CHAPTER 24
Leonhardt sucked in a sharp breath. A sudden flash of light erupted at the far end of the corridor—exactly where Celine was standing.
What was that?
For a heartbeat, everything vanished.
The soft glow from Celine’s magic, the reflection on her golden hair, even that mysterious burst of light—all gone.
Silence pressed down on Leonhardt like a weight.
He could hear nothing except the harsh drag of his own breathing and his heartbeat pounding out of control.
He sprinted toward the spot where Celine had been.
“Celine!”
She was still there.
But she stood trembling violently, like someone who had seen something they were never meant to witness.
Inside the jeweled box was… a single key.
Celine stared at the palm-sized object, stunned. Even in the dark, it gleamed with blinding brilliance.
This wasn’t right.
The reward for clearing the first stage was supposed to be:
potions that restored her health and a pendant needed for the next stage.
But instead—a key? To what?
What is this supposed to open? Something ahead?
But the passage ahead was sealed off.
— Clatter.
The jewel box slipped from her hands and snapped shut on the floor.
Despair washed through her.
No matter how skilled she was with magic, without knowledge of the game’s mechanics, she would never have cleared this stage. She wouldn’t have even thought to jump from the edge of the roof.
She had assumed that if she kept solving the following stages the same way as the game, the curse would eventually break.
But the moment she saw this bizarre reward, everything unraveled.
How was she supposed to clear the next stage without the pendant?
Celine wasn’t even sure anymore whether this world truly matched Celine’s Nightmare, the game she remembered.
“…Can I come closer?”
She turned around instead of answering.
Leonhardt’s face emerged from the lantern light—sharp, chiseled, unreal.
Her eyes stung.
Right. I’m not alone. Leonhardt is here.
Leonhardt, the villain of Celine’s Nightmare.
As long as he existed, this had to be the world of the game.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked softly.
Celine swallowed down the urge to cry. “I’m fine.”
“What was that light just now?”
She conjured a small orb of light and pointed it toward the floor. The fallen jewel box lay there.
Click.
The box opened again, and the key shone brightly. Celine picked it up.
Maybe it wasn’t needed right away. But no game would give a completely useless item.
— BOOM!
A deafening roar shook the world. Leonhardt immediately pulled her into his arms.
The next thing Celine knew, they were lying outside on solid ground. She pushed herself up.
The mansion looked unchanged, but she instinctively knew what had happened.
Stage cleared.
The first stage was finally over.
And yet, she was left with a giant mystery.
As she stared down at the key digging into her palm, a large shadow fell over her.
Leonhardt.
“What is this?”
He took the key and examined it, baffled.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Wasn’t this the whole point of coming here?”
He returned it and watched her expression darken.
“I only came because… I saw it in a dream. But this isn’t what was supposed to appear. Something else should’ve—”
Pfft.
“…?”
Leonhardt suddenly laughed—unexpected and abrupt—startling her so much that her tears vanished.
He quickly masked his expression with stern composure. “Didn’t I tell you? Prophecies can’t be trusted.”
Celine closed her mouth. She couldn’t explain the truth.
“If you’re panicking because your dream was wrong,” he continued, “then doesn’t that mean you believed it would really happen? And that makes it a prophecy, doesn’t it?”
“…”
“Do you know why I don’t believe in prophecies?”
“No?”
Celine blinked, not understanding where he was going with this.
“When I was born, every prophet in the Empire flocked to the North,” Leonhardt said casually. “They claimed I had to be killed.”
Celine’s eyes widened in horror.
“Apparently, I would destroy my family and bring disaster to the Empire.”
He spoke as if discussing someone else entirely.
“They were beaten and sent away. And look at me now. Do I look like I’m fulfilling any prophecy?”
Celine said nothing.
Because she knew that prophecy was true.
The truth—one she had stubbornly avoided—hit her like a slap.
She’d been focused on escaping her cursed deaths, on surviving. She never let herself look directly at the bigger reality.
This is Celine’s Nightmare. Leonhardt himself proves it.
And in five years, Leonhardt becomes a madman who tries to kill her.
She had convinced herself that Leonhardt and the Bernui estate had simply changed from the game.
How foolish she’d been.
She had been avoiding the truth.
