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Chapter – 07
“Then, I’ll begin.”
“Go ahead.”
Just before the ritual began.
‘If I fail, the young master will get angry, right?’
Evangeline felt a flicker of worry.
But only for a moment.
‘No, Evangeline, you can do this. Just do it like you always do. You’ve succeeded before. You’ll definitely succeed t— oh?’
The instant Evangeline’s eyes met Carlisle’s violet ones—
Thump!
Her heart dropped for a moment, as if it had skipped a beat.
‘Such… beautiful eyes. I used to think they were frightening…’
Indeed, Carlisle’s purple eyes had an uncanny, almost intimidating quality at first glance.
But now, looking closer, she couldn’t imagine a more beautiful pair existing in this world.
At their first meeting, she’d been so overwhelmed by his notorious reputation that she could barely think straight.
Now, though, she couldn’t help but think there might not be another man alive as handsome as he was.
That flawless, porcelain skin.
That sharply defined nose.
That firm, handsome mouth.
Even his hands—how could a man’s hands be that soft and slender?
Perhaps this was how the fairy-tale hero who once enchanted a goddess—only to be cursed by the jealous gods and turned into a flower—might have looked.
‘I wonder what his silvery hair would feel like to touch… it must be so soft…’
A blush crept across Evangeline’s cheeks.
‘Truly, he’s so handso—’
And then—
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?!”
“I said, what are you doing right now?”
“Oh! I-I was just—”
“Why are you staring? Did someone tell you you could look a noble in the eye like that?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
Evangeline bowed her head and apologized in a trembling voice.
“Focus.”
“…Yes.”
Snapping herself back to attention at Carlisle’s firm order, Evangeline closed her eyes.
“■■ ■■ ■■■■. ■■ ■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■. ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■……”
Soon, unfamiliar words began to flow from her lips—words Carlisle could not understand.
It was the Spirit Tongue—a language only spirits and their chosen contractors could use.
Slrrrk, slrrrk…
As the ritual began, the ground rippled as though alive—and then, slowly, it took the shape of a person.
That figure perfectly matched Carlisle’s form.
Though made of earth, without color or fine detail, anyone could tell it was him.
Then the earthen Carlisle staggered forward, holding a sword in one hand.
‘It worked.’
The ritual was a success.
Now, the truth of that night would finally be revealed.
Whish, whish—!
The Carlisle of that night swung his sword wildly, erratically.
He moved in a drunken, unsteady way—exactly as the rumors had described him that night.
“Heheheh! What’re they gonna do to me, huh? Hic! I’m a Sigmund by blood! My old man’s the Lord of Decaron! Haha! Hic!”
The drunken Carlisle cursed and ranted, clearly deep in his cups as he staggered back toward the castle.
“Ughhh, I’m sooo drunk… Hic! Soooo—”
Thud!Plop!
He tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his backside.
“Ughhhhhh…”
After groaning for a while, he looked around and shouted at the empty air.
“Wh-who’s there?! Hic! Come out! I’ll kill you all! Hic!”
Waving his sword at nothing, the drunken Carlisle soon seemed to realize no one was there, and pushed himself to his feet.
“Heh, as if anyone would dare touch me. Hahaha! Hic!”
His drunken rambling went on for quite some time after that.
“Buuurp!”
A hearty belch.
“Bleeeergh!”
And then, the pigeons got their breakfast early that morning.
“Mmm…”
He looked around.
Unzipped.
And—
Ssshhhhh—!
Generously watered a nearby tree in the name of environmental care.
Meanwhile, the real Carlisle muttered under his breath—
“…What the hell.”
Evangeline let out a deep sigh of disbelief.
“…My lord,”
Maranello groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“That’s not me.”
Carlisle pointed at his mud counterpart and stated the truth.
Sadly, no one believed him.
“Ah, yes… of course, if you say so, my lord,” Evangeline replied flatly.
“Yes, naturally, if the young master says it wasn’t him, then it mustn’t have been,” added Maranello, his voice dripping with irony.
“It wasn’t me.”
Carlisle felt wronged, but as he thought about it—perhaps this was simply karma for inhabiting a scoundrel’s body.
Still, that didn’t mean he had to be treated like garbage.
“I told you not to look nobles in the eye, didn’t I? Turn around, cover your ears, and control your expression.”
“…Yes, my lord.”
Evangeline, still mortified by what she’d just witnessed, turned away and covered her ears.
“What about you?”
“Do I have to as well, young master?” Maranello asked.
“No exceptions.”
“…Hah.”
