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Chapter 6
“My lady, the Count is waiting for you.”
At the maid’s urging voice, Rebecca snapped back to reality.
She opened the door and slowly walked down the corridor.
With each step she took, the hem of her dress brushed together, making a faint rustling sound.
From across the hall, Alicia’s door cracked open.
Through the narrow gap, Alicia carefully examined Rebecca from head to toe.
Her gaze was filled with greedy desire.
Rebecca met Alicia’s eyes and gave her a slight smile.
At Rebecca’s triumphant smile, fury sparked in Alicia’s eyes.
Yes, realize your place there. And long for what you can never have.
Parties were always something she dreaded, but tonight’s banquet she could attend with a willing heart.
Rebecca had a clear purpose.
It was her chance to fasten the very first button of her revenge.
“Croah, don’t you have anything more useful to tell me?”
Julian closely examined the reports Croah had collected.
As usual, not a single decent lead about the curse was in them.
In fact, the quality of information seemed to be declining.
Julian slammed the desk in irritation.
The force knocked over the wineglass on the table.
Red drops splattered across his broad bare chest.
“These days, all sorts of storytellers who smell money are flocking to me. Just filtering out the strange ones takes days. By the way, you really should change clothes.”
Croah, flustered, grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed at the wine running down Julian’s chest.
Behind him, servants waited with a black tailcoat in hand.
Julian raked a hand through his black hair, irritated.
“If I’d known it would come to this, I wouldn’t have gone to war.”
“And who was it that insisted on going, saying his body was itching for a fight?”
“They called it war, but there wasn’t a single battle. The enemy surrendered the moment we drew our swords. Obviously, it was all planned by the Emperor. Something was off from the start. There’s no way rebels exist in this day and age.”
“So what? At least out of respect for the effort His Grace has put in, you should attend. If you keep provoking His Majesty’s patience like this, something serious might happen.”
“Something serious? What could possibly happen? As long as that cursed goddess hovers over our family, even the Emperor can’t touch us.”
Julian’s golden eyes gleamed. At his feet, three black cats all lifted their heads and cried in unison.
The eerie atmosphere made the servants shrink back.
Croah, accustomed to such scenes, snatched the shirt from a servant’s hands and approached Julian.
“Enough talk. Put this on!”
“Hah. Just thinking about the awful acting I’ll have to do already gives me a headache.”
“Then just show your face today and leave early. The plan’s already working—the whole city believes you’re a depraved man with filthy tastes. I even heard tonight’s banquet will serve that Lengers wine you love.”
“Well, that part I do like.”
Julian glanced at the clock and stood reluctantly from his chair.
Croah snapped his fingers a couple of times.
Only then did the frozen servants spring into motion, hurrying to dress Julian.
The House of Johannes was known to the world as a noble line blessed by the goddess Defria.
But the truth was somewhat different.
Once upon a time, the Johannes ancestors had been nothing more than middling nobles. Then, one day, the goddess of fortune, Defria, gave them a revelation:
If you honor me and my children with the greatest reverence, I will grant your house eternal wealth and glory.
Not long after, a rebellion broke out. The ancestor, siding with the rebels, won a great victory under the goddess’s protection.
The new emperor rewarded Johannes with a dukedom.
And at the Duke’s suggestion, Defria’s faith became the empire’s state religion.
Temples praising the goddess sprang up across the land.
Cats, once thought of as ominous creatures, became her sacred symbol—lucky animals.
Thus, the House of Johannes became the exalted family the goddess had promised: lacking neither wealth nor honor.
But with each generation, gratitude faded.
One foolish descendant even dallied with his mistress inside the temple. Angered, the goddess cursed the family:
Your child will serve the one I send as if it were his own flesh. You will pay the price for blessings you enjoyed too cheaply.
Months later, the mistress bore a son—the sole heir.
The child was healthy, but on the day of his birth, a black cat appeared out of nowhere.
When they tried to drive the cat away, the baby wailed in agony. When the cat was injured, the child shared the same wound.
It didn’t take long for the family to realize the truth of the curse.
The heirs of Johannes were born bound to the goddess’s cat, their souls entwined.
And so each heir was marked by golden eyes that shifted with their emotions.
The divine cat needed no food or water—it thrived only on the heir’s innate holy power.
Perhaps because of this, every heir of Johannes lived short lives.
Desperate to continue the line, the family forced their heirs into child marriages from a young age.
