Chapter 80
Chapter 80
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Dryad
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ian paced the room with his arms crossed. He couldn't fathom how the situation was unfolding.
Berik lay sprawled in a semi-comatose state, while the agitated Lady Merelrof sat bound on the sofa. Her back was ramrod straight, her resolute expression unchanged.
“What the hell is this...?”
Romandro squatted down, examining the glass-lidded powder dish and the fine grains inside. Since Berik had passed out the moment he smelled it, Hanna had rushed to fetch a lid from the kitchen.
“Madam. It seems we have a lot to talk about.”
“......”
“You'll need to explain everything from start to finish in a way that makes sense. Otherwise, things will get difficult for both of us.”
“It's just an aphrodisiac. Nothing major—why make such a fuss?”
Lady Merelrof raised her bound wrists as she spoke. It was indeed Hanna's handiwork, the ribbon tied neatly and securely.
In truth, if it really were just an aphrodisiac as she claimed, it wouldn't be a big issue. For debauched noble youths who loved revelry, such things were staples at every party—and in a remote borderland like this, they were even easier to obtain.
“This isn't an aphrodisiac.”
But Hanna, squatting beside Romandro, refuted it immediately.
“There are various kinds, but most aphrodisiacs have a yellowish tint or thicker granules. This one's so white and fine it could be mistaken for face powder at a glance. And passing out from just the smell? I've never heard of such a thing.”
So she said. Ian turned to Lady Merelrof, gesturing for her to explain. She glared at Hanna with an incredulous look.
“Who's that kid?”
“...As you can see, she's family who knows a bit about everything.”
Hanna beamed proudly at being called family.
Lady Merelrof promptly shut her mouth again. Ian signaled to Romandro and Hanna to step out for a moment. With so many people around, she probably wouldn't open up.
“Then I'll go fetch a damp cloth for Sir Berik.”
“Huh? Oh, right. Then I'll step out too for a bit...”
The quick-witted pair hurried out of Mary's room. As the door closed, only Berik's ragged breathing filled the air. Ian dragged a chair over and sat down in front of her.
“Lady Merelrof. No matter how I think about it, there are too many odd things here.”
“So, that was...”
“Let's speak frankly. I'll go through them one by one as they come to mind. You seem to know about Dripper. Correct?”
“......”
“More precisely, you know its value.”
Lady Merelrof bit her lip hard and swallowed a sigh. She was clearly hiding something. Ian studied her face carefully, then tossed out a hunch.
“Are you from Raza Mountain by any chance?”
“...What?”
Raza Mountain. The place believed to be the origin of Dripper. She glared at him with utter disbelief. And understandably so, because being from Raza Mountain meant...
“I'm asking if you're from the Dera Tribe.”
“You must be mad. Do I look like a mole?”
“The fact that you know what Dera tribesfolk look like suggests you are from there.”
Raza Mountain lay in the opposite direction from Bratz, with the capital at its center. Before inventions like Dripper drew attention, even the locals barely knew it existed. Anyone who never left the area would have no way of knowing about it.
“I, I'm...”
The lady stammered, glaring steadily.
“I'm friends with them.”
“With who? The Dera Tribe? No way.”
The Dera Tribe was insular, with no contact with the outside world. They spent their lives holed up in tunnels, endlessly assembling, breaking, and creating inventions.
A race that lived the same day over and over yet ultimately forged a different future. That was how later generations defined them.
“...It's true. I was born nearby and grew up there. My mother was a Dryad.”
Ian's mouth fell slightly open at the unexpected confession.
“A Dryad? You mean the Dryad I know?”
“Yes. The one bound to a tree by fate.”
Lady Merelrof calmly stated that she carried the blood of a tree spirit. She didn't so much as blink, so it didn't seem like a joke.
“But I didn't inherit my mother's fate. Thank goodness. How horrific it is to devour the body of the one you love and spend your life rooted in one spot.”
Dryads were known as dangerous among the spirits. Whether to protect the tree they shared life with or not, they were infamous for their capricious and cruel nature. Absorbing a loved human while alive to be together forever was proof enough.
“I could never understand my mother. So I chopped down her tree myself and ran away. I didn't even have time to retrieve my father's hardened corpse.”
The lady gazed out the window, recalling that day. Thud, thud—the forest echoed with each ax swing, the ground trembling. Birds flew up screaming, beasts howling in chorus. Perhaps her mother's screams.
“And that's how you ended up here?”
“Mm. It's a long story. To be precise, I was captured by a merchant caravan and sold. Unlucky me—I came down from the forest and the first people I met were slavers. I didn't realize it then, but now I think it was my mother's final curse. Mind if I have a mana cigarette?”
She wiggled her fingers, raising her arm. Ian didn't smoke, so he opened the door to call for Romandro. The man, who hadn't gone far, came scurrying back in surprise.
“Lord Romandro. One mana cigarette, please.”
“Huh? Oh, sure. Hold on, here it is.”
“Thank you.”
Slam!
The door shut firmly again. Romandro scratched his head, looking sheepish. Of course, Ian had no way of knowing.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you, Lord Ian.”
