Chapter 25
Had it not been for the duke’s extraordinary memory, he would never have recognized who she was. That was how little presence Countess Luna had ever held in his life.
Her sticky, cloying greeting stirred up unpleasant memories. The cogs of the past began to turn with a creak.
“My lord duke, come closer to me.”
The sultry voice of a woman—one who had no name back then, now Countess Luna—tickled the duke’s body. At that time, he had been utterly immobile from the side effects of his recent regression, unable to move even a single finger.
“I was so glad when you reached your hand out to me first.”
Countess Luna raised her hand to cover her lips and laughed softly, hoho. But her eyes brimmed not with shyness but with greed and desire.
This was Kyle’s doing.
That damned cursed sword—there was no other explanation for why it had thrown him into regression at such a moment. On the verge of fainting if he didn’t hold himself together, the duke bit his tongue hard.
“Begone, woman.”
He swallowed the blood rising in his throat and barely managed to push her away. The countess, who had been filled with the expectation of seizing the position of duchess, stiffened at once.
“Oh my, my lord duke. That’s hardly courteous to a lady. You were the one who invited me here first, and now you would treat me so rudely!”
But there was one fact she had overlooked. The man who had sought her for a night’s amusement had not been Vihan. It had been Kyle fiar, wearing Vihan fiar’s face.
Unable to explain the truth in detail, the duke had offered only a curt apology—the least courtesy he could show to someone unjustly caught up in such a debacle.
“Forgive me. Tonight I have no taste for revelry.”
Even speaking that short, awkward sentence had made his head reel. He was clinging to consciousness by sheer force of will.
The agony and exhaustion crushed him mercilessly, yet he endured—for one reason only.
Luen.
When his life had been shrouded under oppressive storm clouds, she had appeared like a single miraculous beam of light.
With his heart already filled by her, he had no wish for meaningless entanglements. He would not do something shameful before Luen. Even if she herself would not care.
“Do you remember what I said at the end?”
The seductive voice of Countess Luna shattered his reverie. His blurred gaze sharpened on her. She twisted her body coyly, feigning bashfulness.
But the duke remembered well both the words she had left behind and the venom in her expression. Her attempt at maidenly modesty now was laughably out of place.
“To subject me to such humiliation—I shall remember this insult always!”
With that snort, she had risen from his bed, dressed, and stormed out. Only when the door slammed shut behind her had he allowed himself to lose consciousness.
The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, but at least he had preserved his chastity.
His lips twisted.
“So. Is this revenge, then?”
The woman he had once expelled from his bed had reappeared, now elevated to countess. Her husband had dared send men to abduct his wife. If all of this was their petty payback for that long-ago humiliation, then it was at least understandable.
“But you chose your opponent poorly. You would have done better to draw a sword against me.”
For then you could at least die cleanly.
Vihan felt the cold fury piling up within him as his hand drifted toward his sword. The blade hummed in resonance with his wrath, spilling a fierce energy into the air.
“What do you mean? Was it not Duke fiar himself who suddenly came to my estate today?”
But Countess Luna lowered her lashes demurely, feigning ignorance. The duke burned with impatience—not at her eyelashes trembling prettily like other men might find enticing, but because every wasted moment meant Luen remained missing, and his worry for her gnawed at him like madness.
“Enough. Name your price.”
He offered negotiation. With Luen held hostage, he was the weaker side. He intended to pay whatever they demanded, swiftly, and get her back safe.
“I truly don’t know what you mean, my lord.”
The countess waved her fan lightly, her face calm. The duke’s patience snapped. With a sweep of his sheathed sword—
BOOM!
The unleashed force struck the wall behind her, cracking stone. For a moment she stood stunned, then shrieked.
“Kyaaaah!”
“I told your husband already—I have no patience, countess. Speak.”
The duke advanced, growling. Gone was the coquette; the countess now trembled with tears in her eyes.
“Wh-what are you saying? Didn’t you come here because you still couldn’t forget me? Didn’t you break down this mansion to take me away?”
Her shrill voice grated against his ears. Clearly, she was utterly deluded.
“So, you want to know my heart? Fine! I’ll tell you!”
