<Episode 5>
“Wait—hold on. Are you saying she’ll become the Grand Duchess?”
Nishe, who had heard the first part on the mountain but was hearing this second revelation for the first time, recoiled instantly.
“That is impossible.”
Davior denied it almost reflexively, a rare flicker of displeasure crossing his cold, expressionless face.
Jizelle merely laughed, neither confirming nor denying.
“I’ll simply add that it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen such a hopeful future.”
“Jizelle.”
“You know how it is. I can’t describe it in more detail. It’s beyond the limits of my ability.”
At that, Davior exhaled a low sigh.
It had been a hundred years since mana had begun consuming his body.
He knew well that he did not have much time left.
His periods of sleep were growing dangerously long. At this pace, he would reach his limit within a year at best.
And yet—
‘The mana is not rampaging at all.’
Davior examined his own condition.
His body felt light, with none of the usual drowsiness dragging him down. The unfamiliar peace, the first in decades, felt almost unsettling.
Sensing her master’s thoughts, the witch asked,
“You’ll accept the girl, won’t you? My visions have never once been mistaken.”
Indeed, in all the long years, her prophecies had never been wrong.
But taking the girl as his Grand Duchess was out of the question. Her becoming Belmeier must be interpreted differently.
Because his destined partner was…
Davior answered in a low murmur,
“……Let us watch for now.”
If she could grant him even a little more time—if she could allow him to live “longer and longer”—
There was nothing this Winter Castle would refuse.
I confess.
After the Grand Duke left, I lost to temptation and fell asleep in his bed.
In my defense—
I had released my horse into the wild before climbing the mountain and conserved my mana as much as possible just in case.
I made that entire grueling ascent on my own frail legs.
Naturally, I hadn’t slept properly. The only thing I’d eaten was hastily prepared jerky, and I’d used more magic than usual.
Left alone in front of a soft, warm bed, exhaustion and drowsiness crashed over me, and instinct took over—I wriggled under the covers and…
“I apologize.”
I jerked upright awkwardly the moment I understood the situation, bowing my head.
Because the moment I opened my eyes, I locked gazes with a ghost-pale man sitting right there!
The Grand Duke sat in a chair beside the bed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“You slept.”
“I did.”
And it was glorious.
In the darkness, the faintly flickering candlelight traced the devastating lines of his face.
‘It’s night already.’
I was still on the bed, I realized belatedly.
My mind was sluggish from sleep, and I had just begun crawling out when the Grand Duke stopped me with a glance.
After several long seconds in that comfortable body and extremely uncomfortable mood, he finally spoke.
“How did you know my name?”
“As a former noble lady of Valtres, it’s basic knowledge to know the name of Davior, the last Master of the Mage Tower. I’m Irenne Valtres—well, I was.”
Honestly, it wasn’t even basic knowledge; in the Empire he was simply known as the Demon Duke.
Still, growing up in Valtres, where information about the Tower was plentiful, it wasn’t an unreasonable answer.
The Mage Tower—once the heart of magic.
The Grand Duke before me had destroyed it utterly over a century ago, and it had never been rebuilt.
The imperial family, which had long been wary of the Tower’s influence, used every excuse to bury the matter.
Instead, they had created the Imperial Department of Magic.
‘And my father’s lifelong ambition as its head is to restore the Mage Tower.’
Long ago, belonging to the Tower had been the greatest honor a mage could earn. Magic itself had thrived in those days.
Compared to then, the magical world now was practically barren.
The man who caused it all furrowed his beautiful brows.
“You speak in the past tense.”
“I abandoned my family name when I came here.”
Strike while the iron is hot—I spoke clearly.
“My name is Irenne. I was the daughter of House Valtres and the betrothed of Crown Prince Chesire Vladis Hilbarcia.”
From the moment I ran, I discarded my family name. Now I was simply Irenne.
“I’m neither a noble lady nor a future crown princess anymore.”
