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Chapter 18
A black crow entered through the cabin door.
‘A crow…?’
Shabiyan tried to shoo it away. He couldn’t risk waking the Duke.
‘Wait… the crow opened the door and came in?’
Was that even possible?
Shabiyan’s eyes narrowed.
What annoyed him even more was…
‘Creepy.’
The crow’s gaze was fixed on the hand that had just swept over the Duke’s eyes.
It shouldn’t be possible, yet somehow it felt as if the crow was smiling.
“Your Highness, the 8th Prince.”
A grim voice came from the crow’s beak, and Shabiyan’s eyes widened at the bizarre sight.
“If you don’t wish to wake him, please leave.”
“…Understood.”
Someone who knew Shabiyan and wielded strange magic.
They must be connected to the Bahart Empire or one of Kelien’s subordinates.
“Just close it.”
The crow urged Shabiyan, who was slowly shutting the door.
Even so, Shabiyan carefully pushed the door without letting the rusty hinges squeak.
Bang—.
The crow, apparently frustrated by Shabiyan’s slowness, flapped its wings and slammed the door open.
Shabiyan’s eyes went wide, as if to ask, How can you do that?
“He drank too much, he won’t wake.”
The dark mage, now in human form, said cynically.
‘Even a Swordmaster is still human.’
After nonstop travel, battles, negotiations, handling matters for the Countship of Hessen, and rescuing the 8th Prince, the Duke’s schedule had been brutal.
His body, exhausted, likely wouldn’t carry out its natural purification efficiently.
“Still! What if our Duke wakes up!”
Our Duke?
The possessive pronoun had already slipped in.
The dark mage felt pleased—things were going even better than expected.
“I’ve come to deliver Kelien’s orders.”
“The elder brother?”
At the mention of Kelien, Shabiyan’s face darkened.
He had suspected this crow was Kelien’s subordinate, but hearing it confirmed stung.
“What… orders has your brother given me?”
Shabiyan slumped his arms in despair.
He had a rough idea of Kelien’s orders. Surely it was something like… seduce the Emperor of Hailen to make him a tyrant…
“You are to seduce the Duke of Berwen.”
Shabiyan lifted his gaze from the floor.
The Duke? Surely the Duke of Berwen…
“…What did you say?”
“You are to seduce the Duke of Berwen, Your Highness.”
Shabiyan staggered in shock.
The dark mage chuckled internally at his reaction.
In truth, what the dark mage said was the complete opposite of what Kelien actually commanded.
‘Deliver this to Shabiyan: If you touch the Duke, you will not survive.’
But if Kelien’s order were relayed verbatim, could he ever truly become the master of the bloodline?
No—he would. After all, his master despised his own demonic lineage.
‘You are to seduce the Emperor of Hailen and drive a wedge between him and the Duke.’
Kelien’s order had to be twisted like this:
“By any means, take the Duke of Berwen into your arms.”
“….”
“Whether by body or by mind. Just as Your Highness has learned.”
Shabiyan went pale. The dark mage smirked inwardly.
Shabiyan had been molded for exactly this kind of task.
He knew that the 8th Prince had been forcibly trained in everything—from proper manners to nighttime activities—by the royal family.
So of course he would use him.
‘May you become Kelien’s tool, 8th Prince.’
Kelien was obsessed with the Duke, and you would be the kindling for that obsession.
Ah. Refreshing.
It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. But then…
‘Wait a second.’
A shiver ran down his spine.
This usually meant something strange. Instantly, he sat up.
“Hah… overslept.”
For the first time in his life, he had overslept.
The old cabin was already bathed in the warm sunlight of early morning, rather than the dim light of dawn.
He stared blankly at the dust floating in the air for a moment.
“Ah! There’s a meeting!”
He jumped from the empty bed in a rush.
Every morning, he had military meetings. Then he met with the staff, followed by the knights’ morning assembly…
‘I am the commander!’
He couldn’t just stroll in saying, “Oops, I’m late.”
Bang—.
In his rush, he stubbed his toe.
Even a Swordmaster felt pain when hitting the furniture. It was a fact he’d rather not know.
Finally, with shoes on, he became the dignified Duke of Berwen.
“Phew.”
He briefly surveyed the empty cabin, feeling a twinge of melancholy.
His heavy armor felt even heavier than usual.
Even someone like him, who felt pain in a stubbed toe, wanted a bit of rest. A little!
Yet despite this lament, his body moved efficiently.
Clang—.
He prepared for the cabin owner’s possible return.
Whoosh—.
He whistled for the horse playing by the water, and the dark horse elegantly approached. He mounted at once.
‘But why….’
It felt like someone had been with him last night.
While passed out drunk, someone seemed to have brushed his eyes.
‘Could it be….’
