77. Strip Him Bare, Down to His Underwear
“A-agh…”
As soon as the Lucky Buff’s effect wore off, that strange tension that had been coiled between me and Kaien vanished as if it had never existed.
He instinctively staggered back after I struck his vital spot.
Not missing the chance, I shot to my feet and quickly put distance between us.
“Master, wasn’t that a bit too rough? I almost lost the ability to have kids forever!”
“Are you seriously talking about kids right now? Guess it’s not hurting enough yet.”
“I—I’m sorry.”
The moment I raised my foot again, he straightened up obediently.
‘Honestly…’
My chest was still heaving, refusing to calm down.
I had even gone through the trouble of preparing a weapon for Kaien, but now I didn’t feel like giving it to him at all.
Wouldn’t I just be handing a sword to someone who was always waiting for a chance to climb over me?
When I glared at him in silence, Kaien tried to soften the mood with a sheepish grin.
“I was only joking, really.”
“Yeah, right.”
“But I really went through a lot to get this, you know…”
When I didn’t budge, he reluctantly pulled out a sparkling glass vial from inside his robes.
“Still, I behaved myself this time. Don’t hate me too much, okay?”
After a restless night, the long-awaited morning finally came.
It was the day Icart returned to the Academy.
The duke’s household staff had been busy since dawn. Watching the grand hall fill with flowers and decorations, I too was struck by the reality of parting.
‘So the day really came, after all.’
For a moment, I thought his departure might be delayed because of the carriage repairs, but luckily they had just barely finished in time.
‘Well, carriages were never really an obstacle in the first place.’
In my previous life, not once had carriage problems kept Icart from returning to the Academy.
I expected he’d leave smoothly this time too, but now that the moment had truly come, a wave of restlessness welled up inside me.
‘Icart’s presence has been such a comfort all this time…’
Perhaps to express the feelings of everyone in the household, a small farewell gathering was held after lunch.
At his request, there was no grand banquet; instead, the servants gathered to quietly share their goodbyes.
“It feels too soon, young master. You were barely here.”
“When will you return to us once you’re gone?”
“We all chipped in to prepare this for you. It’s not much, but please accept it.”
“….”
Icart blinked in surprise as he received a palm-sized gift box.
Inside was a simple quill pen and ink.
“Since you always devote yourself to your studies, we hope you’ll achieve great success.”
The pen, slim and neatly trimmed, wasn’t luxurious but designed purely for practicality.
It was a modest gift by noble standards, but their sincerity in wishing him well was beyond doubt.
‘Maybe I should’ve prepared something too.’
I had asked Kaien to get me the antidote to the love potion, but Count Vermon had been unusually quiet.
The previous day he had simply gone back home, and even today, when Icart was leaving, there was no word from him.
‘Did the potion’s effects already wear off?’
The potion had wildly different durations depending on the person, so perhaps it had already faded.
Maybe my antidote wouldn’t even be needed.
“You’ve all made me feel undeservingly cared for. Don’t worry too much—I’ll come visit whenever I get the chance. Take care of your health.”
“Young master…”
The servants wiped away tears at Icart’s kind words.
My own nose prickled, but Seraphine beside me beat me to sniffing back tears.
“This is so moving. The servants’ devotion to the young master is beautiful.”
With damp eyes, she turned to me.
“Lady Roselia, you won’t leave my side, will you? Please tell me you won’t.”
“I don’t think I’ll be leaving any time soon.”
I forced a laugh.
‘Who would’ve thought she’d practically live here every day?’
Seraphine naturally joined in the farewell, clapping along with the others.
She came to our house so often that even Icart, who had been annoyed at first, seemed to have given up.
“Young master, it’s time to depart.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
Icart rose without hesitation.
Philip and his attendants followed.
As his luggage was loaded onto the carriage and the moment of departure arrived, Icart looked steadily at me.
“Roselia, take good care of yourself.”
“You too, brother. Stay healthy always.”
“I’ll send letters from time to time. Write me back.”
“Yes, I promise I will.”