“……”
“A few days ago I tried to stab the crown prince…… so now I’m running. I don’t know if he survived, but if I’m caught, I’ll be executed.”
He barely reacted, and I wasn’t sure he was even listening, but I continued anyway.
“The Empire is basically my enemy now. And—oh! Belmeier’s enemy is the Empire too, isn’t it? Then we could be excellent allies.”
The Grand Duke answered with a seemingly unrelated question.
“Are you not afraid of Belmeier?”
I’m more afraid of the execution grounds.
I mimicked his observing gaze and studied him.
An impossibly beautiful man, like a statue crafted by mortal hands, cold as winter incarnate, and filled with demonic mana that chilled the bone.
Rumors said:
A butcher on the battlefield, a mad tyrant, the devil of the abyss, a demon, a calamity—every monstrous title imaginable.
But the man before me felt nothing like that. For one thing, he didn’t even complain about a trespasser boldly sleeping in his bed.
“I only believe what I see with my own eyes. And I’ve got plenty of nasty rumors about me too.”
My answer emerged naturally, as though it had already been decided.
“I want to become Belmeier’s mage.”
Belmeier’s mage.
The phrase was embarrassingly grand, but I liked the sound of it.
In the Empire, I had never truly been a mage—just a wicked villainess. And my family… well.
‘I certainly wasn’t their proud daughter.’
Valtres was a ruthless meritocracy.
Born at the cost of the Duchess’s life and possessing little mana, I had been forced to prove my worth from the very first moment I could remember.
For a direct descendant of a prestigious magical bloodline, having so little natural mana was fatal.
But my formula calculation and mana circuit recovery were astonishingly fast—unheard-of, even.
If I had possessed no talent at all, that would have been easier. Instead, I clung to magic desperately.
As a child, I craved family affection and struggled even harder.
“This flower was made with alchemical magic. I wanted to give it to you, Father……”
“I examined it already. Work harder.”
……Yes, there had been times like that. Long past now.
If I succeeded, it was “only natural for a Valtres.”
If I failed, it was “a disgrace to Valtres.”
‘Even with a lifetime of effort, I know exactly how it would have ended…….’
“Do not return to the capital until the royal wedding.”
“Father.”
“What you defiled was a temple! Before the gods, you shamed House Valtres!”
“They insulted me first.”
“Irenne Valtres! If you have even a shred of decency—!”
I remembered the thunderous roar of my father’s voice that day.
The inkwell he hurled, the glass shattering against my forehead because I didn’t dodge, the blood and ink dripping down my face—
And his furious red eyes glaring at me.
And further back—
The same lips that had never told me they loved me, declaring before the whole world that they cherished Lissie Valtres as their daughter.
Tender and cruel all at once.
‘……Ugh. Just bad memories surfacing.’
What I needed to think about now was not Valtres, but Belmeier. I needed to secure my place here.
I rubbed my smooth forehead needlessly and said,
“Even if you decided to kill me right here out of suspicion, I wouldn’t regret this choice.”
Magic circuits clicked into place like puzzle pieces.
“But, Grand Duke, I’m far too useful to simply eliminate.”
Fwoom!
The faint candlelight burst like a spark and vanished. Then the chandelier—once mere decoration—blazed with light as bright as midday.
It was only an advanced application of a basic Light spell—not extraordinary by any means. And yet I smiled as confidently as if I’d summoned the sun.
“I’ll use my magic for you.”
“…….”
The Grand Duke simply stared, unblinking. As though searching for something in me with cold persistence.
Facing those piercing, bright ash-gray eyes made my heart beat a little faster.
Thump, thump…….
After a long silence, he finally parted his tightly closed lips.
“I do not care why you came, and I do not care what you do.”
With those words, he granted my asylum.
“Just remember that the price of lies and betrayal is death.”
The immaculate white demon looked down at me, and the lethal warning made me genuinely delighted.
“What a coincidence. That happens to be my personal motto.”
