Chapter 50
The cake was so lavish and beautiful that even Cecile herself couldn’t help but gape in surprise.
“Happy birthday, my lady. This is a small gift from me and the head chef.”
Isaac winked at her.
“My goodness, I’ve never seen such a gorgeous cake in my life! Thank you so much!”
At her words, even Hans—whose rugged, wild face rarely softened—flushed and allowed a gentle expression to slip through.
With that, nearly everyone who should attend Cecile’s birthday party had arrived. Everyone except one person.
The absence was noticeable. The Irregulars had already sent word earlier that they were on an important mission and couldn’t come, so their absence was understandable. But this person’s failure to appear was unexpected. Everyone could feel it.
“The Duke seems a little late.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Does he not dote on Lady Cecile?”
BOOM! CRACK! Thunder and lightning tore across the sky so loudly it made ears ring.
At that very moment, every gaze turned upward to the second-floor balcony.
There stood a man whose presence alone seized the attention of the hall. His charisma was overwhelming—like a storm contained in human form.
Beneath the chandelier light, his hair glimmered dark as raven wings, his golden eyes gleamed coldly, and his face was a masterpiece as if carved from marble by a master sculptor.
As Duke Bartholomew looked down, the lively atmosphere of the hall tightened with tension. Everyone bowed their heads in respect.
Everyone except one.
“Duke!”
Cecile darted toward him as he descended the stairs, flinging her arms around his waist.
“Duke, I missed you!”
His expression had been as cold as ice—but when she pressed her cheek against his waist, the corners of his lips curved in the faintest of smiles.
“I’m glad I wasn’t too late,” he murmured warmly, lifting her into his arms.
Held close against him, Cecile felt the astonished stares of everyone in the hall.
“Unbelievable… Even seeing it with my own eyes, I can hardly believe it,” she overheard someone whisper. Cecile only chuckled mischievously and nestled more comfortably into the duke’s embrace.
The party lasted late into the night.
Cecile received mountains of gifts, cut and shared the cake, and danced in turn with Iris, the duke, and Isaac. By the end of it, a heavy weariness settled over her.
She yawned widely.
‘Honestly, having the body of an eight—no, nine-year-old is so inconvenient. So frail, so exhausting.’
“You must be very tired, my lady. Shall we retire now?” Anne asked.
Cecile nodded.
Hearing this, Isaac clapped his hands to draw the room’s attention.
“Then let us bring tonight’s party to a close. Thank you, everyone, for gracing us with your presence.”
After seeing Iris off, Cecile was just about to go upstairs with Anne when—
BANG! BANG! BANG! A thunderous knock shook the hall. Cecile instinctively turned her head.
A figure appeared—a woman with pink hair, cloaked and hooded, rain dripping from her garments. One of the Irregulars.
“Forgive the late hour, Boss. This is the report you requested.”
She produced a rain-spattered envelope she had shielded inside her cloak and handed it to the duke.
Bartholomew pulled out the documents, scanned them—and his face hardened instantly.
“We’ll discuss this upstairs,” he said curtly.
The two disappeared into his study.
‘The duke’s reaction was strange,’ Cecile thought uneasily.
‘And come to think of it, it was odd that he arrived late today. He’s never once been late before.’
Memories of the recent string of dangerous incidents flashed through her mind. Her chest tightened with unease.
Once in her bedroom, Cecile waited for Anne to leave before slipping out again and heading toward the duke’s study.
A faint light leaked through the cracks of the closed door. Cecile pressed her eye to the keyhole.
“Is this true? The whereabouts of the artifact—Nibelung?”
At the mention of Nibelung, Cecile’s heart dropped into her stomach.
But the woman’s next words shocked her even more.
“Yes, Boss. Based on our investigation, the most likely current location of Nibelung is… inside this very manor.”
[C-Cecile!]
Nibelung’s voice rang in her head, filled with panic.
She couldn’t reply.
“Which means someone has already brought it into the estate and possesses it,” the duke concluded grimly.
“Indeed. And given the artifact’s nature—its power to incite greed and malice—it won’t be easily taken by force.”
The duke’s face darkened, grave in thought. After a moment, he raised his head.
“Whoever holds it, we must seize it. And quickly.”
His golden eyes blazed colder than ever before.
Cecile couldn’t endure any longer.
‘Duke Bartholomew is dangerous.’
She turned and fled toward her room.
‘I have to get out of here. Now.’
She packed swiftly: a change of clothes, food, hidden potions, secret savings, and her research notes. She had long prepared for such an emergency, and it wasn’t difficult.
With her bag slung over her shoulder, Cecile dashed into the storm.
The rain lashed her body, the wind battering her until she could barely keep her balance, but she did not stop.
‘It was the first time. The first time anyone celebrated my birthday.’
In her previous life, the day of her birth hadn’t been a blessing, but the beginning of a cursed, miserable existence.
No one had ever celebrated her, and she had never wished for it. Birthdays were something she had all but forgotten.
‘When I first heard they were throwing me a birthday party, I wondered why on earth they’d bother with such a nuisance.’
When told she deserved a celebration, she insisted she didn’t need one. She’d never had a birthday before, so why start now? She was used to going without.
The pitying gazes that followed her words had felt suffocating.
‘Why does everyone in this mansion make such a fuss over every little thing? A birthday isn’t important…’
But—
She had been running so long her lungs burned, her body chilled to the bone.
‘…But the truth is, it was fun. The birthday party.’
Just then, Cecile stumbled and fell.
“Ugh!”
With a splash, she landed in a puddle, drenched head to toe in mud.
She knew she was filthy, but she couldn’t rise right away. She was too exhausted. Memories kept rising unbidden in her mind.
Anne, strict yet genuinely caring. Isaac, frivolous at times but kind and capable. Hans, rugged yet delicate and diligent. Ace, foolish but sometimes admirable.
‘They’re all just part of the past now. If I see them again, it’ll be as enemies. Better if I never see them at all.’
And him—cold, harsh, yet secretly so gentle.
‘No. Don’t think about him.’
The one who had said words no other adult ever had. The one stronger than anyone, yet carrying wounds deeper than anyone.
‘That kindness, that warmth, that look of affection—it was all an act. In the end, he only wants to take Nibelung from me.’
