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Chapter 15
Deamon walked across the mansion’s front courtyard and approached the waiting carriage.
Clarissa was visible inside, leaning against the window with her eyes closed.
“Milon.”
Milon, holding the reins, bowed his head.
“Yes, Master.”
“I’ll take the carriage. You bring that girl along behind us.”
At Deamon’s order, Milon glanced at Miranda.
Fortunately, she didn’t seem too heavy to carry on horseback.
“Understood, Master. What about your horse?”
“Leave it at old Monde’s stable. Tell them I said he should ride it back.”
“W-who is? Where?”
“There’s no need to explain. See you at the mansion.”
Walking around the carriage, Deamon entered and sat beside Clarissa.
Even as the carriage began to move, Clarissa didn’t stir at all. Glancing at her, he saw she was in a completely defenseless, deep sleep.
‘Did she come all the way here because of that magic doll?’
A box beside her caught his attention. Opening it, he found a doll with wheat-colored hair and blue-gray eyes.
“Valentine?”
Judging from the elaborate imperial attire it wore, it was clearly Crown Prince Valentine.
She had once said she wanted her own magic doll, and he had assumed she would commission one of herself. So why had she made a Valentine doll instead?
He had thought she’d just keep a doll of herself by her bed, so this was absurd.
At that moment, Aileen’s words came back to him.
“Clarissa is trying to flirt with Crown Prince Valentine.”
“You don’t plan to keep living with a woman who cheats, do you?”
Back then, he hadn’t paid her words any attention.
Aileen had always been good at fabricating lies and pushing Clarissa into traps.
But seeing a doll that perfectly resembled Valentine’s hair and eye color made him think.
Perhaps there really was something between Clarissa and Valentine.
‘Disgusting.’
Still, it was unlikely they had any romantic feelings, as Aileen suggested.
So what then—friendship? Whatever it was, if it interfered with his plans, it had to be stopped.
And he also needed to find out what Clarissa had talked about with Murray, and why there was a bandage wrapped around her left ring finger.
Deamon reached out and grabbed her hand, intending to read her memories through perception magic.
【That will be 3,800 won. Do you have a discount or rewards card?】
Startled, Deamon immediately let go of her hand.
‘What was that just now?’
It was an unfamiliar space.
Strange objects filled the place. And the man reflected in her vision had black hair and black eyes—an appearance not belonging to this world.
“Am I dreaming?”
Deamon reached for Clarissa’s hand again.
At that moment, she let out a low groan and slumped forward into his chest.
“Ugh.”
Her breath against his neck was burning hot. Her entire body felt like fire.
“Mm… Deamon… so handsome… my favorite…”
Muttering nonsense, Clarissa burrowed deeper into his arms.
Deamon, who already tended to run hot, felt even more suffocated.
Still, he couldn’t push away someone delirious with fever.
‘I can’t afford for her to be sick right now.’
At the banquet on the eve of Crown Prince Valentine’s engagement ceremony, he needed her to appear healthy and act affectionately with him.
That way, Duke Raktin would let his guard down, and Deamon could retrieve the grimoire.
The grimoire that sealed Count Roche’s ability. The sacred relic his father had protected until his death.
If he obtained it, he would gain the full power of the Roche line.
For that grand plan to succeed, Clarissa needed to attend the engagement eve banquet in good condition and properly fulfill her role as Baron Craig’s wife.
‘I told you to use her, Clarissa. That’s the condition of this marriage.’
If he was concerned about her condition, it was only because he feared she might become too ill to attend the banquet.
It was late at night, and the carriage moved slowly. There was still a long way to the Middletown estate.
“Annoying.”
In the end, Deamon created an ice pack with magic and placed it on her forehead. When that still didn’t seem enough, he sent a stream of cold air from his palm.
The ice pack and cool wind seemed to work; Clarissa’s furrowed brow slowly smoothed out.
“Deamon is totally my type. I love sexy villains.”
She murmured with a faint smile. Deamon stared at her, wondering if she was pretending to sleep—but it didn’t seem so.
‘Looks like I’m even appearing in her strange dreams.’
Though irritated, he continued sending cool air toward her.
A few hours later, the carriage finally stopped in front of the Middletown estate.
“Gosling. So you weren’t asleep. Take care of the mistress.”
After getting off, Deamon ordered the butler who had come to greet them, then immediately headed inside.
“Have a pleasant night.”
“I have to go out again.”
With that, Deamon disappeared.
“Go out again at this hour…?”
Muttering to himself, Gosling opened the carriage door to help Clarissa out.
