WHFIO 21

Chapter 21

Late at night, in a secluded forest on the outskirts of the capital.

A single carriage arrived at an abandoned mansion hidden deep among the trees.

The door of the carriage opened, and a noble couple stepped out. Both wore elaborate masks that covered their faces, like guests attending a masquerade ball.

They were greeted by men who also wore masks—apparently servants of another noble household.

The butler, wearing a mask himself, bowed politely when he saw the brooch shaped like the letter “J” pinned to the nobleman’s cravat.

“Welcome, Count J. Countess J.”

The guests of this gathering never revealed their true faces, and they addressed each other only by anonymous titles.

Regardless of their real ranks, everyone here was referred to simply as “Count.”

Some secretly knew each other’s identities, but they pretended not to. Most had no idea who anyone else truly was.

Except for one person—the host of the gathering.

“This way, please.”

Count and Countess J—actually the Lord and Lady of House Lort—followed the masked butler into the mansion.

The interior was a complete contrast to the desolate exterior—brilliantly decorated with gemstones and gold, so lavish it was hard to believe it was the same building.

The butler led them into a dining hall.

When the doors opened, they saw others seated around a long dining table, their faces also hidden behind ornate masks.

But there was no food, not even a single glass of drink—only candlesticks flickering on the long, empty table.

The sight of masked figures sitting silently around the light made for an eerie, almost chilling scene.

At the center of the table sat a man wearing a plain white mask.

Behind that mask, a pair of red eyes gleamed—eyes that only members of the Imperial bloodline were born with, those who possessed immense mana from birth.

And in the current empire, there was only one man with red eyes.

Cedric Rüssel de Hartwig.

The Crown Prince who had been born with overwhelming magical power.

Cedric’s crimson eyes narrowed pleasantly as he smiled beneath the mask.

“Welcome, Count J.”

Beside him sat a woman also wearing a white mask—the one known to all as the Priestess, Cedric’s co-leader and spiritual figurehead of this secret society.

The Lorts bowed respectfully to the Crown Prince before taking their assigned seats.

A short while later, when every seat was filled, Cedric began to speak.

“Thank you all for attending.”

“We are the ones grateful, Your Highness, for granting us such an honor.”

One of the nobles near him flattered eagerly, and the others echoed the same words like parrots.

Cedric waited patiently until their sycophantic chorus died down before continuing.

“The reason I gathered you all here tonight… is to deliver joyous news.”

“Joyous news, Your Highness?”

“At long last—after all your tireless efforts—He has been resurrected.”

A collective gasp rippled through the hall.

Then, someone cautiously asked,

“But… where is He now?”

“His strength is not yet whole,” Cedric explained. “He could not attend in person. But He has expressed His gratitude for your devotion—and He will once again need your assistance…”

The “assistance” he spoke of referred to opening a dimensional rift.

Their god, the Demon Lord, was a being from another realm. He could not recover his power through the mana of this world.

To restore his strength, they needed to open a gate to allow the mana of another dimension to flow into this one.

“I will do it, Your Highness! Please entrust this task to me!”

“I can handle it! Allow me, Your Highness!”

Everyone in the room rushed to volunteer, each eager to gain favor and prestige by serving the Crown Prince.

Countess Lort nudged her husband sharply.

“Tell them about the sacrifice.”

To open a rift between worlds, a living sacrifice was required.

But since such an act bordered on heinous crime, finding such a sacrifice was difficult. Few would have one prepared in advance.

Count Lort immediately played his trump card.

“Your Highness, please entrust the task to me. I have already prepared the sacrifice.”

The room fell silent.

Then, the Priestess—who had been quietly observing—spoke.

“This matter must be handled swiftly. I recommend entrusting it to Count J.”

As the one who served the Demon Lord most devoutly, the Priestess effectively held the real authority in the organization.

Even the Crown Prince often deferred to her judgment.

Cedric nodded in agreement.

“Very well. Count J, the task is yours.”

Behind his mask, Count Lort’s lips curled into a triumphant smile.

