Chapter 73
Since that day, Alice began avoiding Cheshion. Gremory also clammed up the moment Fort Poquint was mentioned. It was clear both witches knew something, but with neither cooperating, progress was slow.
Cheshion contacted nobles he was close with, trying to gather information about Fort Poquint. But no one knew a thing.
He also tried to dig up anything about Princess Seriety, but that too failed. The lack of information was extreme, as if someone had purposely erased it. Any other princess would have at least some records, but not her.
While documents about the first emperor—Seriety’s father—still existed, they were useless. They were filled only with textbook-style praises of his great accomplishments.
About a week later…
“Um, Your Grace…”
Alice came to the office on her own.
“What is it?”
“I came to deliver this. Hoho…”
She shyly handed him a large, dusty sheet of paper. It smelled musty and old.
“What’s this?”
“Please open it.”
Cheshion unfolded it on the desk—it was an old map.
“A map from 200 years ago. Very few copies remain in the Empire, but I managed to get one. Hoho…”
Her voice was small, and she kept stealing glances at Cheshion. Her face looked hollow and pale.
“Why did you go to the trouble to find this?”
“Here. Look.”
Her long finger pointed to a spot on the map—northwest of the Empire, now a land ruled by vicious monsters.
There it was: Fort Poquint.
“What?! Why is it on a 200-year-old map? Was it destroyed during a war with monsters?”
“No. Fort Poquint wasn’t destroyed. Someone purposely erased it from modern maps. There were no monsters there originally. Someone released them to keep people away. Hoho…”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“The first emperor, Hamburt de Prilliant.”
Alice’s lips trembled as she said the name.
“Alice, are you okay?”
“Hoho… That’s all I can say. I can’t remember anything beyond that. I’ll just… go mop the floor now.”
She fled the room. Cheshion stared at the worn, tattered map for a long time.
Fort Poquint, Princess Seriety, and the witches—what’s the connection?
Gremory’s fear made some sense. Ibelia had clearly said that the Demon God’s first soul fragment was tied to her painful past. But why was Alice also so afraid?
One thing was certain—they had to go to Fort Poquint. That was where the soul fragment was.
“Should I go alone?”
There was no telling when the Demon God might awaken. He couldn’t afford to delay. If Gremory couldn’t go, then he’d go alone.
As he agonized over how to cross the Death Lands, the window suddenly burst open. Gremory popped her head inside.
“I’m coming with you.”
Startled, Cheshion rushed over.
“Mori! You can’t even turn into a cat—stop climbing through windows! That’s dangerous! Come inside, quickly.”
“I’m fine. I’m pretty nimble.”
She grabbed his outstretched hand and jumped into the office.
“You want to go to Fort Poquint with me? Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not okay. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go alone. Because of our contract, I have to stay by your side.”
“But what if it’s too hard on you?”
“I want to find out what exactly I’m afraid of in that place. And also…”
Gremory buried her face in Cheshion’s chest. In a soft voice, she murmured:
“If I’m with you, I think I’ll be okay.”
Hearing her heartfelt words, Cheshion gently kissed the top of her head.
“I’ll protect you. I promise.”
Gremory nestled closer into his arms, as if choosing to believe in him completely.
The two began preparing for their journey to the Death Lands. When Isolen heard the news, she was overwhelmed with fury. She suddenly grabbed Cheshion as he passed through the hallway.
“Your Grace! Are you really going to that dangerous place? No one has ever come back alive!”
“I’ll be with Mori, so it’s okay. And I already explained the situation.”
“But still…!”
“I appreciate your concern. But please look after the Grand Duchy while I’m gone.”
He walked past her. Isolen felt a mix of loss and growing anger toward Gremory.
Why does His Grace have to go to such a dangerous place? All because of a witch he picked up…!
But then she caught herself and frowned.
Ugh, what’s wrong with me? I feel more and more unhinged every day. Is that witch cursing me or something?
It wasn’t something she could talk to anyone about. She didn’t want to look like she was pathetically jealous. Besides, the Grand Duchy was protected by sacred barriers—there was no way a witch’s curse could work here.
Just then, Gremory walked by. Isolen frowned without realizing it. Gremory noticed and stopped.
“What? Why are you making that face at me?”
“Mori. Don’t you think I’ve been acting weird lately?”
“Yeah—your face.”
“Ugh, seriously!”
“Kidding. You’ve got a pretty face.”
Gremory brushed past her without a care. Isolen stood frozen, staring at her retreating figure.
What the hell…
Shaking her head, she walked away. Behind her, a shadow shaped like a person trailed her for a moment—then vanished.
Back in her office, Isolen began sorting through the mountain of invitations stacked in a box. She wrote rejection letters to them all. With Cheshion and Gremory headed to Fort Poquint, and herself staying behind under the protection of sacred artifacts, there was no one available to attend.
Just as she thought about taking a break—her wrist starting to ache—she spotted a plain white envelope.
What’s this?
It was totally plain. No decorations. No sender written on it. Not even sealed with wax. There was no reason something like this should have arrived at the Grand Duchy.
Inside was no invitation—just a torn scrap of paper.
“Please save me. I was wrong.”
“What the…?”
Isolen casually tossed it aside. It seemed like a prank.
She resumed writing rejections but couldn’t shake one thought: That handwriting looked… a lot like Catherine’s.
Late at night. With her witch’s wings spread wide, Gremory carried Cheshion through the skies. Hidden by darkness, they flew over the Death Lands.
Guuuuu—monsters howled eerily below. Spiky black trees crowded the ground beneath them. Occasionally, winged monsters flew up to attack, but Gremory repelled them with a flick of her hand.
In the distance, they saw a crumbling old fortress.
“Cheshion.”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you shaking like that?”
“I’m scared of heights.”
“Don’t look down. Close your eyes.”
“O-okay…”
He clung to Gremory’s small frame like a lifeline and shut his eyes.
“Mori.”
“What?”
“If something scary is inside that fortress, stay close to me and close your eyes too.”
“Okay.”
She answered calmly.
The place witches feared. The fortress buried in history by the first emperor. The location of the Demon God’s soul fragment. Whatever was inside, it wouldn’t be easy.
But they had to go. Humanity’s survival was at stake.
Gremory wanted to protect the peaceful daily life she had with the people at the Grand Duchy.
And above all, she wanted freedom. To kill the Demon God and be freed from the cursed fate of being a sacrifice.
The fortress they finally reached was blackened from years of neglect. They entered through a large window.
Inside was dead silent. They expected at least a few monsters, but not even a single bug stirred.
Gremory held tightly to Cheshion’s hand and pulled him toward a staircase ahead.
“Let’s go. We need to go down there.”
“Did you remember something?”
“…No. Just a feeling.”
Without a word, Cheshion followed her down the spiral staircase. Below, it was pitch black.
