Chapter 169
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 169
Duke Hosaquin was harboring the wicked Evangeline Rohanson. Because of this, the number of nobles willing to associate with him had dwindled to almost none, as they feared misfortune would befall them by association. Jeremia, disguised as the knight Azazel, met the servant’s suspicious gaze with a brazen confidence.
“Yes. I heard the Duchess’s health is failing. I wish to convey Her Highness’s sympathies out of concern.”
The servant recalled the rumors that had been circulating recently. They said the Duchess was on her deathbed.
It was true that Princess Jeremia’s behavior had grown somewhat vicious ever since losing her father and twin sister, no doubt due to the shock. Before that, however, she had possessed a generous nature, often sending such letters whenever unfortunate news reached her about the nobility. Guessing the situation, the servant bowed to the knight.
“Of course. I will have the letter sent immediately.”
“No. You will do it.”
The knight stopped him.
“Pardon?” the servant asked instinctively, certain he had misheard.
“You know how to ride a horse. You must go yourself.”
“Me?”
When the servant questioned the order again, the expression of Jeremia—posing as Azazel—instantly turned fierce. Realizing he had given offense, the servant bowed low. One should never argue with a superior’s command.
Strictly speaking, however, the servant’s master was the Princess, not this knight. Loath to do extra work in the middle of the night, he decided to push his luck one more time.
“Um… Unless Her Highness herself ordered it, it would be difficult for me to leave my post.”
The servant broke into a cold sweat, nervous that his bravado had been a mistake. Surprisingly, the knight showed no sign of offense and spoke calmly.
“What if this letter arrives too late, and the Duchess passes away before it reaches her? Wouldn’t that make Her Highness seem utterly heartless, sending condolences to someone who is already dead?”
“The letter wouldn’t take that long to arrive…”
This was no ordinary message; it was a missive from the Princess herself. Even if its destination were the very edge of the empire, dozens of riders would gallop day and night to deliver it. The servant offered this explanation to the knight, who seemed ignorant of imperial matters, but the knight’s expression only grew more menacing.
“How can you guarantee that? What if the Duchess passes away this very night? On what grounds can you be so certain of the day she will die? Are you planning to assassinate her?”
“No, no! Of course not!”
As the servant turned pale and waved his hands in denial, Jeremia’s stiff expression softened.
“Right? You are neither an assassin out to kill the Duchess, nor an incompetent fool who would tarnish your master’s reputation. Therefore, you will deliver this letter yourself.”
“Pardon…? Yes…”
“Then leave immediately. Ah, and since Duke Hosaquin’s reputation is poor, Her Highness said there is no need to inform the other servants of your movements.”
At Jeremia’s urging, the flustered servant tucked the letter into his breast pocket and headed for the stables. When he showed the imperial seal, the stable keeper handed over a horse without even asking his destination.
All the way to Duke Hosaquin’s estate, questions bubbled in his mind. Why did a mere servant like him have to deliver a letter more precious than life itself? And how did a knight whose name he barely knew even know that he could ride?
But if he refused, he would be branded an ignorant fool who cared nothing for his master’s reputation. Besides, if he resisted, the stubborn knight might try to frame him as the Duchess’s assassin. Superiors, by nature, were creatures who always got their way. Deciding not to overthink it, the servant resolved to just get it over with.
He delivered the letter to one of the Duke’s servants. After riding through the night, he returned to the palace, where he was thanked for his efforts—not by the Princess, but by the knight.
“Wait, wasn’t that Lady Jeremia’s letter?”
“Hmm? What are you talking about? That was a letter I wrote.”
The knight patted the servant’s shoulder as he answered. While it was literally a letter written by Jeremia, the servant naturally understood it differently. Racking his brain, he realized the knight had never explicitly stated that the letter was from the Princess. He had simply jumped to his own conclusions.
“But it had the imperial seal on it…”
“I borrowed it from Lady Jeremia.”
“Ah… I see.”
Utterly bewildered and looking suddenly haggard, the servant bowed to Jeremia and quickly excused himself.
Despite feeling wronged, the servant would never report the incident to Tenebrae. Jeremia knew he was the type to avoid troublesome matters at all costs. In fact, back when she was still a princess, she had benefited from his lazy nature a few times.
Having deliberately chosen a messenger who wouldn't fall for Bishop Marik’s schemes or be tempted to open the letter, Jeremia offered a silent thanks to the departing servant.
* * *
“Um… My Lady?”
Someone was calling me.
“My Lady… Lady Evangeline!”
A cautious hand touched my shoulder. For a split second, I almost shook it off, but I quickly snapped back to my senses. Canna was looking at me, her face etched with worry. Wait, did I just try to swat Canna’s hand away? I wanted to apologize, but my throat felt tight, my lips glued shut.
We had caught the Rat using Agera as bait. Afterward, I had stopped by the Duke’s office to discuss Rico’s fate. The Duke had just handed me a letter from Gabriel, saying it would be helpful in deciding what to do.
Canna took the letter from the Duke and gave it to me. It was already open; the Duke explained that he had opened it himself, thinking it was addressed to him. I nodded in understanding and began to read. By the time I finished, I was so furious I could barely think straight. Canna, who had remained by my side the entire time, asked cautiously, “My Lady, what on earth did Sir Gabriel write to make you look like that?”
