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Prologue
The House of Reston, Grand Dukes of the North. For generations, it had been renowned for its overwhelming military strength and immense wealth. Every successive head of the family had gone down in the Empire’s history as a Sword Master.
And yet, the woman now seated as the Grand Duke of Reston was not a swordswoman, but a mage. Ironically, she was neither born in the North nor a blood descendant of the Reston family.
Standing faithfully at her side, her aide lowered his head.
“Your Grace, what shall we do?”
The conference hall was as frigid as the northern air itself. The assembled nobles did not dare meet her gaze, keeping their eyes fixed on the floor.
Like true northern aristocrats, they possessed sturdy physiques, and their hands were calloused from years of wielding swords. Those marks proved they were by no means weak men. Yet they trembled like tiny beasts standing before a predator.
“Must you ask me such an obvious question?”
Her face was as cold as the atmosphere filling the hall.
Or rather, that was only an assumption.
The only thing visible to them was the icy black mask concealing her features.
The nobles stole nervous glances at her, desperately searching for a way to salvage the situation. But the black mask that hid all emotion only deepened their terror.
“W-Well… the matter grew far beyond our expectations.”
“T-That’s right! We never forgot our duties!”
“W-We simply couldn’t bring the situation under control…”
Encouraged by the fact that she merely watched them in silence, the nobles hurriedly piled excuse upon excuse.
“It grew beyond your expectations. You never forgot your duties. You couldn’t bring the situation under control.”
She repeated their words exactly as they had spoken them.
“Are those not all simply confessions of your own incompetence?”
At her words, the nobles froze as though their breathing had stopped.
Without taking her indifferent eyes off them, she addressed her aide.
“If it were you, how would you deal with them?”
“The incompetent are no different from garbage.”
His answer seemed to please her.
“Garbage…”
Her voice softened ever so slightly.
Unable to protest the Grand Duke herself, the nobles instead turned their fury toward the aide.
“How dare a fallen noble speak!”
“You insignificant worm! Know your place!”
Watching them with cold indifference, she quietly spoke.
“Enough.”
The conference hall, moments ago filled with shouting, fell silent in an instant.
Her voice had not been loud.
Yet even the smallest movement from her was enough to terrify them.
“Your Grace, doesn’t garbage belong in the trash?”
The aide’s words drained the last traces of color from the nobles’ faces.
“Indeed.”
It was a simple acknowledgment.
Yet it sounded like a death sentence.
As though it were a signal, the knights standing in formation around the hall moved all at once.
“Y-Your Grace! Please spare us!”
“No! Let go of me, you lunatics!”
“I don’t want to die!”
The nobles’ screams echoed through the hall as they stumbled backward, trying to escape the approaching knights.
She paid them no heed.
As though she could not hear their desperate cries, she simply walked forward.
“You witch!”
“You’re nothing but a lowborn orphan! You don’t even carry the blood of House Reston!”
Their final desperate insults only made the knights’ grip even harsher.
“Argh!”
A single scream rang through the hall before abruptly being cut short.
With it, every voice behind her disappeared.
Thud.
The doors of the conference hall closed.
“The hall will need cleaning after all this. I’ll rest for now.”
Her aide bowed as though accustomed to such orders.
“Yes. Understood.”
As she headed toward her bedroom, the servants immediately stopped in place.
Afraid of provoking her, they lowered their heads without hesitation.
“The Witch of the North…”
A trembling whisper slipped from among them.
“Shh!”
The faces of the surrounding servants turned pale at the reckless words of the newcomer.
She cast an emotionless glance over the deathly silent corridor.
The Slayer of Magical Beasts.
The Witch of the North.
She had once slaughtered a thousand magical beasts single-handedly.
Her very existence was enough to fill others with fear.
“I wish to rest quietly. There is no need to follow me.”
After dismissing those attending her, she entered her room alone.
“Haa…”
Letting out a weary sigh, she removed the mask from her face.
The beauty hidden beneath it was so breathtaking it seemed almost unfair that it had been concealed.
Silver hair shimmered as though sprinkled with crushed diamonds.
Eyes as blue and cold as the frozen sea.
Even those rare colors paled beside the beauty of her face.
“Those damned bastards.”
As the curse escaped her lips, heavy footsteps approached from behind.
“El, tired?”
Strong arms wrapped gently around her as he called her by his affectionate nickname.
Without resisting the weight of his embrace, she sighed even more deeply than before.
“Kyle.”
She looked up at him with complicated emotions.
Black hair like the night sky.
Crimson eyes burning like fire.
Both were unmistakable symbols of House Reston’s bloodline.
He was the one who should have inherited the title of Grand Duke of Reston.
Instead, he had been stripped of his title and reduced to slavery.
And the one responsible for his fall was none other than the current Grand Duke of Reston—
Eloise Reston.
Doesn’t he have any sense? Doesn’t he care what people say about us?
The Witch of the North, who stole the title and imprisoned him in her estate to toy with him.
The fallen heir of House Reston, now a slave, sharpening his blade of revenge.
Their story was one of the favorite topics in taverns and coffeehouses throughout the Empire.
Yet, as if mocking the rumors, the two appeared remarkably close.
“There are quite a few loose tongues among the new servants. Shall I dispose of them?”
Having heard the maid’s whisper all the way from the bedroom with the keen hearing of a Sword Master, he asked casually.
“I hired them on purpose. The looser their tongues are, the more they’ll exaggerate what happens in my office and spread the stories far and wide.”
She shook her head and rubbed her heavy eyelids.
“Go lie down before you return to work.”
“I think I will.”
She slipped out of his embrace and slowly walked toward the bed.
Each sluggish step felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton.
“I’ll help you change.”
Watching her, he spoke naturally.
“Yeah… Wait, what?”
She answered absentmindedly before suddenly snapping awake.
“I’ll attend to you in the bedroom. If you’re going to sleep, that’s only natural.”
He sounded as though she had asked the most ridiculous question.
She froze for a moment before shouting,
“How is that natural?!”
“Mistress, isn’t attending you in the bedroom part of a slave’s duties?”
His voice was soft and teasing.
With a gentle smile, he stepped closer.
As though reminding her of the confession he had made not long ago, he looked irresistibly seductive.
“Y-You! Stop calling me ‘Mistress’!”
The cold, merciless façade of the Grand Duke of the North shattered instantly.
His fingers slowly traced down her arm.
His warm breath drew nearer.
His body pressed closer with careful, almost secretive intimacy.
She unconsciously held her breath.
How did things end up like this?
Eloise stared helplessly at the man before her—the male lead of the original novel she had transmigrated into.
The Grand Duke of the North.
A tyrant.
He was practically the embodiment of every male lead trope in a fantasy romance novel.
And that very man stood before her now.
I did intend to change the story… but…
Why was it that everyone who transmigrated into novels always ended up possessing characters doomed to die?
That had been the first thought she had after realizing this world was the setting of a novel.
Well… she had managed to escape her destined death, at least.
But the original story had gone completely off the rails.
The Grand Duke of the North.
The Tyrant.
Those keywords had somehow been replaced with…
Slave.