Lady Merelrof exhaled a plume of hazy smoke with a sigh.
“So, to answer your earlier question: yes. I knew Dripper's value. I don't know what it's for, but the Dera Tribe never makes anything useless. But how did you know?”
“I picked it up here and there.”
“You know too much for that.”
His decision to gift Dripper had been half impulsive, half deliberate. The moment he saw it in the warehouse, his hand reached for it, figuring anything made by the Dera Tribe had to be useful.
“Madam, were you the one who leaked the merchant caravan's arrival schedule across the territory?”
“Why? Is that important?”
“I can't help but suspect you're helping me, Madam.”
“You're a funny one, Lord Ian. That's not something to suspect—it's something to be grateful for.”
“That depends on your intentions.”
At Ian's words, the lady slightly hiked up her skirt hem. From her red-and-purple bruised ankle, to her chafed calf, to her knee crusted with scabs.
Ian grimaced and turned his head away.
“Want to see higher up?”
“I'll pass.”
“Count Merelrof—my husband—is out of his mind. Buying a woman from slavers and making her countess says it all.”
That's why there was no wedding, and she was taken as a secret wife. Mary's subtle disdain toward her suddenly made sense, pieces falling into place.
“Does the Count know you carry Dryad blood?”
“No. I take after my father more than my mother.”
Even so, blood couldn't lie. Her beauty, her slow biological clock, her slightly longer lifespan and superior physical abilities—all proved she was a Dryad's child.
“A bottom-feeder like me could never divorce my husband, and I don't want to rot in a place like this for decades. To think chopping down my mother's tree and fleeing the forest only got me here.”
“So?”
Lady Merelrof glanced at the sprawled Berik instead of answering. That's why she needed that. Ian's expression hardened instantly as he seized her wrist.
Snap!
“...Poison?”
“No. It's a new sleep-inducing hallucinogen circulating from Hwan Kingdom. They say consistent use for a month causes sleep apnea. Though I never heard of it knocking you out from the smell.”
“Reliable information, I'm sure.”
“Both I and Lady Mary handled the powder without issue. She's probably having sweet dreams right now.”
A novel narcotic that induced hallucinations while eating away from the inside. The reason for sourcing it externally was obvious: to avoid detection by autopsy potions if the Count's death raised suspicions.
“Unbelievable. Lady Mary was doing this too?”
“Who knows if she used it. It was originally meant for Derga, I think. But she soon realized it was better to handle it herself than let him do it.”
“Why?”
“Why, indeed. You, Lord Ian, are the reason.”
The illegitimate son brought from outside, Ian. Wasn't he the result of Derga's countless misdeeds? Ian suddenly recalled Mary's haggard appearance in the underground secret room. Withdrawal symptoms from the drug, no doubt.
“Lord Ian, I despise the name Merelrof. How am I any different from my mother, bound to one spot?”
Even her attempt to kill her husband mirrored her mother. Was this the fate she couldn't ignore, no matter how she tried?
“I just want freedom of choice over my own fate.”
“I hear the Count has a younger brother.”
Even if Count Merelrof died, the territory's next lord would be the brother, not her.
“Doesn't matter. As long as I can choose where I go.”
Besides, at this rate, she'd die before the Count did.
Ian stared at her silently, deep in thought. Neighboring territories, yet they eyed each other's throats to expand influence.
“Let me make a proposal.”
Lady Merelrof struck first. She extended her wrists, as if asking to be untied.
“The enemy of my enemy is my ally—there's no reason Lord Ian and I shouldn't join hands. Help me—or rather, look the other way—and I'll offer as much tribute gold as possible.”
“As much as possible. How much?”
“...Hard to say exactly.”
The sun had already set outside. It was past time for Lady Merelrof to return home, leaving only the question of whether sending her back now truly benefited him.
Bang! Boom!
It was then. Commotion erupted outside.
Ian slowly opened the door to check. An unfamiliar man was clashing with the servants.
“Are you joking? Why can't I see the Madam?”
“We told you, she's in an important meeting with Lord Ian right now...”
“I said I have a message to deliver. Not even passing it on is suspicious—step aside.”
“I said no!”
“Step aside! What have you done to the Madam?!”
“As if that's something to say right now! Ugh, frustrating! If anyone's done anything, it's your lady to us!”
It was Lady Merelrof's attendant causing the ruckus. Past return time with no word, and denied entry at the mansion, he'd barged right in.
“Hey.”
Ian called to him softly.
“The Madam is busy right now. Wait a little longer.”
But the attendant charged toward Ian without regard, then spotted Lady Merelrof's bound wrists and lost it.
“What the—!”
“Clark! Wait!”
Clark lunged at Ian. The servants tried to stop him in alarm, but were a step too late. Ian grabbed Clark's outstretched wrist and unleashed mana.
Zing!
Boom!
“...Gasp!”
“Clark!”
Lady Merelrof rushed to the toppled Clark, shrieking. She embraced the trembling man from the shock, fretting over him.
Everyone stared down at her in disbelief, until Berik mumbled in his sleep.
“Bullshit... he fell flat...”