Chapter 28
“Ah, well… um… I mean…”
Uncharacteristically flustered, the duke led me toward the back of the carriage.
There, I saw a pile of gift boxes stacked high.
Gift boxes?
Duke Clasta cleared his throat and said,
“The Clasta dukedom is rich.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I’m rich too.”
“?”
Owell, the duke’s adjutant, gripped his clothes in frustration as he watched the duke spout nonsense.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Why would you say it like that?
All he had to say was: I bought these for you! They’re gifts! If you go shopping with me, I’ll spend this freely again, so take me along next time!
That would have been enough.
You’re usually so good at talking nonsense with a smile—why is this so hard now?
I should have known from the way he made a fuss in the clothing store earlier.
“What, one decent outfit should do. You’ll need it anyway when meeting other nobles.”
But as soon as he stepped into the store, his attitude changed completely.
“If your hair is sky-blue, how about this blue dress? It’s a dignified design, perfect for slightly formal occasions.”
“That will do. I’ll take it.”
“And since you’re still young, this yellow one will suit you brightly and cheerfully.”
“Buy that one too.”
“By the way, Your Grace, your daughter must be absolutely adorable!”
“Hmph, well… not because she’s my daughter, but she’s better than most.”
“No wonder. I’ve heard rumors—your daughter is clever and an exceptional swordswoman!”
Normally, Duke Clasta could instantly see through flattery and lies with cold logic.
But now, distracted by the clerk’s service chatter, he answered contentedly,
“I’ll take them all.”
The smile on the clerk’s face was worth a fortune.
And yet, after spending so freely…
“So, the truth is…”
The duke sighed, then suddenly turned his head and said,
“They’re gifts.”
“Gifts?”
“Yes.”
Ariel looked back and forth between the gifts and the duke in disbelief.
Then she broke into a radiant smile.
“Thank you.”
That smile brought a satisfied grin to the duke’s own face.
In all the decades Owell had known him, he had never seen that expression before.
Owell thought back to the old Duke Clasta.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. No—don’t forgive me. I’m sorry I lived when you didn’t. It’s my fault. Please…
Back then, he didn’t even know who stood before him. He just begged and begged.
Those days had been hell for the duke, and for everyone else in the ducal household.
Compared to that, even if he’s frustrating now, this is better.
“Daughter, shall we have dinner out tonight? You said this morning you wanted lamb, didn’t you?”
The duke walked away holding Ariel close.
Owell quietly followed behind them.
Someone, hidden, watched them in silence.
A few days later, an invitation from the Third Prince arrived for Ariel.
“Your Holiness, did your trip go well?”
When Regan entered the papal chambers, the priest cleaning the room hurriedly bowed.
Regan stared at the polished table and said,
“Filthy. Are you sure you cleaned this properly?”
“P–pardon?”
He ran a finger over the surface.
“There’s still dust, isn’t there?”
The table was spotless, but Regan was simply looking for fault.
“You must be neglecting the Church’s work because your heart is full of darkness! Did someone order you to harm me?”
It was pure nonsense to anyone listening.
But Regan was the Pope, and the man before him was just a lowly priest.
Faced with the furious rebuke from someone so far above him, the priest prostrated himself.
“N–no, Your Holiness! I would never harm you! I’ll clean it again! Please forgive me!”
“Forgive you? And then what mischief would you cause next? No… I’ll have to ask your body directly whether you harbor wicked thoughts.”
Regan opened a drawer and took out a whip.
“Your Holiness! I was wrong! Please forgive me just this once! I won’t do it again!”
Seeing the priest begging with clasped hands made a cruel smile curl on Regan’s lips.
Yes, this is how it should be.
He was the Pope, the hero who had slain the Evil Dragon.
Everyone ought to praise him.
That was the stage he had prepared for himself.
But that wretched girl had ruined it all.
‘Yes, next time a stronger monster appears, I’ll do that.’
Just remembering the way the Duke of Clasta’s daughter had smiled as she said that made his blood boil.
He was the one who had killed the demon.
She had been on the verge of death, and when he saved her, she should have been overwhelmed with gratitude.
Instead, that arrogant brat—!
He had gone out of his way to slay the monster and save others, only for her to steal his glory.
No respect or reverence for the Pope at all.
Especially those red eyes of hers.
So insolent they infuriated him.
“Your Holiness, please… spare me…”
By the time he came back to his senses from lashing the priest, the man was a wreck at his feet.
Seeing him beg as if only Regan could grant salvation did ease his mood a little.
Before long, the priest stopped breathing.
“Tsk.”
At the ring of a bell, a Holy Knight in white armor entered.
Without a word, the knight began quietly cleaning up the bloody corpse.
Regan stepped into an inner room and activated a communicator.
On the other side, the red-haired Temir appeared.
From the background screams, it seemed he was in the middle of an experiment.
[Master, what brings you here? The test subject died just fine.]
“Yes, it died.”
He thought killing the priest had relieved his anger, but his fury rose again.
“Temir, didn’t you say it would be a demon no one could defeat? That without the orb in my possession, no one could kill it?”
The plan had been simple:
A monster appears in the capital, killing people.
The Pope arrives and saves them.
The foolish masses shower him with praise.
Everyone in that square—including the Duke of Clasta’s daughter—was supposed to die.
That way, his name would shine brighter.
But thanks to that little brat, only two people had died.
Only two!
‘Guess it wasn’t that strong.’
‘So why did the Pope even bother coming?’
Hearing those words after they left had been humiliating.
“A girl not even ten years old stopped it. Did you send me a weakling on purpose?”
