Chapter 32
“C-crazy…!”
“What the hell is this bastard doing?”
In a secluded valley of the Limpim Mountain Range—inside the bandits’ hideout, beyond the wooden barricades.
By rough count, well over fifty bandits were sprawled across the ground. Some lay unconscious amid the hazy clouds of dust, while others still clung to awareness, groaning in pain.
“Monster bastard.”
A bandit who had just had his ankle slashed by William spat out a curse as he collapsed.
At first, hearing there was only a single intruder, he’d thought they wouldn’t even get a chance to warm up. But one by one, his comrades fell, and by the time he came to his senses, he too was face-down on the dirt.
“What do you want? Why the hell did you even come here?!”
“Hm… what I want, you say.”
The monstrous man who had taken down all his comrades tilted his head, resting his chin in his hand, pondering—with an impossibly handsome face.
He hadn’t really wanted an answer; he’d only shouted in frustration. Seeing the man actually think about it seriously made his blood boil even more.
“You bastard, are you messing with me?!”
“…? I don’t recall ever joking.”
“This guy’s a real lunatic.”
William couldn’t understand what the bandit was getting at, but he knew he had to keep moving forward. Expressionless, he struck the back of the last bandit’s neck with the flat of his blade as the man clutched his slashed ankle and raged.
“Ghk!”
As the bandit’s head slammed into the ground, William lightly shook the dust from his sword and strode over the fallen bodies. Small cuts marked his body here and there, but what lingered in his mind was the injury he’d seen earlier on Rafaella Bol.
The defensive artifact was a treasured heirloom passed down through generations of the Klimt ducal house, a symbol of the family head. Over a hundred years ago, spirit callers vanished, and the number of mages dwindled drastically. They weren’t extinct yet, but in the Empire, those remaining could be counted on one hand.
As a result, any kind of artifact had become a treasure so rare that even mountains of gold wouldn’t guarantee one.
That precious necklace had just been drained to its limit. It had carried them through several perilous moments, but until its mana recharged, it would be nothing more than an ornament for an entire day.
With mounting anxiety, William quickened his steps toward the burrow Rafaella had rushed into.
Whoooosh—
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through.
“Duke!”
Perry appeared before William’s eyes, flapping her blue wings.
“Lady Perry, why are you here? Where is Her Highness?”
“My master is inside there. Perry’s going to bring Mark and the knights, just like my master ordered!”
“You mean Her Highness is alone right now? What was the situation inside the burrow? Were there any enemies hiding?”
“Oh my, Duke. Why are you suddenly asking questions like my master? Perry’s scared.”
“I’m concerned for Her Highness’s safety. Please answer me.”
“When Perry went in earlier, I only saw Rosalie locked in a prison. But it was a magic-stone prison, so it made me really dizzy and scared.”
At Perry’s words, William’s brows knit sharply.
“…Did you just say magic stone?”
“Yeah. That pitch-black stuff, you know. The bad thing humans use to torment others!”
Hearing that, William hurriedly pulled out a signal flare from his coat and fired it into the sky without hesitation. It was a short-range signal flare—if the knights weren’t nearby, they might not even see it.
But there was no time.
Piiiii—boom!
A red flare burst high above the Limpim Mountains.
“Lady Perry, please bring Mark and the knights here as quickly as possible. I beg you.”
“Yeah! That’s what I was gonna do anyway. But Duke, why do you suddenly look so scary? Are you mad because my master ditched you earlier?”
“These people are more dangerous than we thought. They may not be mere bandits. Mark should be at least near the mountain’s entrance by now. Please hurry.”
“Okay. Got it!”
Before Perry had even taken off, William was already moving.
Kicking up clouds of dust, he sprinted toward the burrow. A foreboding feeling made his heart pound, his pulse thundering dully in his ears.
While the old man and the masked figures argued back and forth, Rafaella quickly relayed everything to Rosalie—the story she’d heard from Count Cester before setting out.
Rosalie’s gentle face gradually drained of color. It wasn’t fear so much as a cold, simmering rage.
