Chapter 98
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Dear, I believe you may be misunderstanding.
Episode 98
"Welcome, Your Highness. It has been quite some time since we've seen the head of Onium and Lady Bianie."
Selena Black, who had been chatting away while keeping her two sons close, greeted the approaching group of four first.
Soon her gaze fell upon the man standing beside Trisha.
"And you are...?"
"I am Rowen Ganash, Commander of the Temple's Knights."
"Ah, so you're from the Temple. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Selena Black."
Rowen bowed respectfully.
His hair color was rather distinctive.
'Brown?'
No, upon closer inspection, he was a man with deep auburn hair and chocolate-toned skin that left quite an impression.
His calm, piercing golden eyes were equally striking, yet they held no aggression.
If I had to describe it... he felt like a sturdy shield.
He was a man who exuded strength in a different way than Lucas did.
His tightly pressed lips gave him a somewhat stoic appearance.
He was absolutely not the type who could brazenly force his way into the King's Private Chamber.
'So this is his true nature.'
Lucas let out a soft chuckle at the stark contrast to how this man had appeared when he burst into the King's Private Chamber moments ago.
Now I could see just how much he had lost his composure back then.
"Hmm? Where is she? The music stopped, so I came down hoping we could finally have a conversation."
Fresia, who had come looking for Grace, craned her neck and scanned the area around Lucas.
Beside Fresia were Bianie, Trisha, and Trisha's fiancé Rowen.
Hiess Cerviente had disappeared at some point, but no one paid it any mind.
He was simply that kind of presence.
A flicker of displeasure crossed Lucas's eyes as he surveyed Fresia, Bianie, and Trisha, but it vanished just as quickly.
Grace was approaching from that direction.
"Oh, there she is!"
Fresia hurried toward Grace, who was slowly entering the Banquet Hall from beyond the Balcony.
Bianie and Trisha followed in her wake.
This time, Rowen remained in place and did not move.
"...Tsk."
Lucas clicked his tongue as he watched the three women surrounding Grace.
That displeasure which had flickered across his face moments ago now rose unmistakably to the surface.
"What's the matter, brother?"
"I don't like it."
"What? That Grace is surrounded by others?"
"What? Lucas, are you saying you don't like Grace being friendly with other people? Good heavens. Since when are you so petty?"
Selena, who had been listening, spoke with exasperation.
Lucas shook his head briefly at his mother's words, as if to say that wasn't it.
"That's not what I mean, Mother."
"Then what else could you possibly mean?"
Cain, standing beside her, and Rowen, positioned slightly apart, both turned to Lucas with expressions of bewilderment.
Lucas's gaze fixed upon Fresia and Bianie, who held Grace's hand firmly while gazing at her with gleaming eyes.
Without thinking, my brow furrowed and I clicked my tongue in displeasure.
I disliked it.
I disliked it intensely.
Lucas muttered, his eyes darkening with shadow.
"I should be the only one worthy of Grace's touch...."
"...What?"
"Ah, soon everyone will be asking for her to strike them."
What absurd nonsense was this?
Selena, listening intently, stared at her eldest son with a vacant expression.
"Only I should receive it... only me. Damn it."
I alone should have been privileged to experience the touch of Grace's hand.
At the thought that everyone would now covet it, tears blurred my vision.
Lucas exhaled deeply, his sighs laden with genuine sorrow.
Cain glanced at Lucas, then nodded as if he understood perfectly.
Rowen's eyes flickered with brief confusion, but he turned away with an expression suggesting he respected personal preferences.
Only one person.
Only Selena watched her eldest son approach Grace with a face bearing traces of shock.
Soon she murmured in bewilderment, her expression marked by visible question marks.
"...Did I give birth to a pervert?"
She remained blissfully unaware that Cain, standing beside her, was silently correcting himself: 'More precisely... perverts, Mother.'
* * *
"Hmm."
Ulias approached Hiss, who was leaning against the Second Floor Balcony railing and gazing down at the floor below.
Hiss glanced at her as she drew near, then extended his hand.
"Medicine."
"Here it is."
Six pills, rounded and clustered like finely crushed gravel, were placed into Hiss's pale palm.
Without water, Hiss crunched the bitter pills between his teeth and swallowed them down his throat.
"No matter when I take it, the taste never improves."
His white brow, reflected in the chandelier's light, creased with elegant displeasure.