If a first wife bore no heir within a year, another was taken, for no one knew when the cursed heir might die.
Only the Pope and a handful within the Johannes household knew this truth.
To protect the goddess’s cat, the temple treated each Duke of Johannes as nothing more than a stud horse.
Thus, every child of Johannes was born with the curse.
The family’s prosperity endured, but so did their doom.
Julian was no exception.
Yet he had been born with greater divine power than any heir before him.
The Pope foretold that Julian would outlive all his predecessors.
Thanks to this, Julian had managed to postpone the hated custom of early marriage.
But time was running out.
Soon, he would be in his mid-twenties. The retainers and temple would begin to apply pressure.
Julian loathed it. He would not drag an innocent woman into his family’s curse.
The duchesses of Johannes had never met a good end.
His own mother had wasted away and died of sorrow when he was young.
The other three wives went mad after his father’s death and took their own lives.
Julian refused to accept such a fate.
He lifted his gaze toward the window.
From the eastern annex where Lillie lived, he could see the faint glow of lamplight.
If he were to die without leaving an heir, the curse would pass on to Lillie’s son.
He could not allow that tiny child to bear such a horrific destiny.
“I have to end it with me…”
Julian had wished for a miracle all his life.
But he had never once prayed to God.
“Mind your step, Rebecca.”
Zeppelin, stepping down from the carriage first, extended his hand to her.
For a moment, he stared, utterly entranced by her figure.
Adorned with the ornaments he had personally chosen, she was beautiful beyond words.
Rebecca glanced at Zeppelin, clad in a crisp white tailcoat, and placed her hand lightly on his arm.
His eyes fell upon the wedding ring encircling her long fingers, and he was swept back into memory.
On his seventeenth birthday, the Devonshire household had hosted a grand party.
Snow was falling thick that night.
Bored with the festivities, Zeppelin had slipped out onto the balcony—where he saw Rebecca for the first time.
She was only eleven then, her cheeks flushed red as she gleefully rolled about in the snow.
Building a snowman, she had looked up, met his eyes, and burst into a radiant smile.
At that instant, Zeppelin had fallen in love. To be precise, he was captivated by Rebecca’s face, so like his own.
How beautiful would the children be if I married that girl?
Zeppelin had been raised to believe beauty was the very meaning of life.
For the first time, his monotonous life gained a goal.
From then on, he schemed to make Rebecca entirely his own.
After much effort, he succeeded in marrying her.
But shaping Rebecca into what he wanted proved far from easy.
She was far sharper and more strong-willed than he had expected.
Still, Zeppelin had patience to match her stubbornness.
Over nearly a decade, he carefully isolated her, making her wholly dependent on him.
Bringing Alicia into their home was part of the same plan.
He wanted Rebecca to fall into deeper despair, constantly comparing herself to the younger, prettier Alicia.
The more she doubted herself, the more she would cling to beauty.
Now all that’s left is for her to bear me a child. A child who looks like me.
Rebecca could feel the eyes of others upon her, enchanted by her beauty.
Zeppelin smiled with satisfaction as they stepped into the glittering banquet hall beneath the radiant chandeliers.
He had no idea what was truly in Rebecca’s mind at that very moment.
“I’ve heard much about you, Duke Johannes.”
Julian, conversing beside Emperor Zahidra, turned his head at the melodious voice.
A young woman with red hair piled high was smiling at him.
The Emperor eagerly introduced her.
“Ah, Julian. You haven’t met before. This is Princess Catherine.”
Princess?
Julian gave the blushing Catherine a cursory glance, then shifted his gaze back to Zahidra.
The Emperor was looking at them both with expectant eyes.
Julian stifled a laugh.
Ha. Old fox. I can see right through you.
Over the years, the clerical power of the Rotandus Empire had grown overwhelming.
Most of the high nobility were aligned with the Pope, and the common people were no different.
It had become customary for policies decided by the Council of State to be reviewed by the Cardinals or the Pope.
The House of Johannes had once been staunch allies of the temple.
But ever since Julian inherited the title, the family had walked a vague line of neutrality between Emperor and church.
The previous Emperor had been nothing more than the temple’s puppet.
Watching that, Zahidra had long been laying plans to strengthen imperial authority.
Of course, in his eyes, Julian looked like a golden goose.
Even the temple could not overrule a duke who bore the goddess’s blessing.
If he could only draw Julian to his side, the Duke would become his greatest weapon against the temple.
And what better way to bind Julian to him than a political marriage?
