Chapter 50
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Chapter 50
Serea Fron Ibroyel was renowned as a bold and commanding woman.
With hair that cascaded in the signature pink and purple hues of the Duchy, she stood taller than most men, her frame solid and imposing.
Her voice possessed an unusual, deep timbre that captivated every eye whenever Duchess Ibroyel wove her magic.
The young ladies and gentlemen of High Society would blush and grow flustered whenever their gazes met hers at the grand balls.
The Duchess herself was acutely aware of her own magnetism.
She delighted in adorning herself like a peacock to showcase her distinctive allure, and she relished attending the various balls and galas throughout the season.
Duchess Ibroyel was equally diligent in hosting her own grand soirées.
The lavish gatherings she personally orchestrated and presided over at the Ibroyel Duchy were legendary throughout the Palen Empire.
Any nobleman with even a passing interest in High Society coveted an invitation to her uniquely enchanting affairs.
Even foreign nobility yearned to attend the Duchess's celebrated events.
Perhaps it was because she lived such a resplendent life.
People often forgot.
That Duchess Ibroyel, Serea, who appeared to be in her thirties....
Was in fact well over sixty years of age.
Her exceptional magical prowess had halted the aging of her body, yet Serea was actually older than the current Emperor himself.
Connected by blood to the Imperial Court and possessed of formidable power, she was a woman who feared nothing in this world.
Yet there was one exception—a single being who made her shudder.
That one creature alone was so unbearable that she ground her teeth at the mere thought of him.
"Sigh...."
Draped in a nightgown and reclining at an angle upon her bed, I exhaled a long, weary breath.
The aroma of fruit drifted delicately from the transparent liquor in my wine glass.
I sipped slowly from the foreign spirits that had journeyed across distant lands, exhaling with satisfaction in a rhythmic cadence.
With half-lidded eyes, I savored the tranquility of the midnight hour.
The languid warmth following my bath, the exquisite taste of wine perfectly suited to my palate, the gentle chorus of crickets drifting through the open window, and....
"Your Grace."
A man's voice.
I snapped my eyes open with irritation.
Annoyed, I rolled my gaze across the room, and the moment I spotted the man standing before the window, I shrieked.
"Aaaahhhhh!"
I hurled the wine glass from my hand.
The precious foreign spirits I had been savoring scattered brilliantly through the air with a resounding splash.
"You insane bastard! I already paid back every last coin!!"
Unfortunately, the man simply twisted his body to the side, deftly evading the flying glass.
The expensive wine glass vanished uselessly beyond the window.
He glanced briefly at the falling glass before turning back to me with a faint smile.
"I'm not here about the money."
"Then what!"
At my exasperated expression, the man averted his gaze to the side.
"Your gown."
At his brief mention, Serea burst into derisive laughter.
As if he would flinch at the sight of bare, exquisite beauties fluttering before him in droves.
A man whose heart was forged from stone harder than diamond, yet here he was, feigning propriety.
"Oh my, have you decided to play the bashful maiden now?"
"That's hardly the case. I'm simply observing basic human courtesy."
"Human? Huuuman? You dare call yourself human! The audacity of you!"
"Your Grace."
A youthful voice cut through Serea's wild outburst with decisive authority.
Serea, who had been bellowing moments before, fell silent, her lips pressing shut.
She narrowed one eye and shot back a response.
"...Why."
"Conversation with Your Grace is always a pleasure, but I'm afraid I lack the time at present."
"Ah, so your house caught fire, I heard?"
Serea, her gown loosely fastened, giggled and reached toward a wide dish atop the dresser.
She plucked sage and mint leaves from the dish and chewed them noisily as she spoke.
"Did you come to play loan shark? Surely you didn't come asking me to extinguish the flames."
That mere Townhouse—this man before her was wealthy enough to burn dozens of them in a single night without flinching.
There was no reason he would come all this way over a simple house fire.
Serea regarded the man with eyes full of caution.
Count Basilian, Kieran Basilian.
He was truly a man pleasant to behold and admire.
Every time she saw him, his beauty and danger seemed sculpted by demons themselves.
If others were mass-produced, shoddy commodities flooding the market,
then Kieran was the handcrafted work of a master artisan—a masterpiece such a craftsman creates only once in a lifetime.
