Edel's Soap Opera (6)
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‘The dark elves might not realize it, but the curse is about due to lift anyway...’
The curse of contract magic was powerful, but it came with a time limit.
The queen could return at any moment without it being strange.
‘She’s the type to shake it off and rise regardless. I need to make use of this curse business before then.’
Brasiana, of course, had no idea about any of this and was captivated by the promise that he could lift the curse.
“Come on! Tell me quick!”
But Owen didn’t open up easily.
In truth, he was wrestling with heavy doubts himself.
This curse matter carried massive risks.
On top of that, facing the queen again—tied to him by all sorts of emotions in his past life—was a burden.
Still, Owen soon steeled his resolve.
‘A human life is short...’
At this rate, he’d never get revenge on his many enemies before they killed him.
Even the vast Empire had clashed with foes on all sides for centuries without crushing a single one.
For a mere knight like Owen to wipe out demons, undead, orcs, and dark elves? There was no end in sight at this pace.
‘Right. To destroy humanity’s enemies, I can’t just chip away sensibly step by step.’
Owen hardened his inner determination.
He needed something radical.
‘The orcs in the Eastern Plains are on the move, perfect timing. In exchange for lifting the curse, I can get the queen to help against them.’
Getting her to send troops aggressively might be a stretch, but sowing discord between orcs and dark elves would be enough.
The two races had bad blood to begin with.
No major clashes lately, but poke them a little and they’d be at each other’s throats.
Even if not, the aid from the dark elf queen would be immense.
‘Let’s do it.’
Owen resolved to step into danger.
“To be direct: I can lift that curse.”
Brasiana’s eyes widened.
Yet now that the words she’d hoped for were out, she didn’t know how to react.
It was hard to believe, above all.
Famous dark elf sorcerers had failed—even the queen herself.
How could this dragon knight pull it off?
“...You’re lying.”
“Believe me or not, your choice.”
“Do you grasp the danger of those words? If true, every dark elf will take notice. Those who want the queen’s curse lifted... and those who don’t.”
“That’s on you to handle. Throw away the chance to claim sole credit and spread rumors if you like.”
“What if I’m with the anti-queen faction? You’d be done for.”
“I know a bit about your tattoo. The queen doesn’t give those to just anyone. I trust her judgment, at least.”
It rang true.
Brasiana wondered just what this Owen was.
“...What do you want?”
“Cancel today’s announcement first. We can’t keep talking like this standing around.”
“No cancellation until I’m convinced.”
Brasiana suggested postponement instead.
“Fine.”
Owen was satisfied for now.
Demanding immediate cancellation was unreasonable anyway.
“Even postponing is a huge hit for me. If you spout nonsense, you’ll pay dearly.”
Lifting the queen’s curse was that monumental.
No solid proof Owen could do it yet, but Brasiana couldn’t pass up the chance.
‘A human who knows the queen’s condition... What’s his deal? Worth talking more.’
Postponing the announcement was a big loss.
But conversing with this human held huge potential.
It looked foolish on the surface, but she knew gains and losses weren’t that simple.
With her resolve set, she lowered her fan, turned, and announced to all.
“My deepest apologies to our honored guests. Today’s announcement is postponed. Please enjoy the banquet and depart.”
The sudden declaration rippled through the crowd.
The gathered nobles’ eyes bulged, naturally.
“What the hell’s going on?”
“Wasn’t it a major announcement?”
“Won’t this piss off His Imperial Majesty?”
Sure enough, the emperor’s envoy scowled openly.
He hadn’t revealed his status, but his expression screamed capital envoy.
“And does that woman even have the authority to postpone?”
“We knew she was the real power, but this much...?”
The crowd buzzed with intrigue over the unfolding drama.
Soon, Barom Albert, the family head’s uncle, stormed forward in fury.
“Hanna! What is the meaning of this? Today’s announcement can’t be postponed. What nonsense!”
Barom’s face flushed red like a drunkard’s, his excitement boiling over.
Power-sensitive as he was, Brasiana had decided unilaterally without a word.
He boiled like a kettle, inevitably.
Even lost in lust for the widow Hanna’s skin lately, he spat in rage.
“That’s not for you to decide alone! Hanna!”
“Alone? You’re mistaken, Lord Barom.”
“What!”
“The postponement is the family head Garen’s will. Isn’t it, Lord Garen?”
Brasiana cast a sultry glance at the dazed Garen Albert.
Already utterly enchanted by her, he nodded frantically.
“Yes! That’s right!”
He saw it as a chance to impress the widow Hanna.
