Chapter 24
Arthur took out a healing stone he always kept for emergencies and brought it to his own head.
“If you have a healing stone, use it on that guy instead.”
Tamarin jeered, and Arthur shot Tamarin a glare.
A green light rose from the healing stone, and the flowing blood began to stop.
Arthur wiped the blood with a handkerchief. Seeing it soaked, he struck the bell on the fireplace.
“Tamarin, I warn you—don’t bite the young lady like that.”
“Shut up. Don’t nag. He doesn’t bite like that.”
“Then why are you biting me? Don’t you see the blood? Huh?”
“You’re annoying.”
Tamarin opened his mouth wide, and Nell placed him on his lap and stroked him. Tamarin, who had been growling angrily, let out a purring sound.
“Arthur, what exactly do you expect to gain by holding Marcella back?”
The swindler, liar, and heartless Arthur Digory.
It was easy for him to lie to manipulate the situation to his will. But to confess—the moment his lord looked him straight in the eyes and asked a question—he could not lie.
Even late at night, Duke Martinez came looking for Arthur.
Arthur had been having a light dinner of bread scraps at his desk while catching up on piled-up paperwork, smiling faintly. This was the second visitor that evening who came in angry.
“If you have any excuses, say them now.”
“Suddenly showing up, sir? What do you mean?”
“Don’t play innocent, Arthur without a father.”
The Duke struck the table where Arthur sat. Why did everyone feel compelled to hit the desk, Arthur wondered.
Arthur smiled faintly. If he were to make excuses, there were far too many he could offer—but which one was the Duke referring to?
“You clearly said that although your proposal was rejected, you’d stay in the annex.”
“That’s correct.”
“Stop pretending you don’t know. That irritating expression alone is enough to annoy even His Majesty!”
“I don’t understand why you’re angry, sir. I’ve told no lies. Lady Marcella is indeed staying in the annex.”
“But you didn’t tell me how you had her on her knees begging, threatening she’d die if she left, and only managed to stop her with force before she finally stepped on you.”
Arthur closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled faintly.
“Sir, you should consider replacing your mouse.”
“Are you saying that’s not true?”
“I swear on this precious quill of mine—I’ve never knelt nor said I’d die.”
“Being stepped on is true, though?”
“Let’s overlook that minor detail.”
Why bring up such a sad fact? Arthur felt uncomfortable but didn’t deny it.
“Lady Marcella is unexpectedly bold. When she was told she couldn’t leave until she stepped on me, she did it without hesitation.”
Arthur rubbed the spot where he had been stepped on and fell into thought, making Duke Martinez laugh in disbelief.
“Arthur Digory, you’re so heartless that I suppose it doesn’t matter to you if any woman steps on you.”
“I’m deeply honored that Duke Martinez has seen through this heartless, fatherless me,” Arthur replied.
“So do as you wish. I’ll stay out of this.”
“Sir,” Arthur frowned while rubbing his temples.
“You have so much work, yet why do you get involved too? Lady Marcella didn’t step on you herself.”
“Does it matter how miserable I feel in the process?”
“What’s wrong with being a little miserable? Does it even look like I have pride?”
Arthur’s confident expression made Duke Martinez frown.
“I’d rather struggle to the end, miserable as it may be, than regret it later.”
“…You won’t live long, you know.”
“Well, then I won’t have time to regret my foolish choices, so that’s fine.”
Arthur realized Duke Martinez was looking at him as if he were insane.
“Good news, sir: Lady Marcella graciously forbade proposals but couldn’t forbid confessions.”
Arthur set his quill on the desk and stood.
“So, sir, what you should do is not storm into my office late at night and slam the desk in anger, but advise how His Majesty should confess, as a lover.”
“Arthur Digory, do you think I’d do that?”
“Of course.”
Arthur smiled at Duke Martinez, who glared at him.
“Even if you try to hide it, you’ve failed, sir. You’re clearly curious.”
He didn’t need to come this late to scold Arthur. Even if annoyed by Arthur’s behavior, he could just ignore him.
“…So who exactly is this Marcella Morris? She brutally stepped on fatherless Arthur and walked past him—she’s no ordinary woman.”
“Quite an ordinary young lady, actually.”
“Does an ordinary young lady step on you and walk past?”
“At least on the outside, yes.”
The knights guarding the corridor to the Emperor’s chamber noticed Arthur and lowered their spears.
Arthur continued down the moonlit corridor.
“Sir, seeing Lady Marcella appear so ordinary is terrifying for the first time.”
“You’re really afraid of something?”
“Strange words, sir.”
Finally reaching the Emperor’s chamber, Arthur knocked on the door. Instead of Nell’s voice, the sound of a beast came.
“I’m human, so I feel fear.”
Marcella lay quietly on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“What am I even doing here?”
Even without doing anything, meals, snacks, tea, clothes, and shoes appeared, all beautifully packaged.
They were likely gifts Arthur Digory had chosen. But Marcella couldn’t feel pure joy. Accepting them meant staying here longer, as if coerced.
Yet she couldn’t refuse. She hadn’t expected to be here for so long, and she only had the single dress she had worn.
Could it be that Arthur Digory had planned this from the start? Pushing her into the blizzard, driving her almost to death?
The thought that the Emperor liked her was absurd.
“Who would put someone they liked in such danger?”
She recalled Nell’s calm and confident promise to confess a hundred times, and frowned.
“I can’t accept this.”
Unable to sleep, she got up and paced, eventually sitting on the recessed brick by the window.
“This is the imperial palace I always wanted to see…”
When she was very young, before accepting that she was an Inferior, Marcella had dreams.
Over ten years ago, a monster appeared on Mount Morris. Count Morris requested help from the Imperial Court.
The court sent two imperial mages. Their robes, embroidered with golden dragon heads, looked magnificent to young Marcella.
“Sis, I’ll become an imperial mage too!”
Her sister smiled gently.
“Really? Work hard, Marcella. You can do it.”
Marcella had expected encouragement, but her sister’s response was mild, not as enthusiastic as she’d hoped.
“If I become strong like them, I can help before sis even goes to Castleade to ask!”
Marcella complained. Her sister had apologized at the time.
“Can I really become a mage like them?”
Still, Marcella had shown courage. After the monster was safely defeated, she asked the heroes at the celebration.
One mage laughed; the other, a boyish mage, looked at her and nodded.
“You’re Count Morris’s younger sister?”
“Yes!”
Marcella was thrilled that they recognized her as the younger sister of her proud and impressive sister.
“If you work hard, you can do it. But becoming an imperial mage isn’t easy. So…”
She was too excited to fully hear the rest, but she felt encouraged.
She had rushed to her sister, talking about the mages’ support.
It couldn’t be helped; she was only about five years old. She didn’t realize that the mage had been careful not to disappoint a child.
Marcella swallowed her mixed feelings and got up.
Outside the annex, the wind gently shook the trees.
The moonlight cast shadows, making the leaves look like rippling waves.
“Marcella, you fool. You’re an Inferior. How could you become a mage? Let alone an imperial mage!”
If Donor hadn’t told her, she would have kept declaring her dream of becoming an imperial mage even after turning ten.
She hadn’t realized the adults had been looking at her with pity and whispering.