[W–what? Impossible. It would have taken someone of Duke Clasta’s caliber to handle it.]
“So you’re saying that brat is Duke Clasta himself?!”
When Regan roared, Temir shut his mouth.
“Take out your dagger.”
[M–Master…]
“Now.”
Temir drew a dagger and stabbed his own thigh.
[Ugh!]
“This is your last chance. Fail me again, and I’ll punish you personally.”
[U–understood.]
Temir’s cold sweat dripped.
Moments like this always reminded Regan of the Evil Dragon’s daughter he had killed thirty years ago.
She was so competent.
If she’d lived, he wouldn’t have to struggle to decipher the Evil Dragon’s research notes.
Locking her in a box and watching her pale as she begged had been such fun.
What color were her eyes again?
He couldn’t quite remember.
Not that it matters.
She was dead, and her corpse would be rotting somewhere.
He had no reason to recall such trivial things.
“I suppose it’s time I contacted my family. I’ll tell them to crush that insolent brat properly.”
Of course, there was something else to do first.
A wicked smile played on his lips.
“What is the meaning of this?! A monster? In the capital?! How could such a thing happen—what were the guards doing?!”
The emperor’s fury made the nobles rush to speak.
“Your Majesty, please calm yourself. It transformed suddenly—difficult even for the knights to detect.”
“Calm down? A monster in the heart of the capital—how can I calm down?”
“Please don’t scold the knights too harshly, Your Majesty.”
Pope Regan spoke in a calm, gentle voice.
At his intervention, the emperor sat down, still fuming, and let out a deep sigh.
“It’s fortunate Your Holiness was present. We narrowly avoided disaster. I’d heard your health kept you from monster hunts, but seeing your prowess today proves those rumors false.”
“You flatter me. I’m just glad there were few casualties. However, I have something to say about the creature…”
The unusual gravity in his tone silenced the room.
“Does anyone here recognize the monster?”
“It was unlike anything I’ve seen…”
“The Holy See suspects it was a demon.”
All color drained from the nobles’ faces.
Who could forget the Evil Dragon’s most horrific creation—humans turned into monsters, fully under its control?
“Only high-class monsters could speak, and the transformation from human to beast… all hallmarks of a demon.”
The atmosphere grew tense.
“Do you believe the Evil Dragon has returned, Your Holiness?”
“It’s a possibility.”
At his words, the room erupted.
“That’s… impossible! Didn’t you strike down its heart yourself, and kill its daughter who infiltrated the subjugation force? The dragon’s corpse was burned, the daughter’s body left for beasts—how could it return?”
“Indeed. And just because a monster similar to the dragon’s minions appears doesn’t mean the dragon itself lives!”
“This incident alone is not the point. This is the Holy See’s conclusion after independent investigation.”
“Even so, isn’t it too soon to claim the dragon is back?”
The emperor asked, and Regan smiled.
“Yes. If it were the dragon, it would have conquered the continent far more boldly and cruelly—not sending one monster to cause minor chaos…”
His gaze swept the chamber.
“…but killing everyone in the capital.”
“So, someone is imitating the dragon’s deeds.”
“Exactly,” Regan agreed.
The emperor exhaled deeply.
“Do you have a plan, Your Holiness?”
“For now, the Holy See will handle it independently. However… this is a grave matter, and we lack manpower.”
The nobles instantly understood: He’s asking for money and soldiers.
But with the specter of the Evil Dragon’s legacy, no one could refuse.
After the meeting, they whispered among themselves:
“The Pope is lucky. I heard his power in the Holy See had waned, but this will restore it.”
“They were saying the next pope would be someone else. But now… he’ll remain in office.”
“What can we do? The dragon’s shadow has appeared.”
Regan secretly smiled as he overheard them.
This worked perfectly.
Thirty years had passed since the dragon’s death.
He’d been criticized for years of inaction, but now, with fear of the dragon revived, they would turn to him again.
And they don’t even know I controlled that monster. Fools.
Outwardly serene, he soothed the people.
For a while, I toured the capital’s best eateries with the duke.
We’d enjoy a fine lunch, sit in a sunny café lost in thought, and share desserts he bought.
The Clasta chef was talented, but the capital’s restaurants had their own charm.
Today, we were supposed to go to that apple pie place together…
Crispy waffles fresh from the oven, topped with rich cream and sweet apple jam… resisting that temptation, I instead arrived at the Third Prince’s imperial tea party.
To cure Luni’s illness and start a trading company, I needed to win the martial arts tournament and claim the Charan Flower.
Winning meant knowing my opponents—basic strategy.
So I gladly accepted the prince’s invitation to gauge the skill of the noble children competing.
That one needs more training—too many openings on the left.
That one has a great frame. With ten years of steady training, he’ll be famous.
Wow, that boy’s young but already skilled. Must have both talent and dedication.
Nibbling on the snacks laid out, I observed the attendees.
Then someone approached me.
Good potential, but poorly trained.
I recognized him from the documents Owell had shown me beforehand.
Bamal Conrad.
Second son of the Marquis of Conrad—famous for his violent, arrogant temper.
He’d even wounded commoner children who defied him, though his family had covered it up.
“He’s one of the people you must be most careful of, my lady! He’ll definitely pick a fight because of your background!”
I remembered Owell’s noisy warning.
And what had the duke said back then?
“This is why you don’t invite commoners to parties. All they do is eat like pigs.”
Bamal snatched the plate from in front of me and said,
“Want more? Then oink for it. Pigs live to eat, right? Puhahaha!”
As he laughed, the children around him joined in.
Ah, now I remember what the duke said.
‘Do whatever you want. I’ll handle the aftermath.’
