SWER 33

chapter 33

Cold sweat trickled down my back.

It was the first time Duke Blake had ever looked at me with such hostility.

‘Well… maybe not the first time. He was just as antagonistic when he faced the High Saintess of the Church of Iris.’

…No. Actually, that time, he’d looked even more irritable than now.

But this time—it was different.

His gaze was so cold it made my skin crawl. Though his expression seemed no different than usual, just one word from me felt like it would bring his eyes down on me like a blade. That’s how sharp and dangerous they were.

[Warning! A powerful curse is detected nearby.]
[You cannot resist. Leave the area immediately.]

I ignored the system messages, and another one appeared as if trying to force my attention.

The words alone were terrifying. A curse? I didn’t even want to know what that meant.

I want to leave too!

Trying to hold back tears at this unwanted “event,” I slowly opened my mouth.

“…My apologies, Your Grace. If I’ve said or done anything—”

Was it when I mentioned the Flower Garden? No, the atmosphere had been perfectly calm until then.

Then was it when I asked if he’d gone inside?

What happened there?

“What could I have done to offend you…?”

“…”

All I could do was bow my head and beg for forgiveness.

As the Duke watched me silently, my throat went dry. Finally, that heavy voice broke the stillness.

“Raise your head, Lady.”

“…”

“It isn’t your fault.”

When I cautiously lifted my head, I saw his brow furrowed—not with anger this time, but rather…

“…If I frightened you, I apologize.”

He looked—regretful.

[The cursed energy is slowly dissipating.]

The red warning on the system window faded back to its usual color, confirming what I’d felt.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“…”

“If I startled you—”

“It’s all right.”

But the fear I’d felt wasn’t easy to shake off.

Of course not. The system never warns me like that unless something serious happens! I don’t know what I stepped on, but I’m not doing it again.

Still, having the Duke apologize to me felt almost as uncomfortable as before. So I simply repeated,

“Truly, it’s fine, Your Grace.”

It sounded like that awkward “I’m fine, really” people say after fighting with a friend, but I forced myself to act calm.

“…I see.”

The Duke looked at me for a moment longer, then nodded slightly, saying nothing more.

Silence settled again.

Seriously? After all that effort to break the tension, now it’s worse than before!

We’d come here because we were hungry, but at this point, I’d rather go home starving.

Damn it, why isn’t the food coming yet?

“Pardon the intrusion.”

There it was—salvation!

The waiter arrived, placing dishes on the table.

The usual imperial salad and steak.

Not that I expected anything fancy—after all, I didn’t cook this myself.

Just eat quickly and leave. That’s the plan.

“Please enjoy your meal.”

Enjoy, huh? As if that’s possible.

No words were exchanged during the serving, and even after the waiter left, silence lingered.

Typical of the Empire, where food culture lacked artistry—everything was served at once, not in separate courses.

The only comfort was that this meant the meal would at least be short.

“Go ahead. Eat comfortably.”

“…Thank you, Your Grace.”

Comfortably, huh. Sure.

The atmosphere was so heavy it made my stomach churn, but I forced myself to lift my spoon.

The food’s innocent in all this.

I thought I’d have no appetite, but once the spoon was in my hand, my empty stomach growled even louder. Probably from all the tension.

Ignoring the oppressive mood, I took my first bite—

“…?!”

My pupils trembled as flavor hit my tongue.

It wasn’t the curse or the atmosphere that was the problem.

What the hell…

The food—was unbelievably bad.

Blake blamed himself—something he rarely did.

“I let a moment of emotion get the better of me.”

He needed to find a way to understand the connection between Priscilla and his curse. To do that, he first had to grow closer to her.

He couldn’t ask her directly about the curse—if she truly knew nothing, it would only complicate things.

First, get closer to her.

It was the only logical conclusion.

But with their current relationship—a Duke and a young lady of a ducal house, or worse, a Duke and a Saintess—even casual talk was difficult.

They were to attend the Spring Artwal together, but that was just a one-time event.

Once back at the border, his time would be consumed by monster extermination. There’d be no chance to investigate the curse further.

So he had fabricated an excuse—“There’s something I wish to discuss before the Artwal”—just to see her alone.

And yet—

To ruin it over something long past… pathetic.

His uncontrolled temper had shattered the peaceful mood.

The curiosity that had once shone on her face had turned into fear. That expression lingered painfully in his mind.

The Fairy’s Gift… is that really worth all this?

It was a trivial thing from the past.

The fairies, divine beings, had rejected his cursed existence—nothing more than that.

Yes, he had once received a fairy’s blessing—a weapon imbued with light—and thanks to it, he had cut through countless monsters on the battlefield.

But those were faded memories, relics of another time. Useless now.

Deciding not to dwell on it, he raised his head to glance at Priscilla, who was quietly eating across from him.

Her complexion doesn’t look good.

Though the dark aura had long dispersed, perhaps its remnants still lingered in her.

Maybe his unresolved emotions had leaked into his aura without his realizing.

His aura was notoriously fierce—ordinary people could hardly withstand it. And Priscilla… she was so fragile.

She even flinched earlier just from hearing her name.

That delicate frame, the faint expressions she wore—she always looked on the verge of breaking.

Yet with her family, she seemed at ease. Of course, that made sense.

But he’d been wrong.

She can smile like that?

He’d seen her bright smile with Elain Meyer—as warm and natural as if before her own kin.

A smile so radiant it left an afterimage in his mind.

Priscilla Lockhart could smile like that.

His perception of her shifted.

Fragile—but strong-willed. Calm with her family. Rarely smiles… No.

She can smile around others too.

She just doesn’t smile around him.

And after what happened today, she probably wouldn’t again for a while.

“…”

Her smile had nothing to do with his goal—yet for some reason, he disliked that thought. Even knowing it was his own fault.

“…Your Grace.”

Then, surprisingly, she spoke first.

“What is it, Lady?”

Her face was still pale. It bothered him.

“…Does the meal suit your taste?”

The meal, huh.

Another difficult question.

His curse had dulled his senses—and among them, taste was the dullest.

He didn’t know why. Perhaps because it was the least essential for survival, it was the first to fade.

Neither the steak nor the salad before him had any taste at all. It was just mechanical chewing, nothing more.

Still, explaining that to someone unaware of the curse would be pointless.

After a brief thought, he chose the most ordinary response.

“It’s quite good. And you—”

But he never finished.

He froze, feeling the shift in her aura.

“Your Grace,” she said, voice low.

Her face—cold, unwavering. Gone was the fragile girl he’d seen before; in her place stood someone firm and steady.

The change caught him off guard.

“Do you truly mean that?”

Her sharp eyes shone with a conviction he hadn’t seen before, and for once, he found himself wondering—what had he just said that was so wrong?