For one who cherished art, his face alone brought contentment.
Yet every beautiful flower bears thorns.
Serea knew well that he was a serpent harboring venom.
"What is it, exactly."
Her words flew sharp as a wine glass.
Kieran, silhouetted against the moonlight, slowly parted his lips.
"Master."
"...."
It was an ancient title, long forgotten.
He spoke softly to the stiffened Serea.
"Help me."
After all this time, he comes only to say this.
And he presses it upon me in words I could never refuse.
"...Cunning viper."
Serea exhaled the curse like a lament and collapsed onto the bed.
Legs crossed, arms folded, she fixed Kieran with a steady gaze.
"I'll help you. In exchange, send your third son."
I spoke while thinking of the Basilian Estate's handsome third young master.
"You said he had talent for magic, didn't you? If he was born a jewel, he ought to be polished and made to shine."
"As I've mentioned before, he hasn't expressed interest yet. If he wishes to learn, I'll send him to you immediately."
"Sigh... This is why talented people are more troublesome."
Despite being blessed with such precious magical talent, he was determined to let it rot away unused.
It was time that would be wasted even if spent on daily training.
Serea Fron Ibroyel shook her head as if fed up.
"So what's the problem?"
"I've lost my youngest daughter."
"...Your youngest daughter?"
Just before I could say he only had three sons, something suddenly came to mind.
It was the recent news that Count Basilian had adopted a baby from the Orphanage.
It had been a topic of quiet discussion in High Society.
Ever since hearing the news, I'd been burning to ask why he'd adopted her, but I'd been holding it back all this time.
I should have asked why he adopted her as payment for helping with this matter.
Serea felt brief regret, but maintained her composure outwardly as she sat.
"As you know, there was a fire at the estate. Because of the aftermath, I cannot move about. Of course, I'm planning to send people out to search privately as well, but..."
Kieran continued with a picturesque smile.
"Wouldn't it be much easier if you used magic to help, Your Grace?"
I could roughly grasp how things were unfolding.
Few in the Empire knew that Kieran used dark magic.
It was a secret that mustn't be revealed to the outside world, lest he face judgment from the Heresy Inquisitor.
Because the fire at the Basilian Mansion had drawn the attention of many.
Using large-scale dark magic in such circumstances might expose him.
Serea decided to use magic for her unfortunate student.
"I need either a part of the person's body or a blood relative's remains. Did you bring any hair at least?"
"...I don't have that."
Kieran slowly dragged his fingernail across his palm.
Red blood welled up.
"I'll use my blood instead."
Serea flicked her finger.
An empty bottle that had been rolling in the corner of the bedroom flew swiftly beneath Kieran's hand and caught the falling drops of blood.
"But you said she was adopted?"
"I've also lost a son along with her."
"Who?"
"My eldest, Belzeon."
"...."
Belzeon, the eldest son of House Basilian—Serea knew him well.
Though still young, he was said to be a genius who even handled Count Basilian's duties in his stead.
To lose such a brilliant child who could inherit the title without hesitation, even now.
Though somehow it doesn't feel like he was lost. No matter how I think about it....
"He ran away because he couldn't control his own temperament, didn't he?"
Kieran laughed silently.
Serea Fron Ibroyel clicked her tongue in disapproval while pulling the vial of blood before her.
She swiftly traced a magical circle through the air.
She had no desire to entangle herself in complicated matters—her plan was to quickly fulfill his request and cast him out.
The magical circle, rendered in violet lines, shimmered with an ethereal luminescence.
The vial containing blood was sucked into the magical circle and shattered with a crisp sound.
The blood swirled and was completely absorbed, and the moment the light emanating from the magical circle intensified.
"...!!"
Serea raised her arm to shield her face.
A sharp, piercing crack tore through the air as the magical circle shattered into fragments.
Amid the scattered shards of light, Serea's expression turned blank.
"You... who is with Belzeon right now?"
She murmured, swallowing blood that rose from the magical backlash.
"My magic was destroyed...."
A Duchess of the Palen Empire and a celebrated Grand Mage whose prowess was counted among the finest on the continent.
Her tracking magic had been shattered in a single blow.
The meaning of such destruction was singular.
Whoever had broken the magic was an existence as powerful as Serea herself.
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org