He couldn’t listen any longer.
“You.”
With a flick of his finger, Count Luna—who had been floating helplessly in the air all this time—drifted over beside them, like a balloon blown by the wind.
“Oh my! There you are.”
Only then did the countess notice him. The pitiful man had wet his trousers, trembling violently. Yet even now, his gaze remained fixed greedily on his wife’s curled lips.
The countess, meanwhile, only pinched her nose and stepped back, her eyes filled not with pity but with disdain.
“If you don’t want to be filleted alive in front of your wife, talk.”
The duke’s last thread of restraint snapped.
“U-ugh! Ghhk!”
“Husband! What did you do?”
The countess joined in, glaring at him as though he were the one obstructing her love with the duke.
“I-I…!”
Moments before the duke crushed the life from him, the count burst into tears and confessed the truth.
Not long after, all that remained in the count’s office were the stains of his disgrace—urine soaking the floor—and his wife, who looked at him with contempt.
“If I’d known the duke would come for me like this, I never would have married you! My life is ruined!”
The countess raved on shamelessly.
“I-I only wanted revenge. Hic. I heard the duke had once insulted my wife—so…”
“You! Don’t you dare blame me!”
At the mention of her name, she snapped furiously. Cowed, the count backtracked.
“N-no, that’s not it. I was jealous of you, my lord duke, and while I watched for a chance… I heard your carriage was headed this way…”
The motive didn’t matter. The duke only listened for what came next.
“W-when my wife was away, hiccup—I acted alone! My wife had nothing to do with it!”
Whether it had been his doing or a joint plot, the duke no longer cared. He lowered his sword to the floor.
“My wife wears a necklace designed to send me her location and condition if she ever leaves our estate or is in danger. No signal has reached me. Where is she?”
BOOM!
The floor cracked under his power. The count blanched, trembling.
“Th-there’s a secret chamber… handed down in my family! No mage can trace it…”
“At last, we’re making sense.”
The duke’s lips curved coldly. The sight only terrified the couple further.
Finally learning where Luen was, Vihan darted off like an arrow. Every second counted. From the moment he had realized she was gone, he had been tormenting himself.
“The tracking necklace alone wasn’t enough.”
If there were other secret chambers in the world, and she were hidden in one, he might lose her forever.
“That must never happen.”
If they intended to hide her away forever—he would never again leave her side. He would not endure another descent into the abyss, where sight and breath were stolen away.
Without realizing, his grip tightened and the count choked.
“Ghkk—c-can’t breathe…”
The duke didn’t care. The man’s life was only useful so long as he could open the secret chamber.
“Turn here… to the right…”
The count, quaking, led him on. The hallway ahead looked ordinary—but the duke soon felt the faint trace of mana blocking a section of wall. So faintly hidden that only a Sword Master—or one already aware of it—could perceive it.
Drrng—
The duke pressed a small notch in the wall. The stone shifted, revealing a hidden door. He shoved the count toward it.
“Open it.”
Crawling on hands and knees, the man muttered some words. The door creaked open.
“M-my lord… now, please, release me…”
The count looked back at him in supplication. But the duke didn’t spare him a glance. He lifted the man and hurled him aside.
CRASH!
His heavy body slammed down with a groan. Even in agony, his face showed only craven submission.
“Your punishment comes later. Try to flee if you like—you can’t. My barrier now covers your entire estate. Not even a rat could escape without my leave.”
The count shuddered at the warning. The duke didn’t wait to see. He rushed through the doorway.
“Luen!”
The cold edge in his voice had melted into desperation. The chamber was dark, but he found her instantly—just as one finds a star in the night sky.
“Your Grace?”
Her wrists and ankles bruised and raw, she looked pitiable. Her delicate voice spilled into the air, clear as jade beads rolling across a tray.
But as he strode forward to seize her in his arms, he stopped short. Something was wrong.
So fixated on her, he had let his guard down. He realized it a moment too late.
“Oh dear.”
Luen’s voice was calm, almost flat.
She had already freed herself from the ropes, apparently waiting to ambush the count upon his return. The thick wooden club in her hand swung reflexively toward the intruder.