“Th-that… it’s really true?”
“Yes. I heard it directly from your father.”
Normally, when Rosalie got angry, she’d vent by smashing rocks and the like.
As was typical of adolescence, her emotions often surged wildly, and whenever that happened, she’d come to the hideout. The cave they used as their base had grown so large because Rosalie had fully entered her rebellious phase.
Now, more than ever, Rosalie desperately wanted to smash something.
She was that confused.
Her thoughts tangled, Rosalie began to ramble.
“Uh… s-so that means… my mother…”
This was the first time her anger didn’t explode outward, but instead sank inward.
It sank so deeply it felt like something dark and silent at the bottom of an abyss was cracking apart.
Uncharacteristically gentle, Rafaella added quietly,
“Little lady. I’ll help you do whatever you choose.”
“……”
“If you want to run away, I’ll help you escape. If you want revenge, I’ll help you take it.”
“Th-then… what should I do?”
“That’s something you have to decide. It’s your life. Others can advise, support, and help—but in the end, the one who bears responsibility for the choice is you.”
“……”
“So think carefully, again and again, and come to a conclusion that leaves you with the least regret.”
“The… least regret? Not no regret?”
As she calmly replied, Rafaella tore the hem of her dress with a rip and bound her bleeding shoulder.
“No matter what you choose, you’ll always regret and wonder about the path you didn’t take.”
Rosalie looked at Rafaella with trembling eyes. She was now wrapping cloth tightly around her slashed thigh.
“So you can only choose the path you’ll regret less. And once you choose, it’s better for your mental health not to look back.”
She must have been in terrible pain, yet she didn’t let out a single groan. Rosalie found that admirable.
And the fact that she had come all the way to this dangerous place in person to find her—Rosalie—filled her with an indescribable emotion. Like a battle goddess from the stories she’d read, Rafaella shone brilliantly.
Rosalie murmured to herself,
“I… I want to be strong too. L-like you, sis. No—like you, Your Highness.”
Though she’d barely spoken above a whisper, Rafaella seemed to hear. She snapped her head around and looked Rosalie straight in the eye.
Then, smiling brightly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, she said,
“You’re already strong, Rosalie.”
“!”
“You know it too. There’s no one here physically stronger than you. Honestly, right now you’re probably stronger than me.”
“……”
“You already have the power to do anything. You have your mother’s keepsake—the power she left you.”
“Th-that’s right… it was a keepsake…”
Rosalie thought, and thought again.
Just as Rafaella said, she searched her mind for a path that would leave her with the least regret, wandering through her thoughts over and over. Rafaella waited calmly as Rosalie struggled with her decision.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The old man, having finished his argument, slammed his cane roughly against the ground.
Whatever persuasion he’d used, the masked men once again bared their hostility toward Rafaella.
“You bitch! Do you know how much time you’ve made us waste?!”
“How is that my fault? You’re the idiots here.”
“Let’s see if you can keep running that snake tongue when it’s torn out!”
“Looks like you reached an agreement with your lackeys.”
“Yeah! First we’ll capture you and lock you up, then head straight for the capital. We even doubled the pay! You’ll pay for bluffing over something so trivial. Get her!”
As soon as the old man finished shouting, the masked men charged at Rafaella all at once.
Thud-thud-thud—!
Rafaella quickly leapt backward. Sharp throwing knives thudded into the crate where she’d been sitting just moments before.
Gripping her spirit-wood club tightly, Rafaella sneered at the charging men and mocked them,
“Watch closely, Rosalie. This is what happens when you live your life just doing what you’re told—your judgment rots like theirs.”
She twisted her body to evade a man who thrust his sword straight at her, then smashed his arm with the club.
“Ghk!”
With a clang, the sword fell to the ground. Right behind him, a man wearing knuckle guards swung both fists in a relentless barrage. Rafaella dodged one punch by bending her waist, then tried to strike the other with her club.
But his punch was faster.
Thud!
“Ugh…!”
The knuckle-guarded fist slammed mercilessly into Rafaella’s side.
