Chapter : 5. The Cursed Young Lord (1)
“You didn’t forget about us.”
The Madam held her hand and thanked her over and over again for coming to visit.
“That little girl was unusually pretty. Who would have thought she carried the imperial bloodline?”
“Exactly. It was truly unbelievable.”
At Gordon’s remark, Count Lapasha nodded in agreement.
While praising Elia, Gordon looked her up and down with an unpleasant, piercing gaze.
“And now I’m not even your older brother anymore.”
“Gordon. Why would you say something so hurtful for your sister to hear? No matter how things may look on the outside, now that Elia has come to help us, we are family. Isn’t that right, Elia?”
At Madam Renoa’s words, Elia simply smiled brightly.
It looked like a smile of agreement, but in truth, she was struggling to suppress the disgust rising inside her.
‘Weren’t I once just a stain left behind by a filthy dancer?’
Madam Renoa had loathed Elia.
Ever since Count Lapasha brought in a foreign dancer, she had been displeased. The fact that the dancer bore the Count’s child was something she could never tolerate.
‘In the end, Elia’s mother was locked in the underground prison.’
And that had been by Count Lapasha’s own order, not the Madam’s.
Still, it was probably the only way to guarantee the dancer’s life at the time.
The Count had forbidden Madam Renoa from entering the underground and personally went down to meet the dancer himself.
Even so, that was the extent of his “care” for the woman who carried his child.
The dancer gave birth to Elia in that prison, and after barely surviving for years, she died six years later from illness.
‘I remember it vividly.’
The cold, lifeless prison.
And her mother, who wouldn’t respond no matter how much she shook her.
Elia had held her mother’s corpse and cried for a long time.
After the dancer died, the Count lost all interest. From then on, the Madam began to openly abuse the young girl.
〈You disgusting little thing.〉
Gordon was no different. He pointed at Elia and called her a bug.
And yet now, the way he stared at her with such greed made her feel sick to her stomach.
“So, you came to repay your debt, right?”
“Of course she did. At least she’s not acting like some vulgar foreign wench, even if she has noble blood mixed in.”
Madam Renoa clasped Elia’s hand tightly, her eyes shining, while Count Lapasha snorted as if the answer were obvious and leaned back arrogantly.
“We can discuss that this evening. I’m a bit tired from the long journey.”
At Elia’s voice, the atmosphere instantly turned cold.
She had never once gone against Madam Renoa before.
Madam Renoa’s face stiffened, but upon recalling Elia’s current status, she quickly let out a light laugh.
“Oh my, I see. We can’t have our noble princess tiring herself out.”
Madam Renoa was smiling.
But within her curved eyes was undisguised contempt.
‘Who does she think she is.’
That was surely what she was thinking.
The Madam gestured toward the stairs.
“Go upstairs and rest. I’ve prepared a room for you.”
Elia was to stay at the Count’s estate for one night.
She nodded and stood up.
‘Status really does matter.’
She couldn’t understand why she had lived so submissively before her regression. Even the Count now couldn’t say a word against her.
‘This is what power is for.’
She smiled elegantly.
“Thank you, Madam.”
“You should call me Mother. Come, follow me.”
Madam Renoa personally led her to the room.
As Elia climbed the stairs, she looked at the woman’s back.
‘Everyone’s so eager to be called father or mother.’
Family? It would be a blessing if they didn’t treat her like livestock.
The place Madam Renoa led her to was not the underground prison, but a luxurious guest room.
“Look forward to dinner. It won’t compare to the imperial palace, but I’ve ordered a grand preparation.”
Telling her to rest well, Madam Renoa left.
Her tone and attitude were incredibly kind—
As if everything she had done to Elia in the past had been washed away.
‘Not that I expected anything.’
Standing before the closed door, Elia gave a bitter smile.
Soon, the sound of Madam Renoa’s footsteps faded away. After waiting until everything was quiet, Elia opened the door and stepped out.
‘It would’ve been better if she had just guided me to the underground.’
This kind of treatment was nothing but bothersome.
Elia descended a narrow staircase tucked away in a corner.
It was an old, dark passage rarely used even by servants—a place she used to come whenever she wanted to hide.
“Here it is.”
Avoiding others’ eyes, Elia arrived at the underground prison.
The rusty iron door was half-open.
‘That’s a relief.’
She had worried it might be locked, but it seemed no one had entered since she left the estate.
The very reason she came here was because of something inside.
Elia stepped into the moldy prison.
“It should be somewhere around here.”
She recalled her memory and felt along the lower right corner.
The dust-covered floor looked unremarkable.
Click.
Something caught her hand.
When she removed a slightly protruding brick, a hidden cavity was revealed.
“Found it.”
Elia pulled out the book hidden inside.
Covered in brown leather, the book looked so worn and filthy it could be mistaken for trash—
But to Elia, it was more precious than anything.
‘The spellbook of Selicia.’
Elia’s mother, the dancer Titirisha, was known to be a gypsy from a distant foreign land.
But in truth, she was from a destroyed tribe of sorcerers—and the daughter of its chief.
‘They were devoured by the mages.’
The mages had condemned the sorcerers as vulgar and filthy, eventually driving them to extinction.
Elia and Titirisha were the only survivors of that tribe.
〈I have no talent, but you… you will be different.〉
To lead the tribe required innate talent for sorcery, but Titirisha had none.
‘That’s why she was able to survive.’
Fleeing from soldiers sent to wipe out the tribe, Titirisha escaped with the book and wandered the continent as a dancer.
‘A power that draws upon nature and manipulates the energy and emotions created by people.’
While Titirisha was alive, Elia had learned the basics of sorcery.
After Elia had absorbed most of that knowledge, Titirisha died.
The memories of sorcery remained faintly, but after moving to the imperial palace, Elia had completely forgotten them.
“I’ve never actually activated it before.”
She stroked the spine of the book.
Titirisha, lacking talent, had never become its master either.
‘She said it could be activated after turning seventeen.’
The spellbook of Selicia chose its owner—someone with great talent.
Even if conditions were met, the book could still reject its user.
‘Because the one chosen by the book becomes its true master.’
There was nothing to lose, and coincidentally, one condition had already been met.
The birthday known in the imperial palace was fake.
Her real birthday—known only to herself—was today.
Whoosh!
As Elia opened the book, a mysterious violet light burst forth.
The book that had never opened before now accepted Elia as its master.
‘Mother was right.’
Though Titirisha lacked talent, she had an exceptional ability to recognize true potential.
‘I need to use two spells first.’
The page she opened was blank.
But the moment Elia desired power, foreign letters and symbols appeared upon it.
‘There are only three spells I can use right now.’
The book contained every spell in existence.
But the number visible depended on the user’s ability.
“Still, it seems my ability isn’t insignificant.”
A confident smile appeared on Elia’s lips.
Two spells she needed immediately were clearly visible to her.
‘The first one—’
As Elia placed her hand over the diagram, a mysterious light formed a ring and began drawing patterns around her.
The more complete the magic circle became, the more she felt something inside her being drained away.
One spell was completed.
Next—
“What are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you for a while.”
