MDRH 77

Chapter 77

It was past midnight.

Elbadin sat in his office, absentmindedly turning a glass vial of potion in his hand.

Just then, Riat entered, carrying a letter that had arrived at the ducal estate.

“Your Grace, a letter has come from Baron Barthold Jaeger.”

“Jaeger?” Elbadin tilted his head.

“The lord of the Mavrano territory?”

“Yes, sir.”

Baron Jaeger had treated the people of House Descartes with the utmost courtesy when they were traveling to the capital.

Elbadin easily recalled the man’s appearance and manner of speech.

When Elbadin gave a small nod and lowered his gaze again to the vial, Riat unfolded the letter and began to read.

After a slight pause, Riat spoke.

“Your Grace, Baron Jaeger wishes to visit the ducal estate.”

Elbadin leaned back in his chair and raised one eyebrow.

“Ah, yes. I recall he mentioned at a dinner that he might call on me. He also said he had an adopted daughter, didn’t he?”

“That’s correct. In his letter, he asks if he may bring her along. I suspect he intends to create some connection between his foster daughter and the young lord.”

Elbadin hummed softly.

Truthfully, it was not a particularly welcome request.

He had never cared for letting outsiders into the ducal residence.

The place was already brimming with children of extraordinary talents.

To allow in someone who was neither kin nor sworn vassal was not something he could look forward to.

But still—

“Since he showed us courtesy, I cannot simply ignore him. Choose an appropriate day and invite him.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Riat bowed lightly.

Then, noticing the vial Elbadin was idly rolling in his hand, he asked,

“Is that the potion Lady Lucillea made?”

“Ah… yes.”

“I’ve heard that the young lord and several other children received some as gifts as well.”

Elbadin gave a derisive snort.

“I didn’t provide her with ingredients just so she could hand them out like candy.”

Who did she take after, really? He clicked his tongue.

Riat gave a faint smile.

“Lord Arkel himself guaranteed its effects. Why not try it, Your Grace?”

“……”

At Riat’s suggestion, Elbadin glanced at the papers on his desk. A rough scan told him he had about an hour of free time.

With a reluctant sigh, he rose from his chair.

“Very well.”

He went straight to his chambers.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Elbadin downed Lucillea’s potion in a single gulp without hesitation.

At first, he felt nothing.

For a moment he thought it might have been better spent reading another document.

Still, the Tower Master would hardly lie about such things. With that thought, he lay back, closed his eyes, and decided to trust it.

Exactly one hour later.

At the hour when the entire household slept, Elbadin’s eyes opened.

“…Remarkable.”

He rubbed his chin and murmured to himself.

It had been precisely one hour.

He hadn’t lain down in a bed for over a month, too busy with endless tasks.

There were times he dozed off in his chair, but never deeply.

And yet, after only an hour—just as Arkel had said—he felt as if he’d had half a day’s deep, refreshing sleep. His mind was clear, and his body felt light.

With a chuckle, he picked up the empty vial from his nightstand and rolled it lightly in his hand.

“Silent night… holy night…” he whispered.

Yes, it suited that child perfectly.

At that moment, Riat entered.

“You’re already awake?”

Elbadin set down the vial and rose from the bed.

“You could sleep longer, Your Grace.”

“No need. I don’t feel tired.”

Riat’s gaze drifted to the empty bottle.

“…Don’t tell me it truly worked?”

“Astonishingly well.”

Riat’s tired eyes widened, and he spoke in a pleading tone.

“…Could I perhaps… have just one bottle?”

“……”

Seasons changed again after Arkel left the ducal estate.

In most lands, it would have been the height of cool autumn.

But in the northern duchy, it was winter as always.

Lucillea was, as ever, in her workshop.

The potion she had distributed to a select few as a trial had been surprisingly well received, leaving her busier than expected.

Her body was weary, but her heart was light.

She wished every day could be like this.

Peaceful.

The title of “strongest alchemist on the continent” no longer felt so impossibly distant.

Moreover—

‘Lately, His Grace doesn’t even feel that intimidating anymore.’

Despite what Arkel had told her, the constant dread that Elbadin might discover she was his daughter had eased considerably.

Perhaps her wariness had slackened.

‘But maybe… that’s not such a bad thing.’

If only time could pass quietly, without major incident, until she came of age.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Lucillea inhaled deeply and reached again for the bubbling vial in front of her.

‘Focus!’

Bubble, bubble— She drew out a fine thread of mana from her fingertips, weaving it into the distiller.

The murky black liquid instantly cleared into a crystal transparency.

Exact temperature. Exact proportions. Exact mana control.

Success and failure were separated by the thinnest of lines.

As she blended in the prepared ingredients, Lucillea hummed to herself.

‘Taste sweet, taste bright! Sweet and sour, zap!’

Sometimes she even muttered strange little chants under her breath.

It was fun.

The process itself, and the soon-to-be-finished result, filled her with joy.

The useless Lucillea of the past no longer existed.

The girl who had been beaten daily, starved, and uncertain whether she would even survive the next day was gone.

Now she could dream of a future—and even be grateful for the fact that she could dream at all.

All of it was thanks to this ducal household.

Drip, drip, drip…

The liquid, filtered through bay leaves, fell slowly into a glass bottle, filling it drop by drop.

Another vial of “Silent Night, Holy Night” was coming to life—destined for Elbadin, Riat, and Zed.

Lucillea smiled as she watched the potion accumulate, her heart light.

Creating something with her own hands, bringing it into being—it was a wondrous thrill.

But…

There was one thing that nagged at her.

‘The world beyond the wooden door…’

Once a week or so, she would see it, as if in a dream—the wooden door in the library.

And she would open it.

In those moments, she never even thought it might be a dream.

Each time, she would pass through the door, run about with Cookie, and collapse into sleep again.

Another strange thing:

[It’s not a dream, I’m telling you! I saw it! I really saw it!]

Cookie claimed to have experienced the exact same dream.

“So then, what? Did we really open that door and go inside?”

[Of course we did!]

But whenever Lucillea deliberately went to the library in search of that door, it was nowhere to be found.

Even the pendant remained still.

“How peculiar. What determines when that garden appears?”

[Ah~~ just talking about it makes me want to go again! The scent there was so wonderful!]

Lucillea couldn’t deny it.

And not just the scent.

The trickling stream tasted like cold water mixed with honey, sweet and refreshing. The flowers, fruits, even the breeze—everything was enchanting.

What drew her curiosity most was that every plant she saw there was completely new to her.

‘The problem is, I can’t go whenever I want.’

She pulled the chain of her necklace from beneath her clothes, staring hard at the world-tree-shaped pendant.

“You’re the key, aren’t you? And you’re just playing coy, pretending otherwise. Right?!”

But the pendant did not stir.

At that moment, someone knocked at the door of her workshop.

Knock, knock—

Lucillea quickly tucked the necklace back inside her clothes and answered.

“Come in!”

The door opened, and May entered.

“May!”

Lucillea hopped down from her footstool and bounded toward her.

“What is it? Is it already mealtime?”

May smiled.

“Not yet. Are you hungry? Shall I bring you a snack?”

Lucillea laughed and shook her head.

“No, I can wait. So why are you here?”

“Baron Barthold Jaeger has arrived.”

Ah, right!

“He brought the young lady he adopted, didn’t he?”

May nodded, taking Lucillea’s hand.

“Yes. They’ll be passing through the front gate soon. We should wait for them in the reception room.”

“Okay!”

Together, they left the workshop with cheerful steps.

Lucillea’s laughter rang through the corridor.

And at that very moment, the front gates of the ducal estate swung open.