He furrowed his brow as though he might spit out the medicine at any moment, yet such a thing could never occur.
Without the medicine, he would have to endure excruciating pain so severe he couldn't sleep.
It was a full-body ache emanating from his weakened skin.
With the beginning of The Curse, the Serviente Family had to shed their skin.
For true serpents, it would be nothing, but for these beings who were merely byproducts of the curse, it was nothing but agony.
Like a hereditary disease of the curse, the family heads had endured this across generations.
This medicine was precisely what suppressed that pain.
Only the Council of Elders knew the formula for its creation, and they wielded it to control the family heads.
They were tedious and sinister old men, yet the family heads had no choice but to maintain smooth relations with the Council because of the medicine that allowed them to bear unbearable pain.
Though "smooth relations" was the phrase used, they essentially handled most of the Council's dirty work.
'But why exactly is the Council of Elders taking notice of that woman?'
Hiss's intelligence network was the family's intelligence network, so the Council of Elders knew most of what he knew.
"Most" didn't mean "all," but in any case, they too were aware that Grace Oellin was having some effect on The Curse.
So why was the Council trying to obstruct it?
Why?
Hiss was secretly investigating the matter.
But extracting information from cunning old foxes was no easy task.
'If only it weren't for the medicine'—the Council of Elders would be nothing.
The old men were an obstacle to his life.
He despised the Council of Elders for trying to manipulate his already precious life as they pleased.
Pain.
That was the problem.
But there were a few advantages as well.
Perhaps because of the suffering unique to serpents, there were certain privileges the other families didn't possess.
First, I could transform whenever I wished.
Second, I could arbitrarily control my size when in serpent form.
Third, just like the first, I could return to human form whenever I desired.
That is, provided I could endure the agonizing sensation of my throat burning.
'Hmm, now that I think about it, they don't seem like privileges at all?'
The primordial curse originated solely from the island's witch.
The founders slaughtered all seven beasts she cherished and invaded her lands.
The details were sparse, but the result was clear—the founders were cursed to bear the forms of the very beasts they had killed.
In that moment, Hiess found himself harboring a rational suspicion: had the witch harbored particular hatred for the Serviente ancestor she had cursed with the serpent's visage?
Though even if such suspicions arose, there was no way to verify them.
He watched as the music ceased and the violet-eyed woman stepped back into the Banquet Hall from the Terrace.
Grace Oellin.
Or was it Grace Black now?
Or perhaps, having received a new title, would she become Grace Blooming?
Whatever surname followed her name mattered little.
What mattered was the woman herself.
Hiess's gaze fell upon her hand, concealed beneath lace gloves.
The sting of where she had struck his cheek still lingered, as if fresh.
That absurd sensation refused to fade from memory.
Compared to the agony of his throat burning, it was such a delightful pain, was it not?
A single blow to his cheek, and his body had miraculously returned to its human form.
'But...'
Was she truly our savior, as Fresia claimed?
Or merely a threat, as the Council of Elders insisted?
There was no certainty in this situation.
"My lord."
Ulias, who had been waiting, extended a note bearing a gold seal.
"Ah, again?"
This was already the seventh message from the Council of Elders.
Moreover, the frequency of their correspondence had grown increasingly urgent.
They had sent another note merely a week after the last one.
"I can guess what it says without even reading it."
Hiess spoke with indifference, carelessly unfolding the note.
[Kill her. Dispose of her swiftly.]
There it was.
Hiess chuckled softly, tearing the paper to shreds and handing it to Ulias.
"Those scheming old men, holed up in their chambers barking orders while demanding everything."
"That is the very reason the Council of Elders exists."
"Those old fools wouldn't bat an eye if I died, so what do I know? My own survival isn't even certain."
"..."
At Hiess's careless murmuring, Ulias's eyes dimmed.
She gazed at his back for a long while with that subdued expression, then, hearing him mutter something further, quickly lowered her head.
"...Would you let her strike me again?"
"Pardon?"
I wished to be struck just one more time.
The exhilaration of that moment when I had suddenly reclaimed my true form—it would not fade from memory.
"What did you just say?"
"Hm? Oh, it's nothing. Never mind."
The truth that I had regained my composure thanks to Grace Oellin remained a secret for now.
Hiess Cerviente, who had been chuckling softly, waved his hand as if it were no great matter.
The woman with the decisive grip held the hand of the man who had become her husband as of today, stepping onto the dance floor.
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Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org
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