Chapter 28
Thinking so, Linton headed to the former Countess’s bedroom.
He had come, driven by anger and a desire for revenge, but when he finally stood in front of the door, his feet refused to move.
Was it because he knew it was the room of a dead person? It was just an ordinary door like any other, but an eerie and unpleasant chill seemed to emanate from it.
“Come on, don’t be ridiculous!”
Linton shook his head violently.
“Why should I be scared of some dead woman? Alright, I’m going in!”
Bang! Linton kicked open the door.
The former Countess’s room was clean, as if it had been well-maintained, but it was dark, and the air felt strangely colder than in the rest of the house.
‘I’m going to smash everything. I won’t leave a single ornament behind!’
Breathing heavily, Linton stepped into the bedroom.
But as he stood in the middle of the room, he suddenly realized his feet wouldn’t move.
“What the…? Why can’t I move my feet?!”
“To my daughter…”
A sinister voice came from somewhere, and Linton’s hair stood on end. He managed to glance behind him—but there was nothing there.
“How dare you… to my daughter…”
Only then did Linton realize—the voice wasn’t coming from behind. It was coming from above.
Trembling, Linton looked up toward the ceiling.
And then… his eyes met hers.
“U-Uwaaaaah!!”
A woman with long hair and a pale face was hanging upside down from the ceiling, weeping tears of blood. The blood dripping from her eyes landed, drop by drop, on Linton’s face.
“How dare you… do such things to my daughter…”
“Ahhh! I-I was wrong! Spare me! Let me go!”
Linton screamed like a madman. He wanted to run away more than anything. The door was wide open in front of him. But he couldn’t take a single step.
“Unforgivable…”
The former Countess stretched out her thin, pale arm and grabbed Linton by the neck, pulling him up to the ceiling.
“Gkk! Gahh! Gck…!”
Linton thrashed desperately in the air. His eyes rolled back, and foam began to bubble from his mouth.
“Unforgivable. I’ll kill you…”
“Linton! Linton, where are you?!”
At that moment, the servants and the arrested Countess came looking for him.
But what they saw was Linton’s lifeless body hanging from the chandelier.
“Gasp!”
“Noooo! Linton!”
The servants screamed, and the Countess collapsed with her legs giving out beneath her.
She began to sob uncontrollably, but the dead could not answer. Only the ominous creak of the chandelier holding the body echoed through the room.
“The current Countess of House O’Neill arrested for child abuse.”
Cecile read aloud from the newspaper in a clear voice.
“The eldest son, an accomplice, was found dead, presumed to have committed suicide. Upon confirming her son’s death, the Countess confessed to all charges.”
[Indeed, those who sin will face justice.]
“Yeah, just like how I was murdered by the Duke,” Cecile replied with a cynical smile as she folded the newspaper.
[But how curious. That Linton brat didn’t seem like the type to feel guilt. He committed suicide? Really?]
“……”
[Be honest with me, Cecile. You didn’t do something, did you?]
Cecile, resting her chin on her hand, grinned slyly.
“Remember how on the way to the drawing room, I felt a powerful grudge radiating from the bedroom?”
[Yes. Judging by how it couldn’t move on, it must’ve been an earthbound spirit.]
“All I did was give the former Countess a chance to get her revenge. I figured she’d want to take vengeance with her own hands—for her daughter.”
[You’re amazing, Cecile! To think all that in such a short moment! You really are the partner I chose!]
“Pfft, yeah right.”
Cecile chuckled quietly.
A few days later, Cecile returned to the Count’s estate in disguise once again—this time to collect her fee.
The Count practically ran out barefoot to greet her.
“Miss! I thought I’d never see you again. You vanished so suddenly, before I could even thank you properly!”
“Something urgent came up. Freelance exorcists like me are always busy.”
“I’m so glad you came back. Risch will be thrilled. She regained consciousness, and her condition has improved significantly.”
The Count’s face was noticeably brighter, perhaps because the weight on his mind had finally lifted.
“Risch kept saying how much she missed you. If you have time, could you see her before you go? Better yet, would you consider staying at our estate for a few days? We’ll treat you with the utmost hospitality!”
‘I already slipped out without telling Anne. I’d get scolded again, like last time.’
Cecile smiled and shook her head.
“It’s fine. I’ll just take my payment and be on my way.”
Cecile received a hefty sum from Count O’Neill.
Three thousand gold coins.
Three thousand gold! That was one and a half times the originally promised amount.
She looked at the check with three zeros before tucking it into her coin pouch.
‘With this, I can open my own shop—right in a prime spot downtown.’
Cecile thought with a pleased expression.
‘I’ll just borrow Hans’s name for the paperwork.’
Daydreaming about her future store brought her genuine joy.
“Summer must be nearly here. Sherbet tastes amazing.”
Cecile scooped another spoonful of sherbet into her mouth.
“Ah, so refreshing!”
Duke Bartholomew watched her intently. His usual stoic face was unchanged, but his eyes were as if he were observing a rare, fascinating creature.
‘She can enjoy sherbet that much?’—his gaze seemed to say.
“Have more.”
“Again? No thanks. That was my third bowl. I’ll get a stomachache at this rate.”
At her words, the Duke lowered his hand, which had been halfway raised to summon a footman.
‘To think I can sit in the Duke’s beautiful garden, under a parasol held by servants, eating sherbet to my heart’s content—what luxury.’
It was something unthinkable during her days barely surviving in the Imperial Palace or during her fugitive life before returning in time.
Cecile hopped off the bench.
“Alright, sherbet’s done. Let’s go. You’ve got work to do, right?”
“But—”
“No buts. I know your retainers are waiting for you in the study. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
Cecile tugged on the Duke’s arm with a playful grin.
The Duke pretended to gaze into the distance, but when Cecile pulled on his arm several times, he reluctantly stood up.
Cecile hummed cheerfully, walking ahead.
‘I’m glad I asked him to spend more time with me when he said he couldn’t give me affection.’
These days, the Duke had certainly grown more accustomed to her. He even tolerated light physical contact like pulling his arm.
‘Maybe… he’s even started to like me…?’
Just as she had that thought, a strange sense of déjà vu struck Cecile.
She had thought something like this once before.
That maybe the Duke had grown fond of her.
That maybe they could continue peacefully like this.
That maybe…
Maybe she could finally have something she’d never had before—a family.
But at the very moment when she had trusted the Duke most, he had betrayed her.
He had stabbed her in the back—to steal Nibelung from her.
The memory of Duke Bartholomew’s betrayal crept up her legs like a slow, cold serpent. It was so chilling and unpleasant it made her shudder.
Lost in her thoughts, Cecile didn’t see the rock in front of her.
“Ah!”
She tripped over it and fell hard.
“Cecile!”
She opened her tightly shut eyes.
Her knee stung. It hurt. But more than the pain, her pride was hurt far worse.
‘I wouldn’t usually trip from something this small.’
Her physical strength and athletic ability were pitiful, but before her regression, she had always used magic to protect herself—she never fell.
Now she’d embarrassed herself falling alone, and in front of no less than Duke Bartholomew!
‘I want him to see me as mature and clever, so why does nothing ever go my way?’
Cecile grumbled inwardly as she tried to get up. But her legs wouldn’t cooperate.
Then suddenly, she felt herself being lifted.
“Cecile! Are you alright?”
Duke Bartholomew had picked her up in his arms.
