Chapter 5
Whoooosh—
The conference room fell completely silent after Daphne left.
What she had just said and done was so absurd, so far beyond what anyone could accept as real.
“I will not die.”
“I’ll survive—and kill you.”
What kind of nonsense was that…?
Marquis Geyron and Pauline exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes drifting toward Duke Heros.
They had expected him to be offended, furious even—but to their surprise, the Duke’s face remained perfectly calm.
He merely rolled the pen Daphne had pointed at him between his fingers.
‘Why isn’t he angry?’
No, that wasn’t quite right.
Heros couldn’t get angry.
Ever since the curse of the dark mage took hold of him, he had been stripped of his emotions entirely.
Of course, almost no one knew this secret. The details of the curse had been tightly hidden, and since Heros was never one for emotional displays to begin with, few noticed any real difference.
In any case, the Duke could no longer feel anger or any emotion at all.
But that didn’t mean he was thoughtless.
‘What is he thinking right now…?’
The marquis studied him for a long while but couldn’t read anything from that impassive face.
Eventually, he gave up and began pondering on his own.
Daphne Archion.
The child who was never meant to be born.
Her birth had claimed another’s life, and even then, she was fated to die soon after—bound by an incurable curse.
She had always been sick, always irritable, always angry at the world.
She struck her servants without warning and threw tantrums daily.
That was why Heros had locked her away in the annex.
He thought she would die quietly there.
But not only had she survived, today she had caused a spectacle like none before.
Perhaps it would be worth watching what she did next.
‘Something entertaining might happen before I die of old age,’ he mused.
Marquis Geyron’s eyes met Pauline’s—the Duke’s most loyal aide.
Pauline smiled faintly and gave a slow nod. They both understood without speaking.
“Ahh, that felt good.”
Leaving the conference room, I rubbed my stomach with a sigh of deep satisfaction.
It felt as though a century’s worth of frustration had finally lifted.
The so-called hero hadn’t shown a single flicker of expression.
But that didn’t matter.
My goal hadn’t been to provoke him emotionally—it was to declare war.
Now that I’d made my intentions perfectly clear, he’d surely be on edge.
“Um, Lady Daphne…”
The elf, Teyti, spoke up cautiously behind me.
“So, I can take my leave now… right?”
I turned my eyes toward him.
“I mean,” he stammered, “I was only hired to treat Lady Daphne Archion’s illness, but, uh… you don’t exactly seem like you need treatment anymore, so—”
“Are you trying to run away from me?”
“Wh-what? Of course not! Never! How could I ever leave the side of the great Lady Daphne? If it were up to me, I’d dedicate my entire life to serving you! It’s just that I have… uh, other prior contracts, you see—”
“Yak yak yak. You talk too much.”
“I’ll stop.”
It was obvious he was planning to bolt and hide, and I gave him a chilly look.
“The Black Butterfly Disease… people die once all four wings turn black, correct?”
“Y-yes, that’s right.”
“But my body’s wings are only half black.”
He blinked, startled.
“Meaning…?”
“It means I didn’t die from the curse.”
“Someone killed me.”
Teyti’s eyes widened.
“S-so, you want me to find out who did it? I’m an elf, not an informant! I can connect you to a good information guild, but personally, I—”
“No. I won’t order you to do that.”
“Haha! Of course! The great Lady Daphne is so merciful toward us lowly beings!”
“Make me a potion.”
“…Excuse me?”
His eye twitched.
“Make me a potion that will restore my strength. Something that will slow the curse and let me rebuild my power.”
“…Lady Daphne, I’m more of a doctor than an alchemist.”
“So you’re saying you can’t do it?”
I clenched my tiny fists and glared at him.
To anyone else, it might’ve looked like a child’s tantrum—but to him, that pressure was very real.
He swallowed hard, shaking his head.
“If you command it, I’ll obey. I’ll make it.”
“Good.”
I folded my arms and smiled in satisfaction.
“All that’s left now is to get stronger.”
Yes.
This was only the beginning.
“Don’t you think the young lady’s been acting strange lately?”
Anna spoke first.
Beside her, Anne—who was busy tidying the silverware—nodded eagerly.
“Yeah. Really strange.”
Their eyes met. Anna lowered her voice.
“The strangest part is…”
“She hasn’t thrown anything at us.”
They shouted together.
“It’s weird! It’s been over a week since the lady last hit us!”
“Exactly! Usually by now, we’d each have gotten at least one slap. What’s going on?”
It was true.
The old Daphne would have smacked them for every little word, sometimes even hurled objects for good measure.
But recently? Nothing.
Not even a glare.
That, more than anything, terrified them—like the calm before a storm.
“And her way of speaking too,” Anne added.
“She sounds… older. Like a grandmother.”
It wasn’t that this new Daphne was unpleasant—just that the change had come too suddenly.
It worried them.
“They say people change after coming back from the brink of death…”
“Do you think that’s what happened?”
Both women recalled the moment Daphne had suddenly risen in her coffin.
The shock of it still made their hearts pound. Everyone present had jumped to their feet that day.
Tears welled up in their eyes at the memory.
They weren’t loyal to Daphne because she treated them kindly—she hadn’t.
It was because Daphne was the only child of their late mistress.
Their lady, the one who had once rescued two desperate temple maids from a life of drudgery.
A woman of high standing, a great priestess who had treated even lowborn servants with kindness.
To Anne and Anna, she had been a savior.
They owed her their lives.
And Daphne—her daughter—was the mistress’s final gift to them.
Even if Daphne was cursed and destined to die, they wanted her short life to at least be happy.
That was why they endured her temper, why they stayed by her side.
It was their way of honoring the woman who had once saved them.
But lately…
“She’s really unpredictable now,” Anna murmured.
“She even went to the training grounds again today.”
Anne frowned.
The training grounds—dusty, sweaty, and utterly unfit for a delicate noble lady.
They’d tried to stop her countless times, but Daphne refused—and even forbade them from following her.
“What could she possibly be doing there?”
After all, Daphne was going to die.
There was no cure for the Black Butterfly curse.
She should be spending her remaining days resting, surrounded by comfort.
That was their job—to ensure she could live out her short life in peace.
‘It makes no sense,’ Anne thought, biting her lip.
“I think I know what she’s doing,” Anna whispered.
“What?”
“Remember what we heard? That she went to see the Duke during his meeting?”
Anne nodded.
That day, Daphne had suddenly disappeared.
While they were frantically searching the annex, they’d heard the rumor—from another servant. The young lady had gone to see the Duke himself.
No one knew what was said behind those closed doors.
But the fact that Daphne—who had always feared the Duke—had gone to him of her own will… that meant something had changed.
“Since that day, she’s been going to the training grounds,” Anna continued.
“She walks the field every time, slowly, deliberately. I think… she’s training.”
“To catch the Duke’s attention…?”
“Mm. I even heard her whispering ‘hero’ to herself while she walked.”
Anne fell silent.
She knew better than anyone how much Heros despised Daphne.
And yet Daphne, frail and cursed as she was, was forcing herself to train—just to be noticed by him.
“…Poor thing.”
“She won’t live long anyway…”
They wiped their eyes and sniffled softly.
Then they straightened up, suddenly determined.
If Daphne was working that hard, they couldn’t just stand by.
“That’s it—I’ll make her some snacks to take along.”
“Good idea. I’ll help.”
The two hurried off toward the kitchen—
completely unaware that someone’s eyes were quietly watching them from the shadows.
