Chapter 06
‘No!’
I couldn’t let all these people witness Isaac’s hand being severed and falling to the ground. And if the Crown Prince happened to be among them?
That would mean immediate execution!
If the prince grew suspicious and started investigating, it wouldn’t take long before the trail led back to me.
‘Isn’t there some way…?!’
If only I were a more skilled dark mage, I could’ve temporarily strengthened Isaac. After all, he was practically no different from a familiar bound to me right now.
But every time Lev nagged me to practice black magic, I had avoided it. So, of course, I had no idea how to use reinforcement!
‘Lev… looks like this is what I get for ignoring you.’
There was no time to wallow in regret. I quickly sifted through the pitiful repertoire of dark magic I did know, searching for something—anything—I could use.
‘Yes. This one will work!’
I clenched my fist tightly. My nails dug into my palm, sharp pain flaring.
No room for hesitation.
‘Just a little… even a single drop is enough…!’
Crack!
Something wet slicked my fingertips. In my palm, it squirmed faintly as I coaxed it into obedience.
‘Good. That’s it. You can smash that light fixture above, can’t you?’
As if it understood, the thing in my hand stirred eagerly. When I quietly opened my palm, it slid down the leg of the chair and seeped into the ground.
The blood of a dark mage—by itself—was no different from a summoned familiar.
So even for someone as inexperienced as me, bleeding a little and issuing a simple command was possible.
“Lady.”
“Yes?”
I almost flinched but forced myself to remain composed.
“Which side do you think will win?”
“Oh… the sparring match?”
Tristan gave a calm nod. His expression remained as cold as ever, but with my years as a scribe, I could tell—he was quite intrigued.
“Normally, I would bet on Sir Isaac’s victory. But as you know, his condition hasn’t been very good lately.”
“Sir Isaac is usually praised for his strength, but watching this match… it’s not only that.” Tristan’s gaze stayed fixed on Isaac.
“His skill and sense are remarkable. He’s using his opponent’s strength against him, without breaking a sweat himself.”
‘That’s probably because he can’t sweat at all…’
Instead of replying, I smiled and nodded. To everyone watching, aside from Isaac’s precarious wrist, he seemed to hold the upper hand.
Harold was drenched in sweat, struggling to press his attacks, while Isaac coolly deflected them all.
I glanced toward the ceiling.
My blood-borne familiar had already crawled along the wall, now perched near the light fixture.
‘Just a little more…!’
Isaac’s wrist was at its limit. Somehow, I could sense his failing condition too.
“Haah… You do nothing but dodge like a rat.”
Harold wiped sweat from his brow and adjusted his stance.
“This next strike will decide it!”
“No, wait—” Isaac tried to stop him, but Harold ignored the protest.
“Here I come!”
With a roar, Harold lifted his sword high and charged. A reckless move—his form would collapse if it failed. His ultimate gamble.
No matter how Isaac blocked, his wrist wouldn’t survive the strain.
“Haaaah!”
Craaaash!
The deafening impact sent up a thick cloud of dust—unheard of indoors, let alone on a hard training hall floor.
“What the—?!”
“The floor broke! That’s the flooring dust!”
“Who won? Sir Isaac? Or Sir Harold?”
The hall erupted in confusion, everyone trying to guess the outcome. Meanwhile, I quietly exhaled in relief.
‘That was too close.’
As the dust slowly settled, the first figure to emerge was Harold—his face pale as chalk.
“It’s Harold!”
“So Harold won?”
But then Isaac appeared, still standing. The murmurs died instantly.
Clink.
Shards of shattered glass rolled at Isaac’s feet.
The light.
Between Isaac and Harold, the great chandelier lay smashed, debris scattered everywhere. That was what had destroyed the floor.
The thing was massive—big as a grown man’s torso. Falling from that height, it could have killed someone.
“You…”
Harold’s face twisted as he shouted.
“Why did you save me?!”
“……”
“You’re saying I’m not even a threat to you, is that it?!”
His voice cracked with rage. Judging by his position on the floor near the wreckage, he must have realized Isaac had shoved him clear of danger.
“One more time! We’ll fight fair—!”
“I think that’s enough.”
