Chapter 19
On the opposite side of the door where Lydia leaned her back, Castian stood in the same posture.
What if it wasn’t?
If he had asked her that again, would she have answered?
If she had said it wasn’t a lie—that she truly had fallen in love with him—what would he have said?
He was desperate to know Lydia’s heart. Yet, there was only one reason Castian could not bring himself to ask.
Because he could not deny that his love had begun with the Soul-Binding Spell wrapped around his very soul.
Even after his resurrection, he had told her not to lift the Soul-Binding Spell for that reason.
He feared that once it was undone, this feeling might disappear as if it had never been.
And so, he could not confess.
“Everything in me loves you” — what if those words turned into a lie the moment the spell was gone?
He didn’t want to lose her.
But at the same time, he couldn’t keep living forever without knowing if his feelings were genuine or just the trickery of black magic.
A heavy, melancholy sigh sank to the floor.
At the far end of the long corridor where Castian’s worries stretched like shadows, Iden came to find him.
Iden, misunderstanding the reason for the shadow over his lord’s face, asked gloomily:
“Did the Duchess scold you badly, my lord?”
“Why would my mother?”
“Because of the failed expedition. I thought you were reprimanded.”
The words pulled Castian’s mind toward something he had momentarily forgotten.
The failed expedition.
The first failure in his entire life.
“Mistakes are fine. But failure is not. You are a Bernstein.”
He had heard that endlessly for sixteen years, ever since stepping foot into the Duke of Bernstein’s household.
He didn’t want to be thrown out—he wanted his mother’s approval.
So he had always lived compulsively calculating and planning every move.
Every step felt like a test.
He had feared that failure would make Ellicia furious. Yet today, her reaction had been unexpectedly mild.
“Not much. It was fine.”
“I knew the Duchess would understand your circumstances, my lord!”
Iden had been anxious ever since Castian was summoned by Ellicia, fully aware of how strict she was with him.
Castian also knew his loyal subordinate had been worried for him.
Ellicia’s understanding was, in truth, for other reasons, but Castian didn’t bother to correct him.
The relief was short-lived. Iden’s expression suddenly darkened.
“My lord… someone from the imperial palace has arrived. They say it’s an imperial summons.”
Unwelcome news—more so because it could not be avoided.
Castian’s face hardened.
“I’ll meet them in my room.”
“Yes, my lord. I’ll tell them.”
“Also, Iden… I’m thinking of assigning you to guard Lydia.”
“Truly? Please leave it to me!”
Iden thumped his chest with enthusiasm.
As far as he was concerned, he was the only one who knew exactly what kind of relationship his lord had with Lydia.
To guard his lord’s love with his life—that was a knight’s duty.
It was also proof that Castian trusted him.
Castian gave a small laugh and patted Iden’s shoulder twice. Iden’s simple heart swelled with loyalty.
Moments later, Castian faced the imperial attendant sent by Emperor Michael.
“His Majesty commands you to come to the palace. A lady named Lydia is also summoned.”
He had expected a summons for himself—but not for Lydia.
How much does he know?
Castian’s brow furrowed as his fingers tapped sharply against the desk.
When he remained silent, the attendant urged him:
“Duke Bernstein?”
“Tell His Majesty I’ll enter the palace tomorrow.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Turning his head away, Castian dismissed the attendant.
Even after the man left, the sound of his fingers drumming against the desk continued for some time.
The archbishop who had asked about Marcus’s whereabouts.
The mage guarding the magic guild.
Count Pilgrin, the innkeeper and his employees.
It was possible that someone in the expedition had let something slip.
The Emperor had no shortage of eyes and ears.
If the Emperor already knew Lydia was a necromancer, there was no telling what unreasonable demands he might make.
And worst of all—he could not refuse an imperial summons.
After parting with Castian, I spent my time idly in the empty room.
There was nothing to do.
I could hear people coming and going in the room next door, but none of them were looking for me.
Searching for Marcus with Castian had at least been eventful, but now… it hit me again—I was truly alone in this world.
I was just thinking I might try talking to Iden outside my door when—
The door suddenly swung open, and a group of women rushed in.
“W-what is this?”
“Lady Lydia, we heard you need a dress.”
“What? A dress? For me?”
“You’re scheduled to have an audience with His Majesty tomorrow, aren’t you? The Duchess has provided all the new dresses she purchased for you. We can’t make an entirely new one in time, but we can adjust the fit.”
The woman with a large pincushion strapped to her wrist spoke in a rapid-fire rush that left me dizzy.
“Wait, wait—what am I doing tomorrow?”
“An audience. You’ll be meeting His Majesty the Emperor.”
“The Emperor?!”
Why on earth would I be meeting the Emperor?!
“Oh my, you didn’t know?”
“I haven’t told her yet.”
A familiar, welcome voice came from the doorway—Castian, appearing like a savior to rescue me from women armed with needles and measuring tapes.
I meant to demand an explanation, but he was quickly blocked by the woman with the pincushion.
“Ah, so you haven’t told her yet, my lord. But we really must hurry, so could you step outside for just a bit?”
And just like that, Castian was unceremoniously pushed out.
Once he was gone, I surrendered without resistance to the measuring tape and needles.
After taking my measurements, the women disappeared as abruptly as they had arrived.
Only then could Castian re-enter my room.
He hesitated briefly, then curved his lips in a faint smile.
“Lydia, will you dine with me tonight?”
The delicately curved smile was beautiful—but that wasn’t the point right now. Dinner could wait.
“My lord, why am I meeting the Emperor?”
“His Majesty summoned you.”
“Why? How does he even know who I am?”
I was just a lowly necromancer—why would the Emperor, of all people, summon me?
I asked urgently, but Castian only shook his head.
He didn’t know either.
Gnawing my nails, I asked a more pressing question:
“Can a black magician even meet the Emperor?”
“Officially, no. Black magicians are criminals by definition, and criminals cannot have an audience with the Emperor.”
“Then he must not know I’m a necromancer, right?”
“It seems that way… but he’s a man whose mind is impossible to read.”
His unfinished words left an ominous feeling.
Even if the Emperor didn’t know, I couldn’t relax.
What if he suddenly said, “Aha! You’re a black magician, aren’t you?”
Then I’d be punished. But punished how?
Imprisonment? Beatings? Surely not execution… right?
Horrible images flashed through my head, and my eyes prickled with tears.
I’d thought black magicians were just looked down on—but to be a criminal simply for being one?
What kind of murderous world was this?!
I suddenly wanted to grab the author of this story by the collar and demand an explanation.
Instead, I grabbed Castian’s sleeve.
“If they find out I’m a necromancer… will I die?”
The moment the words left my mouth, Castian’s eyes changed.
Like a stormy sea, a killing intent surged in his gaze, and blue smoke-like energy began to writhe around his shoulders.
“No one will harm you.”
Even his voice turned cold.
Startled by the force of it, I took a step back. But he continued, biting off each word as though containing his rage:
“No one. Not even the Emperor.”
“All right, my lord. I understand your feelings, so please calm down.”
I gripped his hands where the blue aura was swirling, afraid he might march straight to the palace with a sword.
The blue haze faded from where my hands touched, and Castian slowly lowered his head.
He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand and spoke in a voice that still trembled:
“This much I can say with certainty, Lydia. I will protect you. Always.”
This was bad.
I had promised myself not to hope… yet my heart trembled on its own.