My mood, which had been perfectly fine moments before, had plummeted as if digging a tunnel straight into the earth. She sounded curious about what could possibly have been written to sour my mood so instantly. But it wasn’t as if I could smile while reading something like this.
Instead of explaining, I handed the letter to Canna. The handwriting looked rushed, as if written in a race against time. Canna began to read it aloud, stammering slightly.
“To… the dear Lady Rohanson. Gabri… el is…”
To the dear Lady Rohanson. Sir Gabriel is in the Imperial Castle.
The letter began like this. It seemed that as soon as the Duke saw my name and Gabriel’s, he realized it wasn’t for him, closed it, and brought it straight to me. That was why he’d said it was from someone who couldn’t possibly have written to me. The true author was revealed in the very next line.
“…Oh? It wasn’t sent by Sir Gabriel, but by Sir Astaroth?”
Perhaps conscious of the Duke’s presence, Canna referred to Jeremia by a more distant title. As she continued reading, her initial excitement at the proof that Jeremia hadn’t betrayed me gradually faded, and her expression grew grave.
Soon, she could no longer bring herself to read the words aloud, her lips moving in silence. By the end, her face was just as grim as mine.
The letter began with Jeremia’s apology for being deceived by Hena. It was followed by a dense list of all the information she had gathered while acting as a spy at Bishop Marik’s side.
It detailed how Jelly and Hena had gone to the Temple together and that, despite her efforts, she had not yet found them. It revealed that Bishop Marik was posing as a maid named ‘Saraka,’ a woman Jeremia had encountered long ago when she was still a princess, noting that she had a burn scar on her lower face. It mentioned a suspicious patient in Bishop Marik’s room and, most damningly, that she had found Gabriel locked in the dungeon of the Imperial Castle while serving as Tenebrae’s guard.
Gabriel, whom everyone thought had returned with the Order of Pararos Knights… Gabriel was bound and gagged, having received no medical treatment for his wounds…
“My Lady… are you alright?”
Canna looked at me with trembling eyes. She seemed far more worried about me than about Gabriel’s condition.
I wanted to tell her I was fine, but in truth, I was not fine at all. Rage boiled deep inside me. I was furious at Bishop Marik, who had not only taken Jelly and the people of the Rohanson Mansion but had now taken Gabriel captive as well.
Gabriel wasn’t like Jelly, who recovered quickly from any wound. He was an ordinary human. A heavy sense of guilt washed over me, as if Gabriel had been sacrificed just to prolong my own life.
“Your Grace, who brought this letter?”
“Princess Jeremia’s servant delivered it himself. He said it was a letter of condolence for Agera and that the knight serving the Princess asked him to deliver it personally.”
“I see.”
So that was why the Duke had opened it.
Fortunately, if it had been delivered directly by Jeremia’s man, Bishop Marik couldn’t have intercepted it. There was no risk of Gabriel being moved before we could rescue him.
I was grateful to Jeremia, who was risking her life to stay by the Bishop’s side. Every single piece of information was priceless—more than enough to atone for her mistake of being tricked while the mansion burned.
“Thank you, Grandfather.”
First, I expressed my gratitude to the Duke.
“Just as you said, this helps in deciding what to do with Rico.”
I turned my gaze to Rico.
“Rico.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
“You said you could use the Rat’s ability, correct?”
“…Yes.”
Rico, who had already prepared herself for death, nodded with a resolute expression.
“Then, can you mimic Sir Gabriel’s appearance?”
“Sir Gabriel…?”
If Rico could copy Gabriel’s appearance, I planned to rescue him and leave her in his place. Flustered by the sudden demand, Rico fell into deep thought.
“First, try mimicking Canna. Let’s see if you can do it.”
“Yes. I’ll give it a try.”
Rico nodded meekly. Almost immediately, her outer form began to melt and reshape itself. Flesh and bone churned, reconstructing from the inside out. Her form settled into place as if each part possessed its own life. Blood vessels spun out like fibers, and cracked skin fused seamlessly to fill the crimson gaps. What finally emerged was Canna.
From the red hair to the bright face, it was a perfect replica.
However, staring intently, I realized it didn’t feel like a single person. It was like a swarm of dozens, hundreds of living things gathered together. Rico was like a pointillist painting; up close, she was a collection of distinct entities, but from a distance, she was a perfect image of Canna.
“…Oh my goodness.”
Canna covered her mouth, seeing an exact double of herself without a mirror. Rico clumsily mimicked the gesture, covering her own mouth. When Canna took a slight step back, clearly creeped out, Rico sensed her fear and immediately dropped the disguise.
“Lady Rohanson. If it’s only to this extent, I can easily copy Sir Gabriel as well.”
As if to prove her words, Rico transformed her appearance once more. The melted mass slowly began to take shape again, like an adult insect emerging from its cocoon. What finally revealed itself was a face I knew all too well.
Pitch-black hair that would remain dark even under direct sunlight framed long eyelashes. Beneath them gleamed somber blue eyes. When those cold, lifeless eyes turned toward me, a shiver ran down my spine. The entity before me was entirely different from the Gabriel I knew.
“Do you like it?” Rico asked, a bizarre, eerie smile on her face that the real Gabriel would never make.