Chapter 31
“You shall become the most beautiful being in the world, yet spend your life unable to see yourself, trembling in unease, and die that way.”
That was the curse Leopold cast upon the House of Balian.
Simon, the former Duke of Balian and Ash’s father, thought he would finally meet his death the day Leopold appeared on the snowy mountain. Simon knew he had no chance in a fight since he wasn’t a holy knight.
But even so, he armed himself with the resolve to fall in battle rather than cower, raising his sword as he watched for the hundreds of monsters and deranged black mages that Leopold might bring forth.
Yet Leopold summoned not a single follower, not a single monster. He merely stood there, murmuring in that eerie voice:
“You shall become the most beautiful being in the world, yet spend your life unable to see yourself, trembling in unease, and die that way.”
It wasn’t a curse that melted one’s body, or burned them alive, or twisted their form into something monstrous.
Leopold, branded cruel and wicked, whispered instead something that seemed almost like a blessing to the Balian family, who had funded the holy knights and cared for wanderers with nowhere to go.
He spoke those words, killed no one, and departed. That was all—shockingly so.
But once Leopold vanished, Simon was seized with dread. He could not interpret the meaning of the curse.
To become the most beautiful being? To be unable to see oneself and tremble until death? Simon reassured his family and kin as best as he could, repeating to himself that no matter how he died, he would not regret standing against Leopold.
Days later, the curse revealed itself.
After Leopold’s appearance, monsters began to show up more frequently.
Though handling them was not overly difficult, Simon’s younger sister, Vivian, was injured during one such attack. The wound wasn’t severe, but that night something strange happened to her body.
White scales grew over her wound, her hair lengthened, and she grew ever more beautiful. So beautiful that everyone gasped just looking at her.
Simon knew instinctively this was the curse, but he couldn’t understand why Leopold would inflict such a thing. Vivian was dazzling, almost blessed. Yet days later, she took her own life.
Though she had become unbearably beautiful, Vivian could not see her own reflection—not in mirrors, nor windows, nor even in the surface of a lake. That was the meaning of “unable to see oneself.”
And “trembling in unease until death.” Vivian could not believe anyone who told her she was beautiful.
At first she laughed it off in denial. But as time passed, she became convinced everyone was lying, that she had become a monster.
“Brother, I keep hearing voices in my head. They say I’m a monster. That I’m hideous…! That I’ll become a beast and kill everyone!”
“Vivian, no! Stay with me!”
“No, I’ve already become a monster.”
Nothing could reflect her image, so there was no way to prove otherwise.
At last, Vivian threw herself into a well.
Simon finally understood the true nature of Leopold’s curse. Soon after, monster sightings grew ever more frequent, and one by one, others in the family followed Vivian’s fate.
But Simon did not give up. He appealed to the temple, sought ways to break the curse, and worked tirelessly to discover the conditions for its manifestation.
He found that the curse activated if one was wounded by monsters or came into contact with their blood. But just as hope appeared, Simon himself lost an eye to a monster.
And yet, despite losing it, he became so striking that it seemed as if he had been born with only one eye, or that humans had always only possessed one eye—so beautiful he became.
But Viola, Ash’s mother, could only weep.
“You… you are beautiful. You know that better than anyone. So please, believe it. You are beautiful. You mustn’t die!”
Viola cried out, terrified of losing her husband as well, for every other cursed one had already perished.
Simon wept too, trying to convince himself of his beauty. But Leopold’s curse was overpowering.
A horde of monsters and cruel black mages would have been kinder. Leopold hadn’t departed mercifully—he had promised the cruelest death he could offer. Truly, he was a demon.
Simon endured night after night, whispering to himself that he was beautiful. Clutching mirrors, desperate to find a reflection he could never see. In the end, the curse devoured him.
The tragedy began one midnight.
Viola hid Ash deep inside their chamber, warning him not to come out. The boy, sensing something terrible was happening, wept.