“However,” Cedric added sharply, “the recent incident has drawn the temple’s attention. Be cautious not to arouse further suspicion.”

Two men in the crowd flinched and averted their eyes—the very ones responsible for the last failed ritual.

Count Lort straightened proudly. “I will not disappoint you, Your Highness.”

The meeting was nearing its end when something made the Priestess stiffen.

A chill ran down her spine—someone was watching.

She turned toward the window behind her.

Beyond the glass, only darkness filled the forest outside. The branches swayed softly in the wind—nothing more.

Cedric glanced at her. “What’s wrong? Do you sense something?”

“…No. It’s nothing.”

He soon lost interest and looked away, but the Priestess continued to gaze outside for a moment longer before turning back.

Had she looked just a little longer, she might have seen him—

A shadowy figure perched on the mansion’s rooftop, silver hair fluttering in the night wind.

He wore a mask identical to Cedric’s.

And behind that mask gleamed brilliant violet eyes.

The man lingered for a few seconds—then vanished in a shimmer of magic.

“Ugh…”

The next morning, Elseth groaned in pain as she woke up, every muscle aching.

I really overdid it yesterday.

Even though she had come straight home to rest, this body—weak and frail from a lifetime of nobility and idleness—wasn’t built for battle.

After pushing it through several rounds of body enhancement magic and intense fighting, it would’ve been strange not to hurt all over.

But I can’t just lie around.

With the Demon Lord’s power slowly regaining strength, she had no time to waste.

Forcing her heavy body to move, Elseth got ready and went down to the dining hall.

Mrs. Mars had just finished preparing breakfast—a modest single-serving meal, simpler than when the butler had been around.

“Did you rest well, my lady?”

“Yes. Good morning. Where’s Lenny?”

Just then, the door opened and Lenny came in, carrying a basket full of letters.

“You’re awake, my lady?”

“Mm. Are those today’s letters?”

“Yes, they are! It’s amazing—people still haven’t gotten tired of writing.”

Elseth stared at the pile of letters.

According to Lenny, ever since her engagement to the Duke of Rittenhaus, letters had flooded in every day without fail.

Her fiancé, Tezet, was not only a duke but also one of the Crown Prince’s closest allies—so everyone was desperate to curry favor with his future wife.

Once I’ve saved up enough money, I’ll have to visit House Rittenhaus myself.

For now, no one knew she was working with the guild, but it wouldn’t stay secret forever.

When that happens, I’ll be mocked for being a “noble lady doing filthy guild work,” and the Crown Prince will likely use it as an excuse to push for a marriage between Tezet and the princess instead.

For his sake—and her own—ending the engagement quickly was the best option.

“What shall I do with these, my lady?”

“Burn everything that isn’t from the Imperial Family.”

Elseth answered casually as she began to eat.

At that moment, a loud grumble came from Lenny’s stomach. Her face flushed bright red.

“S-sorry, my lady! I’ll step out for a moment—”

Elseth stopped her with a gesture.

“Why don’t the three of us eat together from now on? It’s not like anyone else lives here.”

“W-what?”

Both Lenny and Mrs. Mars stared wide-eyed.

Servants usually waited silently while their masters dined, eating only afterward with whatever leftovers remained.

For nobles, being the first to eat the best food was a matter of authority.

And the original Elseth—though only a viscount’s daughter—had been every bit the proud aristocrat, quick to anger if anyone overstepped.

Yet here she was, voluntarily discarding that privilege.

Mrs. Mars, after a moment of shock, shook her head firmly.

“That wouldn’t be proper, my lady. You are the head of this house and our mistress. We couldn’t possibly—”

“If a family’s dignity depends on starving a hungry maid, then it’s a pretty pathetic family, don’t you think?”

Her calm but sharp words silenced both women.

“And besides… I don’t like eating alone.”

Elseth’s mind drifted back to her past life—those lonely nights eating cup noodles in a convenience store because she couldn’t stand dining with relatives who despised her.

Even now, the image of those cold, empty streets outside the glass window remained etched in her memory.

“Go on, bring plates and cutlery,” she said softly.