Chapter 100: The Vanished Wife
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 100: The Vanished Wife
The sound of hooves echoed through the night forest, drowning out the cries of wild beasts as five horsemen emerged from the shadows.
They pulled their horses to a stop before a villa tucked deep within the secluded woods. Herdin rode at their center.
As he dismounted and approached the villa, the men guarding the entrance stepped forward to greet him.
"We will show you inside."
Herdin raised a hand, gesturing for the Knights of Delmark to stay back, and entered the villa alone.
The room was shrouded in darkness, save for a single lamp glowing on a central table. A man draped in a robe was seated there.
Herdin pulled a slip of paper from his inner pocket and tossed it onto the table. It was a note that had been delivered to him just an hour ago.
[The deaths of Your Grace's father and mother twelve years ago were not an accident, but a deliberate murder.]
The note, which began with that sentence, concluded with a request to meet face-to-face, stating that this was not a matter to be discussed in writing.
"You wouldn't bring up another man's family tragedy for sport unless you have a death wish," Herdin said. His voice was deceptively calm, but his eyes held a chilling, murderous intent as he stared the man down.
Overwhelmed by the sheer pressure, the man flinched but quickly recovered his composure and replied politely.
"My station is too humble to request an audience with you directly, Your Grace. I feared that sending these documents to the Delmark Ducal Mansion might allow them to fall into the wrong hands, so I had no choice but to invite you to this humble place. Please forgive my insolence."
"Skip the pleasantries and explain. What does this note mean, how did you find out, and how much do you know? Tell me everything."
Without another word, the man handed Herdin a sheaf of documents. On the very first page, a magic circle was drawn.
"We acquired this not long ago. At a glance, it seemed to concern the House of Delmark. I believed seeing it for yourself would be far more efficient than any explanation I could offer."
Herdin eyed the man and the papers with suspicion before picking them up.
The moment his eyes fell upon the handwriting beneath the magic circle, his usually indifferent gaze trembled.
[It is said there exists black magic capable of restoring the Second Constraint of the Divine Beast's Contract, which was severed long ago. Perhaps...]
It was a familiar hand.
It was the very script that had filled the letters that had been his salvation, sent daily during the agonizing years of his youth right after he had lost his parents.
It was Esmeralda's handwriting.
Suddenly, the words Blair had spoken after waking from the kidnapping flashed through his mind.
“It wasn't a memory of the accident, but of Her Majesty the Empress hiding something in her bedroom... Though, in the end, I lost those documents.”
A powerful premonition gripped him: the papers in his hands were the very documents Blair had lost.
"...Where did you get these?"
"A few months ago, a gambler who frequented the dens found them on the street. When he realized the magic circle was black magic, he panicked and pawned them to pay his bar tab before vanishing."
The timeline roughly aligned with the kidnapping incident.
Herdin quickly flipped to the next page.
[...Perhaps Casion and Eloise did not simply die in an accident, but were victims of a deliberate murder.]
It was the exact line from the note the man had sent him. Below it lay the details of Esmeralda's private investigation into Casion's mana rampage, along with her deductions.
[Because the heirs of Delmark carry the risk of a mana rampage, they are trained from childhood to control their power. Casion, in particular, had shown such exceptional talent in wielding and controlling the power of the Divine Beast that even the Elders acknowledged him from an early age. For someone like him to suffer a rampage while fighting a mere magical beast—a beast he had slain countless times? My investigation began with this very question.]
The doubts Esmeralda harbored were the same ones that had plagued Herdin for years. He continued to read, following the thread of her thoughts.
[...While exploring countless possibilities, I learned of a black magic that could restore the Second Constraint of our family's power—a constraint long believed to have been severed.]
When an heir who inherits the power of the Divine Beast shares their first night with the one they love, an imprint is engraved upon their partner, but only if that love is returned. It sounded romantic on the surface, but the reality was the opposite. The imprint acted as a conduit to share mana, allowing the heir to draw upon immense power by using their partner's lifespan as collateral.
Since wielders of such power were constantly in danger, they were forced to weigh the life of their beloved against the safety of the masses. Horrified by this cruel choice, an ancestor of Delmark had severed the constraint entirely. By relinquishing the potential for greater power, their descendants were spared the tragedy of ever having to place their beloved's life on the scales.
This was the truth of the Second Constraint as Herdin knew it. Yet, here was proof of black magic capable of restoring that severed bond.
