Chapter 9
“Why the Duke of Retel?”
“Oh my, you really haven’t heard yet?”
“What is it? Don’t stall—just tell me.”
The young ladies, fond of gossip, couldn’t contain themselves and pressed her.
“They say Lady Charlize of the Retel Ducal House has vanished without a trace.”
The noblewoman who carried the rumor lowered her voice, but the young ladies who heard it only grew more agitated.
“What?! Lady Charlize?”
“Oh dear, you truly didn’t know? A few mornings ago, her maid went to her room and found the bed already empty.”
“Heavens, could she have been kidnapped?”
“Well, if it were kidnapping, surely there would have been some demand. But it seems no trace of her has been found, even now.”
The nobles’ chatter grew distant in Artipe’s ears.
His heart pounded, breath turning rough. He couldn’t keep his composure.
Suppressing the urge to storm out that very moment, Artipe drained his wine in one gulp.
“The Young Duke Leandro Retel of the Ducal House of Retel enters!”
At the herald’s booming voice, every noble in the banquet hall turned toward the doors.
Artipe, too, fixed his sharpened gaze upon the entrance.
“He seems to have come alone. Imagine, the family head of a ducal house absent from His Majesty’s birthday banquet.”
“Well, being the duke, he can afford not to come. But the young duke’s face—he looks so worn.”
“Still handsome, though. If anything, I find him even more attractive than usual.”
“Yes, that brilliant silver hair and that shadowed face have a strangely decadent charm… oh, listen to me. Hoho.”
Artipe’s eyes fell upon Leandro’s hair.
Silver, like Charlize’s.
Her hair never lost its brilliance, even in such a dazzling hall. Rather, it stole the gaze of those long accustomed to precious things.
She had first revealed herself to the capital two springs ago.
“Your Excellency, the day has finally come.”
“What day?”
Inside the palace ballroom, unlike the excited Allen, Artipe replied with a flat expression.
“Good grief, how many times have I told you? Today Lady Charlize of the Retel House makes her debut!”
“And?”
Artipe sipped his wine. Dull as the banquet was, at least the imperial wine tasted fine enough. Without it, this would’ve been unbearable.
Not that he didn’t still want to escape.
“They say she’s a stunning beauty! Practically radiant! Rumor has it someone was blinded by that light!”
“Nonsense.”
Allen grew animated over a ridiculous rumor.
How was this fool his aide?
Artipe seriously considered firing him when Allen burst into another fuss.
“It just means she’s very beautiful! Anyway, the point is, she’s a beauty!”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“You never know! She’s been frail since birth, confined to the estate, but she’s recovered now. Isn’t it wise to keep possibilities open?”
Artipe, who had been disinterested, at last asked with a hint of curiosity.
“How exactly did she recover?”
She had no specific illness, no constant agony.
She simply couldn’t live as others did; even slight exertion would put her bedridden.
Like a candle flickering on the verge of going out.
“No one knows. Not the priests, not the doctors, not even the lady herself. She said she simply awoke one morning and felt as though she had been reborn.”
A person who had, just last year, suddenly recovered overnight.
“Reborn…”
Artipe murmured.
‘Impossible.’
He didn’t know what means she’d used, but it warranted investigation.
If there were some special method, perhaps his own curse of turning into a wolf could be cured.
“The Young Duke Leandro Retel and Lady Charlize Retel enter!”
“At last!”
Allen made a great fuss, eyes fixed on the door.
Everyone in the ballroom awaited this entrance.
Some for the beauty whispered of in rumors, others for new prey in the social circle.
And Artipe, too, for the first time, looked toward an entrance with genuine interest.
If there were a way to stop becoming a wolf, he would do anything.
‘Things are about to get noisier.’
Even before Charlize appeared, the rising commotion made Artipe frown.
“Ah…”
But when Charlize finally stepped forth, the expected uproar never came.
Instead, with one last gasp, the hall fell utterly silent. Only the soft music drifted through the air.
“….”
Artipe, too, could only widen his eyes in silence.
At the grand ballroom’s doors stood Charlize, and above her head, the crescent moon seemed to rise.
Her silver hair, bathed in moonlight, gleamed with a white radiance.
Snow-pale skin, a mermaid-line gown of purest white embroidered with delicate diamonds.
Could night itself have a better companion? And yet her eyes, as clear as the sky in spring, drew Artipe into a bright, fresh day.
She stepped forward into the frozen silence.
“G-good evening, my lady!”
One bold young noble approached, and belatedly others found their senses and swarmed to her.
Moments ago silent as death, the hall became a bustling market.
“Your Excellency! Did you see her?!”
Allen shrieked in delight.
Artipe couldn’t even summon his usual curt reply.
Charlize was beautiful—far beyond what rumor could capture.
But beauty alone couldn’t explain the feelings welling up.
His heart ached, overwhelmed, and he longed to run to her, to seize her in his arms so she could never flee.
“Your Excellency! Now’s not the time to stand still!”
“…What are you babbling about?”
Allen bounced impatiently, finally jolting Artipe back. He answered in a low, heavy voice.
“You must hurry to greet her! Or some other noble will steal her away!”
“….”
If he had been rational, he would have known every word was nonsense. If he had been rational.
But pressed by Allen’s urging, Artipe reflexively stepped forward.
Finding Charlize wasn’t hard. A large crowd marked where she stood.
As Artipe approached, the throng shifted, and he caught sight of her. Their eyes met.
Her blue gaze rested on him, wide and unblinking, and he forgot how to breathe.
Then, her eyes curved in the gentlest of smiles.
“Y-your Excellency? Where are you going?!”
Artipe, tears slipping unbidden, turned and fled.
Artipe slowly opened his eyes, which he had shut tight.
Recalling his first meeting with Charlize always made his heart race as though he had returned to that day.
And sometimes, he regretted.
Since things had come to this, he wished he hadn’t fled—at least exchanged words.
Then, perhaps, he would have heard her voice speaking to him, maybe even calling his name.
But regret always ended as self-reproach.
‘I should know my place. My desire would only bring her misfortune.’
For half of every month he lived as a wolf; how could he ever take a wife?
Once Allen climbed into the carriage, the driver flicked the reins.
“Allen Bendingk.”
“Yes, sir?”
Predatory eyes locked onto him.
“Why did you not report Lady Charlize’s disappearance to me?”
Allen swallowed hard.
If he hadn’t known, it meant incompetence. If he had known but stayed silent, it meant stupidity.
“…Forgive me.”
Allen had been stupid.
Artipe looked down at him coldly as he admitted guilt without excuse.
“I told you before, I would not use the lady as a pawn against the imperial family.”
The imperial family knew of Artipe’s curse.
Long ago, at the moment the founder of House Redmond struck down the Demon King, the king cast one final curse.
