MLBR 24

chapter 24

At the Gray Duke’s residence, there was a staircase leading underground. It was hidden in secrecy, used only by Whistler, the former Duke and Duchess of Gray, and a very small number of knights.

Today, Whistler opened the iron gate with its heavy lock and set foot on those steps. Boom. The door shut, leaving nothing but darkness.

Accustomed to navigating the dark, Whistler stretched out his hand. A murky orb flickered to life in his palm, as if coursed with electricity. Its faint glow was enough to light the way.

As he walked down the long corridor, he heard it—clang! clang!—the sound of chains being pulled and then violently yanked.

When Whistler reached the end of the hallway, he raised the glowing orb.

“Soon, even this curse will be yours to bear. Then, perhaps I’ll get another chance.”

Whistler stared directly at the wolf, his eyes twisted with fury.

“Heraise, Gray.”

The beast before him was twice his size, breathing in deep, heavy gasps. Half human, half monster, the wolf was grotesque to behold. And yet, Whistler did not tremble in the slightest.

On the contrary, he stood arrogant and defiant.

“You’ve returned because of Philena, haven’t you?”

Grrr, grrr. The wolf gripped the iron bars but made no wild commotion. Fierce yet strangely calm—it was a peculiar beast.

“Philena told me today she wanted to spend some time with me.”

“……”

“What are you doing to that innocent girl?”

The wolf let out a low howl, and Whistler gave a hollow laugh.

“What? Are you trying to tell me you liked Philena before I did? And you expect me to believe the words of a beast like you?”

Whistler’s face hardened into a scowl, shadows deepening across his features.

“If you hadn’t returned, everything would have gone exactly as I planned. The rumors about Philena? I spread them to keep her within my boundary until I could regain the power that should have been mine. But you—!”

He drew in a breath, steadying himself.

“No, I shouldn’t even call you ‘you.’ Let’s be honest. You, yes, you. A beast like you has no right to lay claim to Philena.”

His tone turned mocking, dripping with derision.

“The only one who should be by Philena’s side is me. Then she’ll have no choice but to change her feelings toward me. To change her attitude. To love me.”

In that instant, the wolf lunged forward with terrifying force, slamming against the bars as though to shatter them.

Crash! A deafening roar erupted as violet energy surged upward, a magic circle flaring to life around the cage. The wolf thrashed in madness, but there was no escape.

“Look around you. See the reputation that surrounds you. Know your place.”

Whistler’s lip curled into a crooked smirk.

“Philena will realize it soon enough. She’ll wake up and understand. That she’ll be more comfortable by my side, that she’ll be better off, happier. That I’m far more attractive than you could ever be.”

He shrugged casually.

“Wasn’t it me who spent time with Philena when she was a child? Wasn’t it me who stayed by her side after she became an adult? In the end, she’s mine.”

The strange orb of magic in his hand flickered and dimmed. From within the darkness, the wolf howled and thrust his fur-covered hand through the bars, only to be struck by a sudden sphere of shadow.

“…Soon, I’ll be rid of this power as well. And then, I’ll no longer have to lay eyes on you.”

“Shall I stop here?”

I had just finished today’s research as usual, with the latest novel open in front of me. Beside my research notes lay a letter, ready to be sent to Heraise the day after tomorrow.

It would be exactly one week since Heraise’s promise. Just thinking of our upcoming conversation lifted my spirits.

I stood and stretched, glancing toward the window. The unusually bright moonlight drew my eyes.

“With the full moon tonight, the waning half-moon will come in a few days.”

I preferred the half-moon. Slanted beauty suited me better than perfect roundness.

“I never used to care what phase the moon was in.”

Back then, I had no concern for dates, weather, or seasons. My only focus had been to eat, sleep, survive, and grow old.

The road ahead was long, but life now felt fuller, more vivid than before.

“I should invest in tomorrow’s paper too. How many gold will be enough?”

Anyone who thought the firepower would weaken after three consecutive issues was sorely mistaken. Tomorrow’s publication promised to be just as thrilling.

“Whistler has never once been in the weaker position in a relationship.”

Always the dominant one.

“I still don’t know why he acts like that.”

Not that I cared. Whistler no longer mattered to me.

As the night grew late, I crawled into bed to align my body’s rhythm. Wrapped in warmth, even my worries about the future seemed to fade.

And so, the day of the new Saintess’s first prophecy drew near.

The Day of the Saintess’s Prophecy. Unlike the Selection Ceremony, the exact date of the prophecy was never fixed.

The temple would prepare once the Saintess began to accept the mysterious divine power. The signs differed for each Saintess, but most often some physical change occurred—nails, eyes, or hair all shifting color at once.

It was said to be painful, though perhaps the author hadn’t bothered to explain the details properly.

In any case, that was the Saintess’s burden. I had my own preparations to make.

If the Selection Ceremony was a day for the Saintess herself, the Prophecy was a day for the Empire’s citizens. Which meant I was expected to adorn myself more extravagantly than ever.

Once, I would have found that bothersome. But now I welcomed it. I had a goal.

I’ll appear flawless, stealing every gaze. To shed my villainess image, I must perfect my appearance. My fashion is already becoming a hot topic.

Today’s newspaper was a priceless motivator. The front page carried a photo of Whistler and me, yet the tone of slander against me had noticeably softened.

That was thanks to the disguised reporter who’d helped keep his identity hidden. I hadn’t expected gratitude to be shown so directly, but it had worked out in my favor. My ability to turn the situation to my advantage impressed even me.

Developing so quickly by the day—surely that was proof I was a genius, more than qualified to stand as Heraise’s partner, no matter how eccentric he was.

“Young Lady, the attention you’re getting is incredible!”

Clara beamed as we headed toward the designer’s shop.

“Everyone’s so curious now, not about the ‘villainess,’ but about who you really are. Oh my!”

I nodded. Heraise and I had indeed planned to ride this wave by fully engaging in social activities together.

“It feels like I’ve become the heroine’s maid in a story myself,” Clara added brightly.

I had told Clara about most of the public incidents, like my meeting with Whistler. She had been with me for so long that hiding everything was impossible. Unlike Heraise, I couldn’t just act recklessly on my own as a noble’s daughter.

Besides, Clara’s ideas often gave me inspiration.

“If you’re the heroine, and the Duke of Gray is the male lead… then who’s the villainess? Is there one?”

“…The Marquis of Gas, maybe?”

For Heraise and me, Whistler was undeniably the true villain. The problem was, the world at large refused to see it that way.

“Oh, come now, my lady. Yes, the Marquis of Gas has kept his distance from you, and yes, he’s been something of an obstacle between you and the Duke. But a villainess? Certainly not. He’s still the Marquis of Gas.”

Watching Clara emphasize that point, I realized something important: even if Whistler wasn’t enough, there needed to be some other obstacle between Heraise and me for the plot to remain interesting.

Villain… or villainess.

And a face came to mind.

Mille. The female lead of the original story before the remake—and the Saintess of this land.