[If one employs this black magic, an imprint is engraved upon the beloved, just as it was under the original Second Constraint. From that moment on, the heir can wield far greater power at the expense of their partner's lifespan. However, because this is an unnatural restoration of a severed constraint, it carries severe side effects.]
Originally, the Second Constraint operated on the principle of mutual mana sharing. But the version forged through black magic was highly unstable. Once the heir drew upon their partner's life force, it was nearly impossible to stop the flow.
In other words, the cycle could only be broken by the death of one of them.
Esmeralda's notes went on to explain that because the descendants of Delmark had lived for generations without the Second Constraint, they were entirely unaccustomed to sharing mana. Unable to withstand the violent side effects, they were highly susceptible to a catastrophic mana rampage.
[Yet, this remains mere speculation. For this hypothesis to hold true, there must be proof. In my search for evidence, I secured a crucial testimony. A few months before Casion's rampage, Eloise had visited the Temple for charity work and sustained a minor scratch. The cleric who treated her testified that he believed he saw this very black magic circle on her skin.]
As Herdin finished reading, his gaze shook violently.
The presence of the black magic circle meant someone had forcibly restored the Second Constraint. Just as Esmeralda had hypothesized, his parents' deaths were not a tragic accident, but a cold-blooded murder.
[Who on earth could have killed Casion and Eloise? I have one suspect in mind, but...]
With those words, the document abruptly ended. Looking closely at the final page, it was clear that the next sheet had been torn away.
Herdin looked up at the man sitting across from him, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"How much do you want for the next page?"
"Regrettably, what I have given you is all there is."
"I don't care for this kind of bargaining." A merchant's tactics were always transparent. The man was likely holding out, hoping to squeeze a larger sum out of him. While using his family's tragedy as leverage was detestable, the fact that these documents had been brought to him instead of Ivan made them worth paying a premium for. "Name your price. Whatever it is, I'll pay it."
Yet, the man's response remained unchanged. "I am truly sorry, Your Grace."
Herdin let out a dry chuckle, his expression quickly hardening. The man truly possessed nothing more.
"If you aren't after money, what's your motive? From where I stand, pure goodwill offered without any hidden agenda is highly suspicious."
"...Would you believe me if I said I did this to repay a debt of gratitude to the Late Duchess?"
Herdin found himself unable to argue. Even now, more than a decade after Eloise's passing, countless people still revered her memory and kindness.
Studying the man's face with cold, blue eyes to gauge his sincerity, Herdin swallowed a sigh and rose to his feet. Though many questions remained, it was clear he would get nothing more from him tonight.
"If you find the remaining pages, bring them to me."
"Of course, Your Grace."
Leaving the man behind, Herdin walked out of the villa.
As the robed man watched the Duke's retreating figure with tense eyes, his master's voice echoed in his mind.
“Just hand this to Duke Delmark. Tell him you have no knowledge of the remaining pages.”
His master, Mikhail, had said those words as he pocketed the missing sheets. Having delivered the first half to Herdin exactly as ordered, the rest was now up to Mikhail.
"...Everything is as the Master wills."
* * *
By the time Herdin returned to the Delmark Ducal Mansion, the first pale light of dawn was breaking.
He went to his office, placed the documents in his desk drawer, and locked it. Yet, he could not bring himself to leave, remaining seated in silence. The truth he had uncovered overnight left his mind in turmoil.
A heavy wave of conflicting emotions crashed over him: the hollow realization that the father he thought he had killed was, in fact, murdered; the bitter self-reproach for being a mere pawn in someone else's scheme; and a profound guilt toward Esmeralda, who had fought a lonely battle to uncover the truth for her devastated nephew.
On other nights, staying awake until dawn just to watch Blair sleep had never felt like a burden. But today, an overwhelming exhaustion suddenly pulled at him.
“……”
Leaning back in his chair, Herdin let out a low, heavy sigh. He ran a hand through his hair and habitually reached into his drawer for a cigar.
Just as he was about to strike a match, Blair's face flashed before his eyes, along with the promise they had made.
He needed to return to the bedroom. Today was the day they were supposed to go out together.
Feeling the weight on his chest lift slightly, Herdin set the cigar aside, left his office, and made his way to Blair's chambers.
But the moment he stepped inside, an unnatural chill in the air stirred a sudden, inexplicable dread.
Spurred by the growing unease, he hurried into the bedroom, only to freeze at the sight before him.
"...Blair."
In the room bathed in the pale light of dawn, the bed where Blair should have been sleeping was completely empty.