A ghost?
He shivered and jogged slightly, soon arriving at the barracks.
“Your Excellency!”
“Duke!”
As expected.
A long line waited at the barracks: Berwen knights, negotiation staff, and strategists.
“We came because you weren’t here.”
“You didn’t attend the meeting, so we came from the White Castle.”
“We thought you were being held by the Bahart faction!”
He raised a hand to quiet the shouting crowd.
“Krhm. I was training, so I’m slightly late.”
He couldn’t say he’d overslept.
“Indeed!”
Respect was evident on their faces, especially the Berwen knights—they looked impressed. Ah. His conscience pricked.
“The military meeting first. Then I’ll go to the White Castle for the staff meeting. The knights’ morning assembly is canceled today.”
The knights looked at each other in confusion.
The war wasn’t over, and yet the morning assembly was canceled. It was an important ritual to maintain military discipline.
“The treaty has been signed.”
He quickly explained the reason.
Since the war was over…
“Really? Wow!”
Today was a reward leave. He took out the treaty Kelien had given him.
“Did the Crown Prince of Bahart really sign this?”
The nearby clerks crowded around to look at the treaty.
It must have seemed miraculous—they were curious, and so was he.
The treaty clearly contained clauses unfavorable to the Bahart Empire. Even he hadn’t expected it to be signed so easily.
‘A few drinks and this deal isn’t bad at all.’
Yet he hadn’t even finished drinking. Why did they sign? Truly unpredictable.
“Duke.”
The senior Berwen knights and clerks, delighted, were suddenly approached by a servant in shabby clothes.
“…Demia wishes to see you.”
The servant belonged to the Countship of Hessen.
He nodded as if acknowledging the whisper.
“Understood. I’ll come after the staff meeting.”
Soon, he would meet Demia and make a few requests, then finally return to the capital of Hailen!
“Duke. I will never forget this favor.”
Demia knelt, spreading her skirts across the floor.
She bowed her head and laid out various documents.
He picked up a few documents from Demia.
They contained evidence of corruption by the Count of Deto and the Countship of Hessen.
“I have not done you a favor. I have simply employed talent.”
He lowered his knee, satisfied with the contents.
There was still more evidence to find, but this was remarkable, considering the short time.
“The Countship of Hessen is a key strategic point bordering the Bahart Empire. We cannot leave it unattended.”
“….”
“Because you have the ability, I gave you the opportunity.”
Demia, intelligent, would make full use of this chance.
She would likely appoint deputies but act as the effective lord herself.
“I am the Duke of Berwen, and the neighboring lord of this territory. I look forward to working with you.”
He made a light joke, and Demia relaxed and smiled.
Like with Rosaline, he guided Demia politely to the table.
“…Duke.”
Demia opened her mouth but said nothing. Her clear, intelligent amber eyes sparkled.
A perfect choice for the next-generation lord.
“The punishment of Deto will be discussed with His Majesty. We will strike at the most appropriate and effective moment.”
“Yes.”
“So please be patient.”
He spoke indirectly, but meant she would see more unpleasantness before then.
“If there is hope, it is possible at any time.”
Rather than upset, Demia seemed pleased.
Now was the perfect timing to ask for a favor.
“May I ask something?”
“…A favor from someone like you, Duke?”
Demia, tall but sparse in furniture, looked over her humble room.
She thought for a moment, then smiled with catlike eyes.
“If you desire me…”
“No. Not that.”
“…You dismiss it so abruptly, it’s embarrassing.”
Though she didn’t seem embarrassed at all.
He handed her a sketch drawn during the meeting.
“Please prepare a carriage. Someone with a leg injury will ride, so the interior should be modified for a bed, like this.”
Demia’s expression grew strange as she looked at the sketch.
“And perhaps books for the journey, in case of boredom. I don’t know their tastes, so please prepare according to the lady’s discretion…”
“Duke.”
Demia’s clear eyes turned to him.
“The princess must be envious of you.”
“…Pardon?”
That was her expression.
‘She wants this man.’
After that, she seemed flustered and babbled incoherently.
After leaving Demia’s room, he was filled with confidence.
‘Yes! Even Demia, whom I’ve met briefly, shows interest. If I’m attractive in appearance—even as a man—then Shabiyan should be easy to tempt!’
But reality was harsh.
“Your Highness. Please board the carriage. I will assist you…”
“D-Don’t touch me! I-I can manage…”
As soon as his hand reached out, Shabiyan recoiled in fright.
“I-I said, don’t touch me! I… I…”
Shabiyan, tearful, limped to the carriage alone.
‘…I’ve failed.’
He helplessly withdrew his outstretched hand.
Rosaline. I think I’ve failed.
The person I need to seduce seems scared of me.
What now?