Tristan rose beside me, and silence fell at once. Harold opened his mouth again but quickly shut it, unable to defy the prince.
“It’s fortune no one was injured. Let’s end it here for today. Everyone, dismiss.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Sir Isaac, are you well?”
When Isaac failed to answer, Tristan pressed.
“…Yes. Of course.”
Isaac forced a faint smile. Tristan couldn’t see, but I could—the fine fracture running along his wrist.
Pushing Harold aside must have finished it off.
“Good. Then both of you, to the infirmary. Sir Duque, you’ll take charge of cleaning up.”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
“Your Highness, may I be excused early? I’ll have my personal physician examine me.”
Isaac couldn’t let the imperial medics see his condition. Tristan agreed readily.
“Your complexion is poor. Go and rest.”
“My thanks, Your Highness.”
Isaac bowed, hiding his ruined wrist, and even winked at me as he withdrew. He must have guessed the falling chandelier was my doing.
‘Honestly…’
Why did he always throw himself into danger like that? Of course, I knew the reason—Isaac only ever lost control when his family was insulted.
And the Walker Duchy carried the most glaring flaw of all.
Me. Emily Walker.
By now he should have grown used to it, but Isaac acted as if every slight against me were the very first.
“…Phew.”
I sighed without realizing it. Ahead, Tristan suddenly stopped. Lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed we had wandered into the small garden between the training hall and his office in Juliet Palace.
‘Was my sigh too loud?’
Why else would the Crown Prince stop and turn, his eyes fixed on me? I swallowed hard.
“Lady.”
“Y-Yes?”
“You noticed it as well, didn’t you?”
“…Pardon?”
He rubbed his chin, lowering his gaze. Surrounded by roses in full bloom, his eyes seemed like blossoms themselves.
“The Walker family has always carried God’s blessing. It shouldn’t be surprising. Though Sir Walker didn’t seem aware of it…”
“…Sorry?” I stammered dumbly.
“Yes. That’s why the knights are on such high alert.”
“…I-I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Your Highness.”
“I see you’d rather not be involved. Understandable. But if you truly have the ability to sense traces of black magic—”
“What?”
I forgot myself and gawked openly. He had spoken the forbidden words.
‘Did he find out?’
Was that why he lured me here, to this secluded garden? My pulse spiked. I stumbled back a step—straight into Werner.
“!”
I was surrounded.
Werner chuckled and set a hand on my shoulder.
“Your Highness, you’re frightening her again. I told you—your cold expressions make ladies run away.”
“…I didn’t mean to scare her.” Tristan awkwardly stepped back. Neither of them looked hostile. Not like men confronting the continent’s greatest enemy.
‘So he doesn’t know.’
Relief washed over me.
“Lady, please, don’t hide it. During the duel—you knew that light was going to fall, didn’t you?”
“……”
“You looked up at the ceiling before it did.”
Ah—that moment. I’d only glanced up to check if my plan was working, but he had noticed.
“Lately, we’ve begun to suspect black mages have resumed their activities.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“We’ve been investigating, but it’s difficult. Our tools for detecting black magic are limited and single-use.”
Werner spoke gently, as if soothing a frightened child. Clearly, he thought I was just scared between two men.
“During the incident just now, I tested with one of the devices. It detected traces of black magic!”
‘Of course—it was mine…’
“Which makes me think you must have a natural gift for sensing such energies.”
‘Because I’m a black mage myself…’
“We’d like you to help with our investigation.”
Werner’s eyes gleamed with hope. Tristan, pretending indifference, also watched me carefully.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’
They were asking a dark mage to help them track down dark mages.
‘Well, they wouldn’t know… and it’s better that they don’t.’
I wanted to refuse outright, but that wasn’t realistic. Tracking black magic had nothing to do with the duties of a scribe. It was like asking your clerk to do your child’s school homework. Utterly absurd.
But how many subordinates dared to object to unfair orders? He was still my superior, and I’d have to keep working under him.
‘Keep your enemies close, isn’t that how it goes?’
If they really did know something, it might be safer to stay near and learn what they discovered.
“Of course, you’ll be paid extra for the work.” Tristan added quickly.
…In truth, I had no inheritance rights to the Walker fortune.
“…I’ll do it.”
There was no other choice.