At that moment, a freezing gust of air—like a winter blade—burst out from inside the carriage.
“Gah! What is this?! M-Madam! Madam?!”
Clarissa, who had been sleeping peacefully, opened her eyes.
“Gosling? We’re home already? Ahh, I slept well.”
“You… you slept soundly in a freezing carriage?”
“Freezing? It’s so warm out.”
Her forehead and neck were damp, as if she had broken a fever and sweated it out.
Wiping herself with a handkerchief, she stepped down.
“Ahh, I feel great. I thought I was coming down with something, but I feel so light.”
Humming, Clarissa walked into the mansion.
The butler tilted his head.
“Did she… get healthier on the way back?”
Back in my room, I wanted to wash with warm water.
“Miranda, prepare a bath for me. Make the water hotter than usual.”
The feverish feeling was gone, but my hands and face were strangely cold.
While Miranda prepared the bath, I rested for a moment.
Then—
Tap tap.
A sound came from the window.
A pigeon was sitting on the terrace railing.
“Why is a pigeon awake at this hour?”
I opened the door leading to the terrace, and the pigeon quickly waddled toward me.
[Waited a long time. Coo. So sleepy. Coo.]
[You waited for me?]
[Take this. Coo.]
It held out its foot.
“A messenger pigeon? Who sent me a message? Oh!”
Attached to its leg was a letter stamped with the imperial eagle seal.
“Valentine sent this.”
The pigeon seemed to be his.
I forgive your rudeness. Recover quickly.
After reading the letter, I smiled faintly.
It seemed the carriage driver who received the gold coin had done his job well. Valentine must have heard what happened from him—including Aileen’s insult and Deamon’s actions.
“Good.”
Now the magic sword was practically in my hands.
[Good work. It’s late, so stay here and leave for the Crown Prince’s palace tomorrow morning.]
[Food and water. I’m tired. Coo.]
The pigeon flapped in and landed on my sofa cushion.
“Looks like I’m hosting a noble pigeon tonight.”
Still, I felt in a good mood. Everything seemed to be going my way.
It was the eve of Crown Prince Valentine and Aileen’s engagement ceremony.
The ceremony would be held at the imperial palace tomorrow. There was no need for an additional pre-party, yet Duke Raktin insisted on holding one.
It seemed like a way to gather his closest allies, display his power, and line up those loyal to him.
Or perhaps he simply wanted to receive gifts and bribes to compensate for declining salt profits.
I opened the window and smiled at the gloomy weather.
“Looks like it might pour.”
At my words, Miranda nodded.
“It looks like a storm is coming.”
To prepare for rain, I handed her my coat.
“Miranda, bring yours too. Otherwise you’ll end up looking like a drenched rat.”
The coat woven from stormwood repelled rain well, though wearing it in heat made you sweat heavily.
Today was cool, so it should be fine.
“Please wait in the lobby while I get mine.”
“I’ll wait downstairs.”
“Thank you, Madam.”
We headed toward the stairs.
“By the way, Madam, shouldn’t you wear the necklace the Master gave you today? It was your first gift after marriage.”
“The necklace?”
I replied indifferently.
“What if the Master asks about it?”
“He probably already forgot he gave it to me. If you don’t like it, keep it or sell it and buy something you want.”
“…You’re still angry about the carriage accident, aren’t you?”
At the memory, pain seemed to echo through my body again.
“It’s not anger. I’m just thinking about survival. If I live well, you can live well too.”
“I always follow you, Madam. That’s why I need to tell you something.”
Miranda turned toward me tightly gripping her skirt.
“What is it that you’re staring so seriously about?”
“That day… the carriage accident… Master and Lady Aileen left you injured and went to have tea. I thought that was all, but later I heard something strange.”
“Strange?”
“A friend of mine, who works as a maid at Marquis Heinz’s kitchen, said she saw the Master at the market. He was dragging Lady Aileen into a secluded alley…”
At that moment, my imagination took a dangerous turn.
‘Don’t tell me… Deamon and Aileen?’
Because I had already heard rumors from maid Anne that Deamon might have a mistress, my mind immediately pictured the two of them together.
I shut my eyes tightly.
If he truly hated the Raktin bloodline that much, maybe he was using Aileen for revenge.
Perhaps the easiest revenge of all—ruining Aileen so she could no longer become empress.
“Miranda. I don’t want to hear it. Don’t say another word.”
“Eh? But you really need to hear this.”
“I said I don’t need to. Whether they kissed, hugged, or even slept together—I don’t care.”