“If you wanted exceptions, you should’ve been a real noble, not a half one.”
“….”
“A proper butler should shield his master’s shame, not stand around gawking at it.”
Maranello said nothing, though inwardly he thought: ‘If this isn’t shame, what is? Maybe it’s better this one died after all.’
Carlisle silently agreed—watching his predecessor’s antics was punishment enough.
‘How long is this mess supposed to last?’
He folded his arms, watching the farce with growing irritation.
Then—
“Huff… huff!”
From a distance, a figure of dirt resembling Alberto appeared, stumbling and gasping before collapsing to the ground.
He was panting hard, limping—clearly exhausted.
“Wh-who are you? Hic!”
“You… who are you… huff… huff!”
“Damn it. Of all people to run into… this drunk bastard… huff!”
“I asked who you are, you little shit! Hic! How dare a filthy commoner ignore a noble—”
Then—
“Did you think you could keep running forever?”
“We told you to give up. You should’ve listened.”
“You bastard. Because of you, two of our comrades are dead.”
Three figures—Jeffrey and his men, the witnesses of that night—appeared, surrounding Alberto.
Each drew a weapon. It was clear now—they had chased Alberto here.
“Well, look who it is. Isn’t that the Sigmund family’s crazy drunk?”
“Shit. Things just got complicated.”
“This’ll get messy.”
Alberto, too, looked horrified to find himself face-to-face with Carlisle.
Of all people, why did it have to be him?
“M-My lord! You have to get away! Those bastards—!”
“Who are you?” Carlisle barked and swung his sword at him.
“You fool! You idiotic drunk bastard!”
Alberto dove aside, shouting in frustration.
“Oh ho, looks like the crazy noble’s on our side, huh? Hahaha! Guess even trash can be useful sometimes! Let’s finish this!”
Jeffrey grinned and rushed forward with his men.
And thus began a bizarre three-way battle.
Soon, the drunken Carlisle shifted targets—from Alberto to Jeffrey and his men.
“Hic! You bastards! How dare you! Hic!”
Even drunk, some instinct told him who the real enemies were.
The fight became two against three: Carlisle and Alberto versus Jeffrey’s group.
Not that it helped. Carlisle’s staggering swordsmanship was more hazard than help, and Alberto was near collapse from exhaustion.
“Huff… huff!”
Then came the decisive moment.
“M-My lord!”
Alberto hurled himself in front of Carlisle, taking a sword meant for him.
Splatter!
Blood flew. Alberto fell.
“My lord… r-run…! Th-those men… they’re…”
He never finished his sentence.
“Hic?”
And then Alberto was gone.
“Just knock him out. Killing the noble will make this worse.”
“Agreed.”
Jeffrey’s group swiftly overpowered the drunken Carlisle and rendered him unconscious.
“Now what?”
“What else? Give him this.”
Jeffrey pulled out a small vial and poured its contents into the unconscious Carlisle’s mouth.
“He won’t remember anything for about an hour. Let’s clean this up and get out of here.”
“You mean… pin it all on him?”
“Exactly.”
“Makes sense. Everyone will believe it was the crazy noble anyway.”
Jeffrey’s men worked quickly, manipulating the scene with practiced ease.
Soon, the earthen figures of Carlisle, Alberto, and Jeffrey’s group all crumbled like sandcastles.
Carlisle covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, turning to Maranello.
“How dare they—!”
Maranello’s fury was palpable.
Fwoooosh—!
The air around him blazed with his energy. In that moment, it was clear why he’d once been called the Grim Reaper of the North.
“You saw it, right? I didn’t kill him.”
“Yes, my lord,” Maranello growled, his eyes burning.
“I saw it clearly. I’ll hunt those bastards down this instant—”
“Wait.”
“We must report this to the Grand Duke immed—”
“I said wait.”
“Before dawn breaks, I’ll have those villains captu—”
“Ssshh.”
Carlisle frowned.
“I said wait. If we move now, it’ll backfire.”
“Backfire? What do you mean?”
“If we arrest them immediately, what do you think the people of Decaron will believe?”
“…Hmm.”
“They’ll think my father fabricated everything to protect me. They’ll curse us, say all nobles are the same. No—this has to be revealed publicly, in court. Only then will the people see the truth for themselves.”
“You wish to make it… dramatic, then?”
“Not exactly,” Carlisle replied, glancing at Evangeline.
“You’ve done well. I’ll see you at the trial. Until then, stay put and keep quiet.”
“Yes, my lord.”
With that, Carlisle turned and walked toward the castle.