“If anything happens, tell me first.”
“Of course. Don’t worry.”
Even after his triple reminder, he still didn’t look reassured.
With a signal to Philip, he had him hand me a small jewel box.
“I’ve made some preparations, but… there’s no guarantee another intruder won’t show up. Always keep this necklace on you.”
“What is it?”
He placed in my hand a necklace with a blue gem.
“If your life is ever in danger, it’ll send me a signal instantly. I won’t rest easy unless I leave this with you.”
“Ah…”
My neck, fingers, and wrists were already weighed down with all sorts of magical trinkets, but how could I refuse when he was leaving?
“Thank you, brother. I’ll treasure it.”
“Good. And that crow—did you kill it?”
Flinch.
Far from killing it, I had been rolling around with it last night.
“I watched it for a few days and let it go. It was just a lost crow. Killing it seemed cruel.”
“You’re too soft. No matter how small a beast, never drop your guard. If something feels off, don’t give it the slightest chance.”
“Yes, yes…”
Still dissatisfied, Icart gave me a long, lingering look before sighing and boarding the carriage.
“Farewell, then.”
“Safe travels, brother. Please write when you arrive.”
Just as the carriage door was about to close—
“Wait, my angel!”
Someone came stumbling toward us from afar.
“…Count Vermon?”
By now, I could recognize him even from a silhouette.
But unlike before, his usually slicked-back hair was in disarray, and his glittering accessories were nowhere to be seen.
He had barely managed to throw on some outdoor clothes, mismatched and careless.
“Driver, go. Now.”
Icart’s expression hardened.
The coachman was about to snap the reins when Vermon beat him to it.
“Kyaaah!”
He threw himself in front of the carriage, making a maid scream in terror.
Dust rose where he landed.
“Neighhh!”
The startled horses reared, and waiting coachmen rushed to calm them. Icart jumped down at once.
“What in the world are you doing?!”
“Please, please—just give me a moment!”
Despite nearly getting himself killed, Count Vermon refused to move from the carriage’s path.
Instead, he clung to Icart’s trousers.
“At first, I only wanted to make you mine. To tame you, keep you by my side forever. But I’ve realized something now.”
“…What?”
“That stopping my angel’s flight isn’t true love. To truly love, I must submit and follow your choice.”
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
Icart tried to shake him off with a kick, but even as Vermon was struck, he only clung tighter.
“Please, take me with you! I poured every last magic stone I owned into repairing this carriage for your sake!”
“What?”
Icart glanced at Philip, who immediately looked away.
“I offered weapons, artifacts, anything you desired—no conditions. Because that’s how I can prove my devotion and love!”
“….”
Vermon wrapped himself even tighter around Icart’s legs, as if saying he would gladly be kicked away again and again.
It was less like a man in love and more like a fanatic from some twisted cult.
“Philip. Explain. Now.”
“Eek.”
A terrifying aura radiated from Icart.
Philip shrank back, then forced a groveling smile.
“Well, you see, young master… we’d had trouble securing magic stones for the repairs. I tried various ways, but since you weren’t cooperating—”
“….”
“I mean, the situation was difficult. But the schedule had to be kept, right? Then I remembered Count Vermon’s mansion. If he had magic stones large enough to embed in a sofa, surely he’d have plenty to spare for a carriage…”
Philip’s voice trailed off.
Icart’s killing intent only grew sharper—until finally,
Shrrk.
“Any last words?”
The glint of his drawn sword was aimed at Philip.
“S-So-Small Lord! Please, wait a second!”
“I’m done listening. You brought this perverted stalker here for a handful of stones?!”
“C-Count Vermon may be a perverted stalker, but if you’re going to reject him, at least strip him bare first! He’s offering all his stones, weapons, artifacts, even business rights to the ducal house! How can we possibly turn that down? If Vermon’s going to play the fool, we should bleed him dry—down to his underwear!”
XD
I can’t say I disagree with Philip’s instincts here. Vermon/t/d would have a much harder time making other people suffer without his wealth.