damien.”
At her call, the Grand Duke stepped from the shadows—huge, wearing a white, expressionless mask.
“Don’t you think your children are getting hungry?”
He turned his head, then nodded.
“A-ah…”
The assassin cried, knowing his end was near. From behind the mask, black, blood-covered monsters emerged, jaws wide.
“Then—”
For the first time, the cursed mansion’s master spoke.
“Bon appétit.”
With that soft voice, screams filled the mansion.
Amazing group work