“They said a tiny needle crawler was in the salad bowl? That’s never happened before! Good heavens!”
By the time Ione returned to her bedroom, her appetite gone, Catherine had already rushed in—clearly having heard the news.
With blonde hair, blue eyes, and a frosty demeanor typical of Northerners, Catherine’s anxiety was an unexpected contrast—but her concern still gave Ione a sense of relief.
“Are you all right?”
“There’s no bite, so don’t worry.”
Ione replied nonchalantly, though her hands trembled. In this place, letting down one’s guard for a moment could mean death. While the others at the Duke’s estate treated it as no big deal, it was entirely different for Ione—she had no seal.
Moreover…
“Could I see your dagger? I was just curious what kind you carry.”
“Ah, of course. Only the head maid and the floor supervisors have special daggers—everyone else has the same kind.”
Ione gave a wry smile as she examined the dagger Catherine handed her. She had half-jokingly asked because she’d seen Helena swing one with grace, but here, carrying a weapon seemed universal—even this sweet-looking maid had drawn a dagger with effortless ease.
But Ione had neither a seal nor any means of defense.
“At this point… I might as well look like a perfectly peeled boiled egg to any monster.”
A sudden tightening gripped her throat. In that moment, the man who might kill her—the Empire’s finest magic swordsman, Adrian van Preses—felt like the only thing she needed.
She wasn’t supposed to want him—but with each moment, her need for him grew. It felt like she was being funneled toward a predetermined ending, which made her achingly sad.
“I don’t want to die.”
“Of course not, Your Grace!”
Catherine blurted it so loudly and earnestly that Ione nearly leapt in surprise.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you!”
The sight of the young maid, cheeks still soft, gripping her dagger with determined eyes was impossibly endearing. Ione caught herself from smiling.
“There have been more monster sightings lately, but the Duke’s estate is truly safe.
”
Ah—so she’s oblivious to danger.
Ione’s smile faded.
When Adrian arrived at the “
nest
,” he was greeted by a dazzling array of magical formations.
Brilliant enchantments layered the sky, a divine contrast to the brooding forest below. The Black Forest, the setting sun, and the softly glowing runes created a breathtaking scene—one that would make anyone rub their eyes in disbelief.
But Adrian simply sighed, his expression twisting.
“What is this crude mess?”
“Crude?!”
snapped Seten, the mage maintaining the barrier.
“
How much mana did you dump into this?”
“It’s not about dumping—ugh.”
Seten broke off mid-argue, swallowing hard.
Adrian raised one eyebrow. Seten’s breath carried the metallic tang of exhaustion—he had clearly pushed his magic past its limit.
“Every time I see this, I’m reminded: ‘
Yes, this is foolishness.’”
He ignored Seten’s outburst and pointed at the barrier surrounding the forest.
“Even if it doesn’t hold, the forest entrance barrier will. Squeezing every drop of mana into this? Foolishness.”
Seten shot back sharply,
“So I should just trust the elusive Duke to show up? And when this fails, whose life will pay the price?!”
Before things escalated, Orgen stepped between them.
“Seten, please.”
Seten, a mage beyond human bounds—an 8th-circle master. And Adrian, a dragon’s blessed warrior—more beast than man. If they clashed, it would be cataclysmic.
“Seten, please.”
Orgen called gently, not to Adrian, but to Seten. At least Seten understood empathy.
“Why?”
Seten responded irritably to Orgen’s pleas—red hair, sharp eyes, somewhere between youth and maturity. No one knew his age or origin; he had overseen the Northern Tower since before any dukes of record.
He cared deeply for the land’s people—and that’s why Orgen clung to him.
“Please…”
“If you fear the barrier will fail, I’ll add another layer.”
Orgen’s relief was visible—but Adrian’s next words drained color from Seten’s face.
“Your Grace! Please!”
Orgen rushed to steady Seten—his hands were wrecked from days of tracing multiple magical seals. He had bitten his own fingers to keep the magics flowing.
“You know how he is. Filter his words.”
Orgen spoke rapidly,
“Look at your hands—damaged, almost destroyed. You didn’t need to break yourself for this barrier.”
“How is that an insult?”
Seten pouted but accepted Orgen’s supportive hand. He had reached his limit days ago.
And yet, with no incantations, Adrian had drawn a massive dome-shaped veil over the entire forest—translucent, silver-tinged, flawlessly sealing it off.
It was a sight of true wonder.
“That monster…”
Seten couldn’t hide his awe. Even a mage like him paled before Adrian’s draconic might.
A barrier encasing the entire Black Forest—Adrian had done it without a single labored breath.
“Sorry for the delay. Something came up at the main estate—I couldn’t leave.”
“I guessed as much.”
Orgen handed a flask of warm soup to the exhausted mage, who accepted it gratefully.
“How did you know?”
“Well, if it were monster-related, the Duke would drop everything and come running. Didn’t the Grand Duchess arrive?”
“Yes, but—now isn’t the time for that. Please, just have your soup.”
Orgen’s gentle words and care visibly eased Seten’s expression. After a few sips, he looked much better.
Meanwhile, knights arrived with more flasks, carrying them to the edge of the forest.
“Hmph. Do those knights even know where they’re going?”
“They grew up in the North—they may be slow, but they won’t get lost.”
Orgen, knowing full well their capabilities, couldn’t help but smile. A centuries-old being may be different from ordinary people—but in this, he was unmistakably human, unlike even the blessed Adrian.
“That’s why you’re so kind.”
“Don’t flatter me.”
Seten murmured, not displeased. At just that moment, the forest fell eerily silent as Adrian’s magic took effect. The black forest was fully enveloped in his barrier.
Harsh wind, driving snow, even the monsters’ snarls—all muted. Another world lay within.
Seten swallowed hard, astonished at the perfect seal even air couldn’t penetrate.
“Heh.”
The mage’s silence spoke volumes. There stood Adrian—chillingly perfect, at one with the white world, beautiful and devoid of warmth, radiating immense power.
“He really is a monster.”
“A remarkable man, isn’t he?”
“Are you just flattering because he’s your master?”
“Hardly. I’d be pleased if you thought me honest.”
Orgen collected the empty flask from Seten and began organizing the area.
“You’ve done well. The Duke will finish this. You should return to the estate and rest.”
“Now that we’re done?”
“Of course. You deserve proper rest after all your work.”
Hearing such deference, Seten narrowed his eyes—something about Orgen’s humility felt… peculiar.
Orgen Hatzler was natural in his integrity—solid and unassuming, like a smooth river stone. Principled, perhaps stubborn—but always reliable.
Yet now he was groveling? Seten frowned and studied Orgen’s bowed posture carefully.
Sure, Orgen was thoughtful and considerate—but this was far beyond.
He had his lines, and crossing them would earn a harsh rebuke—yet here he was, urging Seten to rest.
Suspicious indeed.
“Something’s off.”