Chapter 49
A deafening crack resounded, loud enough to make one think a skull had split or a bone had shattered.
“Guhk!”
The impact alone left Horace foaming at the mouth, but the Duke wasn’t satisfied.
“I’ll make you regret ever being born.”
The merciless thud of blows echoed again and again, yet not a single person dared to intervene.
Everyone present felt it.
If they stepped in, they could very well die.
Though Horace was already on the verge of death, not even the city guards were summoned in that suffocating moment.
“Duke, I’m fine!”
Cecile clung to the Duke’s leg, desperately holding him back.
“Cecile.”
Only then did a flicker of reason return to him.
“Cecile, are you all right? Did you get hurt anywhere?”
He reached out, intending to lift her into his arms, but then pulled back. His hands were still stained with the blood from pummeling Horace.
Quickly, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped them clean.
Cecile shook her head firmly.
“Not a scratch. Thanks to you and Ann protecting me, I wasn’t hurt at all. So it’s all right! You don’t need to be angry anymore.”
Truthfully, Cecile didn’t care whether scum like Horace lived or died.
What worried her was not Horace, but the Duke.
Even for someone like him, killing a man in broad daylight, in the middle of a bustling district, would have enormous repercussions.
He already had countless enemies; they would seize the chance to rip him apart.
And people would fear him… hate him.
Cecile thought bitterly.
He’s already so misunderstood. If something like this happens, it’ll be impossible to undo. It’s unfair—there’s no one who thinks more for the people than he does, yet he’ll be despised as a villain by those very citizens.
Whether he knew her anxious thoughts or not, the Duke checked her condition one last time before sweeping her into his arms.
“It’s such, such a relief that you’re safe.”
His voice, for once, carried a faint tremor of fragility.
Fragility—from the same man who had just beaten a hulking brute senseless without breaking a sweat.
But Cecile knew. She alone had seen the vulnerability that no one else ever could.
She felt his hand trembling as he held her.
Dozens of eyes were watching him, yet none of them understood what this moment meant for a man who had once lost someone he loved to sudden misfortune. Only Cecile understood.
She sighed softly and embraced him back.
“I’m glad you came, Duke.”
Cecile, the Duke, and Ann returned to the ducal estate, Cecile still nestled in his arms.
The Duke had apparently rushed to the boutique after hearing Cecile had gone there to fit her birthday dress.
Whatever the reason, it’s a blessing he arrived when he did, Cecile thought.
As for Horace… I heard he was seized by the Duke’s men and dragged off. Likely straight to the torture chamber. Well, whatever. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.
Soon after, the Duke tightened Cecile’s security. From now on, a full escort of twelve knights would accompany her whenever she went out officially.
Hmm. That means it’ll be difficult to visit Cozy Cauldron for a while. Still, things are finally settling down there—Hans and the staff can manage without me. Thank goodness.
Even afterward, Cecile often recalled the incident.
The way the Duke lost all composure when he realized she was in danger.
The relief in his voice when he saw she was unharmed.
The trembling of his hands.
None of that felt like an act, Cecile thought.
Then… does that mean he’s broken his vow? That no matter how much material support he gave, he would never give affection?
The thought made her chest tighten, her stomach fluttering unsteadily, her heart racing.
And it wasn’t merely because she had been saved or felt safe.
Could it be that… in this life… I won’t be betrayed by him?
She bit her lip.
The memory of his betrayal in her past life still left a hollow ache inside her.
Well, who knows? Maybe even he doesn’t realize it. I’ll have to ask him someday.
Still, one thing nagged at her.
Right before the Duke arrived… I almost used black magic.
It had been only for the briefest moment, but she had prepared to summon it to protect Ann and herself.
Because the Duke had appeared before the spell took form, Ann and the crowd never noticed—but the Duke might have.
If anyone could recognize the motions of black magic, it was him.
In the past life, he would’ve recognized it immediately. But this is twenty years earlier… I don’t know how much he knows about black magic at this point.
If the Duke learned she was a black sorceress, it would spell disaster.
Cecile turned the matter over in her head.
But no… if he had realized, he wouldn’t have treated me like that. He wouldn’t have shown me such warmth.
Still, she resolved to keep watching him closely.
Autumn deepened, and Cecile’s ninth birthday drew near.
The day when a shocking truth would be revealed—one she would never forget.
Cecile’s birthday fell on the very last day of October: Halloween.
That year, heavy rain poured from morning to night.
While the storm raged outside, the ducal mansion held a warm, lovely party inside.
Neither Duke Bartholomew’s household nor Cecile had many guests to expect.
Her birthday celebration was a modest affair, shared with the estate staff and a handful of close friends.
“You came to this mansion in January, and now it’s already the end of October! You’ve been with us nearly a whole year,” Ann said proudly, looking at Cecile.
Cecile wore her new birthday dress—black velvet, styled with a witch motif for Halloween. A little headpiece shaped like a pointed hat suited her perfectly.
“Yes. So much has happened since then, hasn’t it?” Cecile replied, giving a graceful twirl before the maids and servants.
Gasps and murmurs of admiration filled the room.
“You look so beautiful, my lady!”
“It suits you so well!”
One of the cooks even teared up at the sight.
“Lady Cecile is our princess. Well—she is a real princess, after all…”
[Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, Cecile!]
Nibelung’s cheerful voice rang out as he waved at her.
I’m just confirming that my talent for charming as a black sorceress hasn’t dulled, Cecile thought wryly, blowing a playful kiss. Several people clutched their hearts in mock swoons.
Just then, the kitchen doors burst open and Isaac and Hans wheeled in a massive cart.
On it stood the birthday cake.
The sight drew astonished cries from every corner.
It was a grand cake shaped like a dollhouse—a perfect replica of the ducal mansion itself.
Every detail of the interior was rendered so finely it was hard to believe it was edible, topped with a marzipan figurine of Cecile herself and a large cookie shaped like the number 9.