“Mother, Mother!”
“My son, stay there. Don’t come out, do you understand?”
“Mother, don’t go!”
But Viola, despite Ash’s desperate pleas, left him hidden and went to face her maddened husband.
She tried everything to calm Simon—soothing words, angry shouts, tearful sobs. In the end, she was slain by the man she loved.
When Ash finally emerged, every member of House Balian had been murdered by Simon.
“Our house is cursed. We’ll all die, become monsters, lose our minds, and perish.”
“F-Father…”
“Leopold’s words are coming true. But I won’t let it end his way. Before that happens, I’ll kill them all with my own hands.”
Consumed by madness, Simon wept as he gripped Ash by the throat. But Ash could not resist or flee.
For though his father swore he would kill everyone, his eyes were crying. And in those deadened eyes flickered regret for standing against Leopold that day.
By miracle, Ash survived—saved by the arrival of the holy knight commander, Ronan, who had come to investigate.
The knights were horrified by the massacre, none more so than Ronan, Simon’s closest friend.
Ronan bound Simon and poured all his sacred power into purification. But the curse remained, lifted only for a fleeting moment.
In that brief instant of clarity, Simon recognized Ronan and begged before the madness returned:
“Ronan, kill me.”
“……”
“And please… protect my son, Ash…”
The last thing Ash saw before losing consciousness was Ronan, weeping bitterly, raising his blade above Simon’s head.
When Ash had nearly collapsed from exhaustion waiting for the curse’s turmoil to subside, he sensed someone approaching.
Pedro should have sealed off the forest—how had they gotten in? He wanted to flee, but his body was too weak. He prayed they would simply pass by. But instead, someone reached out. Ash grabbed their wrist with the last of his strength, intent on scaring them away.
But when he saw who it was, his body froze.
Charlotte.
Why was Charlotte here…? Ash’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could think further, her words stole his breath.
“Duke Balian?”
“!”
She had recognized him. How?
“…Did her memories return from that day?”
But there was no time to dwell. Ash held his breath, forcing strength into his legs, intent on fleeing far from her.
He knew—though he could not see himself—that he must look beautiful. Yet the curse twisted his mind, making him doubt. Was he truly beautiful? Or had he already become grotesque? The thought consumed him, compelling him to run, not wanting Charlotte to see his hideous form.
But something threw itself into his arms, shattering that resolve.
“Duke Balian!”
“!”
“It really is you, isn’t it?”
It was Aria. Ash, tense and defensive, could only relax. Smiling innocently, unafraid of his claws, she stroked his silver hair and the scales on his cheek as though handling something precious.
From beneath her white lashes, her blue eyes shone with the pure, childlike admiration reserved for something beautiful.
Of course, his reflection did not appear in her gaze. But the whispers gnawing at his ears ceased, and he began to calm—for only the second time in his life.
“…Hello, Aria.”
“Duke!”
“Yes.”
Aria giggled and buried herself in his embrace. Realizing there was no use hiding anymore, Ash trembled as he patted her back, then slowly raised his head. Charlotte’s face was filled with unguarded shock.
And Ash remembered.
“Dad, it’s my fault. Because of me, Ash…”
The little Charlotte, weeping and apologizing endlessly for something that wasn’t her fault. She wore that same expression now. At last, Ash understood why.
Could it be…?
“…When we first met, I thought you seemed familiar.”
So she had remembered.
“I wondered why it didn’t feel like we were meeting for the first time. And you said once, didn’t you? That we had seen each other long ago.”
Ash said nothing. Charlotte’s eyes lingered on the sharp scales breaking through his skin.
“I don’t recall everything clearly, but… Duke, when I was a child, you protected me from a monster, didn’t you?”
“……”
“I remember—you were badly wounded, yet you kept fighting.”
“……”
“And you looked exactly as you do now…”
Ash let out a small sigh, recalling the day he had been swallowed by the curse.