Five years from now—maybe sooner—Leonhardt will descend into madness, and Bernui Castle will turn into a haunted ruin.
Leonhardt steadied her dazed body with a gentle grip.
“Celine, the future can always change. Don’t rely on foresight.”
“…Leonhardt.”
She stared into his blue eyes. All she saw there was concern—warm, genuine concern. No hint of the insanity she knew he would one day succumb to.
She swallowed hard.
Leonhardt was wrong.
His existence only confirmed that the prophecy was real.
But something else could prove fate wrong.
Celine clenched the key.
She would not let Leonhardt become the monster she remembered.
What seemed useless moments ago now shone with possibility.
She would follow wherever this key led—and change the future.
Leonhardt’s voice was firm. “Let’s leave. This place is evil.”
“Wait.”
He followed her silently toward the mansion entrance.
Celine inhaled deeply. The mansion radiated malice—the same malice that had crushed her over and over and stolen the life of a child.
“Are you sure? Your mana—” he began.
“Luca’s with me,” she replied.
She raised her hand toward the mansion. A massive wall of ice began crawling up the structure.
Blocking the entrance wasn’t enough. She had seen animal corpses trapped inside—proof that anything entering this place died.
No more lives would be consumed here.
No matter how small or insignificant.
So she pushed herself past exhaustion, creating a massive dome of ice that sealed the entire mansion.
With winter’s cold, it wouldn’t melt for months. She would figure out how to permanently destroy the mansion by then.
“Ha…”
She gasped, out of breath.
Leonhardt approached and swept the damp hair from her forehead.
“You did well.”
“I should’ve done this from the beginning.”
He didn’t answer.
The next morning, they arrived at the royal residence—Liveron Castle.
Compared to the eerie Bernui estate, Liveron was dazzling: towering marble fountains, gold-trimmed statues, intricate mosaics covering the floors.
“Do you like it?” Leonhardt asked.
She nearly blurted out that it was the most stunning building she’d ever seen, but remembered who she was speaking to and instead said, “I’ve never been to a royal palace before.”
Leonhardt gave her a look that said he didn’t believe a word.
A court official approached them.
“Celine Lute. I’ve heard quite a bit about you from His Highness Ricardo. It’s an honor.”
“Ah—likewise…”
Celine blinked in confusion. She’d never met the crown prince. Why would he talk about her?
Her question was answered moments later when they entered the prince’s office.
Prince Ricardo was a man in his forties. His lips smiled, but his eyes were cold enough to cut glass.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” Celine recited, using the greeting Dani had taught her.
The prince’s gaze narrowed.
“So you’re the northern lady. The one Leonhardt dragged along after threatening me.”
“Your Highness!” Leonhardt blurted, visibly flustered. “I only requested—”
“I’m joking.”
But his eyes weren’t joking.
Celine immediately understood—he was provoking Leonhardt. She was leverage, a weapon to use against him.
I won’t be your weak point.
The prince’s tone grew stiff.
“Let’s get to the point. Dark magic traces have appeared throughout the palace. His Majesty now suspects my people. But listen carefully—this isn’t bias.”
“Speak freely, sir,” Leonhardt said.
“The culprit isn’t one of mine.”
He fell silent, staring at them expectantly.
Celine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he didn’t want to suspect his own people. But if he wanted to make claims, shouldn’t he offer evidence?
Leonhardt sighed. “I understand your irritation, but His Majesty gave the order—”
“Investigate. I’m simply informing you that it’s pointless.”
The prince waved the matter off.
“At any rate, I’ll make your work easier. You may use Lashir.”
Leonhardt froze.
“Your Highness… you mean—”
“If Lashir cuts a dark mage, their blood runs black, does it not?”
“Yes, but—”
The prince cut him off.
“A small slice will be enough to confirm guilt. Better than wasting the whole winter searching blindly.”
“Most suspects are high nobles,” Leonhardt said through clenched teeth. “They’ll never agree to being cut. And Lashir—you know what it does.”
Only then did Celine fully understand the prince’s demand.
Leonhardt wouldn’t even let her touch Lashir, the sword in his scabbard—because even a tiny wound inflicted agonizing pain beyond anything imaginable.
And the prince wanted to force his own retainers to endure that torment.
“They will obey my command,” the prince said flatly.
Leonhardt hesitated… then bowed.
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
