~Chapter 112~
“Th-this… what in the world…?”
I stuttered badly as soon as I saw the sender of the letter, making Damien frown deeply.
“Who is it? Is someone trying to bother you again—?”
“No, it’s the opposite! Look at this!”
Where I pointed, written in bold black ink, was—
[From, Author S. Frightening.]
When Damien saw the sender’s name, he too froze in place.
“Frightening… the author…?”
Yes. The S. Frightening. The unrivaled number one legend in horror novels, and both Damien’s and my favorite author.
Damien liked him so much that he had even become a financial patron—receiving unpublished manuscripts faster than anyone else.
And now… that legendary author had sent a letter addressed to me.
“It can’t be an impersonation, right…?”
“No. Look.”
Damien pointed to the seal on the envelope.
“This is the same seal he uses when sending me unpublished drafts. And the handwriting matches.”
That meant it was real—my favorite author had truly written to me.
“What on earth could this be about?”
My heart pounded as I broke the seal and carefully unfolded the letter.
The message began:
[To the Duchess of Maledictus,
Greetings. I am S. Frightening, author of horror novels.
I write to you because…]
I read eagerly, but then one line made my eyes fly wide.
[I wish to commission you for illustrations—]
“Illustrations?”
I gasped, my eyes sparkling.
Me? Illustrations for my favorite author’s novel?
“Isn’t this a dream come true?”
But wait… didn’t he already have a long-time illustrator?
Reading further, the reason appeared.
The previous illustrator had fallen ill and could no longer work. While searching for a replacement, the author had seen my self-portrait—covered with drawings of curses—and thought my style would suit his works perfectly.
It also helped that I was his fan… and the wife of his wealthy patron, Damien.
[So, though presumptuous, I humbly ask if you would take on the illustrations for my upcoming works.]
“How could I refuse?!”
To draw illustrations for my most beloved author’s books… it felt like a miracle.
“This is wonderful news.”
Damien’s face lit up with a truly happy smile.
“It seems he was deeply impressed by your art, Ruby. The skeleton, those eerie twins, the long-haired woman—you captured fear, yet strangely stirred sympathy in the viewer. He said he was moved by that.”
“That’s… the highest praise!”
My chest swelled with joy, and I hugged the letter tightly to me.
But soon, worry crept in.
“But… what if I can’t do well? If the style feels too different from the old illustrator, readers might dislike it.”
“Ruby, I understand. But don’t worry too much.”
Damien wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gently patted me.
“You have a gift. Whatever you draw, people end up loving it.”
His soft smile reassured me.
“Everyone will surely love your illustrations too.”
His words warmed my heart, easing my fear.
“Thank you… for saying that.”
I clutched the letter again and made a promise.
“I’ll make sure to live up to this.”
“That’s my Ruby.”
“I’d better write back right away.”
I immediately sent a reply, accepting with honor and asking for the conditions.
“What a wonderful way to start the week. I’m glad.”
Damien spoke, though his tone was quieter now.
I knew why. He was happy about my commission, yet deep inside he was still weighed down by the truth of my short lifespan.
The shock hadn’t fully left him yet.
So I made an effort to lift the mood.
“This month is our favorite, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why such good things are happening.”
I spoke cheerfully, my voice full of excitement.
“Because soon… it’s Halloween.”
Halloween—when dead souls return, and all kinds of beings not of this world roam the night.
Other nobles didn’t celebrate it much, but the House of Maledictus was different.
“Yes, indeed.”
For Maledictus, their ancestors’ souls manifested as ghostly butterflies, and even bones moved during soul contract rites. The ancestors’ influence still lingered strongly in their mansion.
That’s why the Maledictus family celebrated Halloween grandly. Even the servants wore costumes and joined the fun.
“Now that I think of it, we should prepare for Halloween soon. I haven’t told you yet how it works here, have I?”
“No, not yet.”
“As you know, we’ll soon be performing the final stage of the soul contract.”
Damien explained calmly.
“There shouldn’t be many obstacles, but it’s best if everything flows smoothly.”
He spread out a piece of parchment and began sketching the mansion.
“This tower here is where we’ll perform the contract. I’ll draw the magic circle on the rooftop.”
He tapped the top of the tower with his pen.
“On Halloween, ghost butterflies gather more than any other time. We’ll head to the circle, bring the butterflies with us, then enjoy the Halloween party together.”
He explained that leading the butterflies into the festivities was like dancing with their ancestors’ souls—entertaining them. That way, their spirits would grow kinder, and the third rite would become easier with their help.
“Now that you mention it, the butterflies appeared in the second rite too.”
So this year’s Halloween party wasn’t only for fun—it was also part of preparing for the third rite.
“The butterflies might play tricks on you, but nothing unbearable.”
“That’s fine. They’ve never shown me illusions before.”
“I’ll ask them to go easy on the new bride.”
And so, we laid out the plan for Halloween.
Maybe then… the purple moon will finally rise.
According to Damien, the purple moon appeared most often about a month and a half after the second rite—and that happened to be Halloween night.
If the moon rises that night, it will be perfect.
Excited, I asked:
“Damien, what will you dress up as for the party?”
“Hmm, I’ll have to think.”
“What did you do last year?”
“Last year, I was a werewolf. Just put on a fur coat, simple.”
“I see.”
His clear amethyst eyes locked onto me.
“And what will you dress as, Rubyana?”
“Hmm… I’ve never thought about it.”
I had always wanted to try dressing up for Halloween, but my frail body had kept me bedridden all my life.
“What about something cute? Like a snow fairy…”
“A fairy? Oh, come on. At my age? That would be ridiculous.”
I laughed and nudged his shoulder.
“This is Halloween—we should go with something truly scary!”
Ideas filled my mind, my excitement growing. But strangely, Damien’s expression dimmed.
“Damien? What’s wrong?”
His voice carried faint disappointment as he forced a smile.
“No, it’s nothing…”
What was that about? Why did he look so… sad?
* * *
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Palace—
Inside a room, a man with golden hair was absorbed in his work.
His eyes, sunken from sleepless nights, glared as he chanted a forbidden ancient spell.
From his fingertips, not golden, but red magic burst forth.
He directed that magic toward a single strand of black hair resting in a glass dish.
This time… it has to work…!
His anticipation rose as the red magic reached for the hair.
But then—
CRASH!
The magic didn’t touch the black hair—it struck only the dish.
The dish shattered violently, unable to withstand the force.
Leonard stared coldly at the broken fragments.
Even this doesn’t work?
He had tried forbidden sorcery, dark magic, even ordinary spells.
Nothing could sever that strand of black hair.
His suspicious eyes narrowed.
“Just what… is this woman?”
