Episode 9
Eden looked like a big dog that had been barking fiercely to protect its owner, only to be scolded for being noisy—now sitting there sulking.
With a face that clearly said, “Master, that woman is a fake!” he hesitated, then finally changed the way he addressed me.
“It’s obvious why Lady Lydia wants to visit the grave. It’s too dangerous.”
All the confidence he had earlier was completely gone, and even his voice lacked any strength.
As Eden changed his tone, Castian’s sharp gaze softened as well.
“If it’s dangerous, I should keep her even closer.”
With that, Castian turned his head, clearly ending the conversation.
Eden, probably too shocked by Castian’s cold attitude, forgot to glare at me and stumbled out of the room.
As if nothing had happened, Castian quietly opened his book again.
Hovering awkwardly near him, I glanced at his expression before finally speaking.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me attend the funeral.”
Castian lifted his eyes from the book and looked at me.
It might’ve just been my imagination, but his blue eyes looked much warmer than before.
He set the book down, paused for a moment, and asked a vague question.
“Are you really okay?”
“What do you mean?”
I tilted my head, confused. What was okay? What wasn’t?
If anyone wouldn’t be okay with me attending the funeral, it would be Jonathan.
After all, the necromancer who toyed with his soul was now praying for his peace—like Eden said, even a dog would laugh at that.
As I recalled Jonathan and grew gloomy, Castian stared at me and finally answered his own question.
“If you’re okay, that’s enough.”
I didn’t even know what he meant, but I quietly went back to my spot on the sofa.
Time passed as I lazed around. Then, at sunset, Jonathan’s brief funeral began at the cemetery near the safe house.
The only attendees were Castian, Eden, a few people who seemed to be intelligence agents, and me.
They buried the coffin in a pre-dug grave, placed a small headstone, and each paid their respects in their own way.
Standing beside Castian, I closed my eyes and prayed for Jonathan’s soul.
When the priest in white finally began to read the eulogy, I understood what Castian’s question had truly meant.
If he asked me again now, I could confidently answer—
No. Not at all. I’m absolutely, completely not okay.
What is this? A psychic attack?
Each word of the eulogy felt like it was drilling into my skull.
Everyone else seemed fine, but I had a headache so intense I couldn’t even open my eyes.
Was it because I was a black mage? Was there holy power in the priest’s words?
Even though the prayer wasn’t directed at me, I felt like I was being crushed.
The pain was so severe I felt nauseous. I really just wanted to faint.
But if I showed how much I was suffering, it’d be like announcing to everyone that I was an evil necromancer.
If I got caught, I’d be done for—and Castian too.
So I clenched my teeth and endured.
I kept my head down to hide the pain on my face, and cold sweat trickled down my forehead, dripping from the tip of my nose.
Finally, the eulogy that seemed endless came to an end, and the tension drained from my body.
Just as my legs were about to give out, Castian grabbed my shoulders.
Too weak to resist, I leaned against his chest, and I heard him click his tongue above me.
The priest, unaware of the situation, approached with concern.
“Are you alright, miss?”
I nearly yelled, Yes, I’m fine, so please don’t come any closer!
Terrified on instinct, I burrowed into Castian’s arms, and he wrapped his large hand protectively around the back of my head.
“She’s just overcome with emotion,” he explained calmly.
“Oh no. She must be grieving deeply. Would you like me to take a look?”
Thankfully, the priest mistook my cold sweat for tears and reached out his hand.
I flinched, and Castian immediately lifted me in his arms and stepped back.
“No need. A little rest will do her good.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away. Limp in his arms, I felt like cheering in relief.
Still cradled in Castian’s arms, I was placed into the carriage.
Eden glanced at me while holding the door and asked Castian,
“Why are you doing this?”
“She overexerted herself trying to endure the holy power. That’s why I didn’t want to bring her.”
Castian clicked his tongue again.
Well, if I had known that, I wouldn’t have come either.
It would’ve helped to get a proper explanation beforehand.
Lydia’s memories warned about holy power, sure—but nothing detailed about this.
A eulogy for the dead shouldn’t feel like getting stabbed in the brain. What even is being a black mage?
“I heard high-level black mages can resist holy power. I guess Lady Lydia isn’t that strong yet.”
I squinted at Eden’s mocking tone.
He looked at me like I was the most pathetic thing in the world.
That smug little puppy.
Yes, Eden, I know how pathetic I look. Thanks for the reminder.
Even though my head was still pounding, I glared at him with everything I had.
He glared back, annoyed, but Castian pulled me closer in his arms.
My cheek was pressed firmly against his chest, ending my first-ever staring contest with Eden in the most anticlimactic way.
Castian spoke calmly while holding me.
“If she were that strong, everyone would’ve realized who she was.”
Eden didn’t reply after that, seemingly convinced.
The carriage door closed, and we began our return to the safe house.
Gradually, the nausea and headache faded.
Once I could think clearly again, I realized—this was the second time today Castian had carried me like a pillow.
Feeling awkward, I pushed gently against his chest.
“I’m fine now. You can put me down.”
Castian looked closely at my face, then placed me on the seat across from him.
“If it hurts that much, you should’ve told them not to bring a priest.”
“No, it wouldn’t be right to have Jonathan’s funeral without a proper eulogy.”
“Then you should’ve stepped out before the eulogy started.”
He scolded me with a stiff expression.
He was absolutely right—I had no excuse.
Good thing the priest mistook my sweat for tears. If he hadn’t, things could’ve gone terribly wrong.
Who knows? I might’ve ruined the male lead’s future and had my story axed midway.
The air in the carriage grew heavy.
I fidgeted with my fingers, sneaking glances at Castian’s face.
In the novel, he was described as expressionless—and in person, that was even more true.
Every face I’d seen from him so far ranged between a slight frown… and a deeper frown.
Even now—look at that. Completely unreadable.
Still, he didn’t seem angry, so I tried to break the heavy mood with a bright voice.
“Nobody noticed, so it’s fine… right?”
“I told you I’m not fine with it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one ever finds out.”
I smiled confidently, hoping he’d believe me.
Castian’s right eyebrow lifted slightly.
Was that… a good sign?
But instead of replying, he just let out a long sigh and turned to look out the window.
It would’ve been nice if he said “okay,” even as a lie—but compared to how he questioned and doubted me yesterday, this was huge progress.
The next morning, I woke up in Castian’s bed again.
I was sure I’d fallen asleep on the sofa last night, but apparently, I’d been moved during the night.
Rubbing my eyes, I saw Castian pretending to be absorbed in a book, only to glance up at me.
The sun was already high in the sky.
Embarrassed to be lying in someone else’s bed, I awkwardly greeted him.
“Did you sleep well?”
As soon as I said it, I realized my mistake.
“Wait—no. I mean, good morning.”
I quickly corrected myself, but Castian didn’t respond either way.
Instead, he called a servant to prepare breakfast.
Once the table was set, he stood up with a report in hand and sat across from me.
He didn’t make eye contact, but he stayed at the table until I finished eating.
He really was like a baguette of a man—hard on the outside, but there when it counted.
I struggled to hold back a smile as I ate.
Then suddenly, Eden burst in, looking like a puppy that had found a big, juicy bone.
“I found the Wandering Sage!”