Naive as he was, he’d noticed Barom’s affair with her.
Hiding his jealousy, but burning with it.
Now, a shot to undermine his rival and shine for his beloved—he chose clearly.
Despite no prior discussion, Garen backed the widow Hanna fully.
“I demanded the postponement, Uncle.”
“What!”
Barom fumed, but realized one crucial thing.
With the official family head Garen deciding, he was powerless.
His power stemmed from manipulating Garen.
Losing that control left him a sidelined old man.
Garen followed only the widow Hanna.
She’d been Barom’s lover, maintaining the power flow.
But now she’d cut him off, monopolizing Garen—the game changed completely.
Murmurs rose.
The sharp-eyed Albert retainers caught on quick.
A few stepped up to defend Garen instantly.
“In the Albert family, the head’s word is law, elder or not.”
“I agree.”
They were the ones Barom usually snubbed.
“You bastards!”
Barom nearly cursed but held back.
With outsiders present, rashness was unwise.
The tide had turned.
His beard quivered in humiliation, but he was helpless.
“Damn it all!”
Barom stormed out.
Of course, he wouldn’t accept defeat quietly—more strife loomed.
But Brasiana didn’t care.
If Owen was telling the truth, who ran Edel meant nothing to her.
That evening, Owen and Brasiana sat face-to-face in a private chamber.
With their talk turning to the dark elf queen, even Archmage Bellatel was excluded.
Yet despite time passing since they sat, they just stared.
Each had much to ponder.
‘Is this woman the one pulling strings in the east? How far does her reach extend?’
Owen eyed the alluring dark elf before him.
Brasiana wasn’t disguised as Hanna here—she showed her true form.
Her looks were stunning, as expected.
Pale brown skin, lime-green eyes, ivory-silver hair.
Her eyes were sharpish, but her impression was too kind to seem sinister.
If she wanted, melting a man’s heart would be child’s play.
Owen sought her true inner self, not the surface.
Curiosity burned.
Meanwhile, Brasiana struggled to suppress rising anger.
‘Don’t show emotion in these talks. Calm down...’
She told herself that, but fury was natural.
She’d suffered a massive failure in Bris because of Owen.
Especially her moneylender Arhana identity—now a fugitive.
Unlike Magnus, who fled to his lands to plot rebellion, she’d abandoned everything built in Bris.
How could she not rage?
But she regained composure soon.
The queen’s curse was priority.
“What do you know about the curse, Lord Leire?”
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“Almost everything. But what I can tell you now is limited.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s the queen’s secret. Think you can handle knowing?”
Brasiana furrowed her brow instead of answering.
Owen soothed her.
“Of course, I’ll share what’s needed. The queen’s curse triggered because she violated a powerful contract’s terms.”
“Terms?”
“Yes. She broke a promise and paid the price.”
“What promise? With whom?”
“I said you couldn’t handle it. Only the queen among dark elves knows—and you’re curious?”
“...Strange. But how do you know, Lord Leire?”
“The queen will judge that question.”
“Pardon?”
“Simple. I’ll write a letter. Deliver it to her.”
“...”
“I’ll put in something only she’d recognize. Others won’t understand.”
Owen said her reaction to the letter would confirm his truth.
“She’ll respond to my letter for sure. Give you new orders. Then we discuss details.”
“Hm... But until the reply, you stay under my protection? Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe—no need for weapons.”
Politely put: disarm and live as her prisoner till then.
If bluffing, she’d sever his head without hesitation.
But Owen refused flat-out.
“Treat me as a guest, and maybe. Don’t talk nonsense.”
Brasiana gnawed her lip at his take-it-or-leave-it attitude.
No choice.
“Fine. But you’ll stay in Edel till the reply, naturally?”
“Of course.”
The issue was time.
With eastern tensions urgent, he couldn’t wait forever.
“Any fast way to send word?”
He asked, assuming she had one.
She bore the queen’s magic defense tattoo.
Surely a direct channel.
“Yes. A few days. Simple messages only—no people.”
“Impressive. Round trip to the frozen north in days.”
“Now, write the letter. Lord Leire.”
Owen nodded and took up the pen.
What he penned was bizarre—nothing about the curse.
Just a trivial tale of a cocky human youth and a prideful dark elf woman bickering childishly.
It seemed utterly unlikely to sway the mighty dark elf queen, yet Owen finished and sealed it.
“There. Let’s see your queen’s reaction, Brasiana. If I’m right, you cooperate fully on Edel matters.”
“Deal. But if not, wash that neck while you wait.”
Thus, Owen’s fate hung on one letter speeding to the frozen north.
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