Chapter 117. Iseo's Struggle
Iseo's heart burned like blackened charcoal.
The excess mana suppressant she had created had backfired horrifically, causing the Count's body to remain in a state of constant, agonizing expansion for twenty-four hours.
I need to make an antidote. But... without knowing the cause, I can't even begin to formulate one.
She had secretly brewed herbs known for their calming effects and slipped them into the Count's drinking water, but the monstrous pillar of flesh showed no signs of subsiding. The other maids took turns draining his vital energy, but that was only a temporary measure—not a true solution.
In the end, there was only one conclusion.
I have to start over. From scratch. With completely fresh ingredients.
Accompanied by Ella (Victoria), who insisted on following her into town, Iseo returned to the magic ingredient shop within the territory—the Golden Owl.
Fortunately, this time, the shop had ample stock of everything she needed.
"Silver laurel leaves, evening primrose root, and blue blood herb. All top-grade."
After meticulously inspecting the herbs and paying, Iseo finally let out a sigh of relief.
"Phew... Got everything? Then let's grab a bite before heading back."
Ella clung to Iseo's arm, whining.
"Iseo, I'm starving from following you around all morning. You're treating me to something good, right?"
Iseo nodded absently, still relieved to have secured the ingredients. Nearby was the tavern-slash-inn where she had once shared skewers with Count Lucian during their date.
The lunchtime crowd was bustling with laborers and merchants.
The two settled into a corner table and ordered warm stew and beer. Just as Ella was about to take her first spoonful—
"My, my. Fancy seeing a Celestine here again."
A sharp, high-pitched voice.
Iseo's spine went cold. She turned to see a woman already seated across from them, having pulled up a chair without a sound.
The same woman who had seen right through her at the shop—the witch Morgana.
Dressed in a black mini-dress that left one shoulder bare, she exuded a sultry aura that clashed violently with the rustic tavern.
Pale skin, lips red as fresh blood. Her short gray hair was tipped with deep green dye, giving her an eerie, unforgettable presence.
"Iseo, who is this?"
Ella set down her spoon, her voice laced with suspicion. Though a fallen noble, she was still an aristocrat to the bone—and this brazen woman rubbed her the wrong way.
"Ah... Just someone I met at the shop before."
Iseo forced her expression to remain neutral.
"Meeting again at a tavern? The Eckhart maids must have plenty of free time."
Morgana propped her chin on her hand, studying them with a smirk.
"Both of you are quite the lookers. I bet you're the Count's personal night attendants, hm? Seeing your faces, I doubt the poor man gets any rest."
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
"Rumors say the Count hasn't been well lately. You girls aren't working him too hard at night, are you?"
Morgana's sharp eyes gleamed as she watched for Iseo's reaction.
Iseo replied flatly,
"I don't know what rumors you've heard, but His Excellency is in perfect health. He trains the knights every morning—hardly the behavior of an ailing man."
There was no way she would reveal the Count's suffering from perpetual priapism to this stranger.
Morgana's brow twitched slightly at Iseo's firm tone.
"I don't know who you are, but we're in the middle of something important. Would you mind leaving?"
Ella finally snapped, unable to hold back any longer. Her blue eyes flashed with hostility.
Morgana shrugged and stood.
"Tch, touchy. No need to be like that. I just wanted to say hello to a fellow Celestine."
As she turned to leave, she tossed one last remark over her shoulder like an afterthought.
"I hope that medicine works well for the Count. Well then, I'll be off."
With a sway of her hips, Morgana sauntered out of the tavern, her tight dress leaving little to the imagination.
"What was that about? Ugh, how vulgar. I can't stand women like her."
Ella slammed her beer mug down indignantly.
But Iseo didn't respond.
She stared blankly at the door where Morgana had disappeared, lost in thought.
Something's wrong.
A chill ran down her spine.
Last time, at the shop, they had merely exchanged herbs.
So why was this self-proclaimed archmage so fixated on the Count's condition?
And that final remark—
"I hope that medicine works well for the Count."
How did she know? That the herbs I bought were for a potion meant for His Excellency?
A horrifying realization struck her.
What if the silver laurel leaves Morgana had traded her weren't a coincidence?
What if the witch had deliberately approached her—to slip tainted ingredients into the Count's medicine?
Then the grotesque side effects weren't due to her own brewing mistake—but because of poisoned materials!
"Ah—!"
"Iseo?! Hey, where are you—?!"
Iseo threw down her spoon and bolted out of the tavern. Ella's startled call went ignored.
She scanned the streets frantically, searching for any trace of the vanished witch. But Morgana's heavy perfume had already dissipated into the crowd.
It was a trap. Those herbs were venom—delivered under Belial's orders!
Iseo clenched her fists. The cause of the Count's affliction was clear now.
This was bad. No matter how much vital energy the maids drained, if the root of the dark magic wasn't purified, the Count's heart might explode.
She had to hurry—brew a new suppressant with the fresh ingredients she'd just bought.
"Ella! We need to return to the estate—now!"
[Later]
Deep within the forest, hidden in a damp underground cavern—
Belial had taken refuge in the dense woods of Eckhart territory, proving the old adage: the darkest place is under the candlestick.
Morgana knelt, head bowed.
Before her, seated on a grotesque throne woven from bone and hide, was the dark mage Belial—breathing heavily.
Cough! Hack!
"So...?"
Belial wheezed between violent coughs. The wounds inflicted by Rimeyer, the Frozen Executioner, still hadn't fully healed. Black, necrotic blood oozed from his injuries.
"The Count seems fine. The maid didn't appear to be lying. It seems... our plan with the herbs failed."
Before Morgana could finish, a sphere of black mana shot from Belial's hand, obliterating the wall beside her.
BOOM—!
"KYAAH!"
"USELESS WHORE!"
Belial's roar shook the cavern.
His original plan had been flawless. Feed Lucian a suppressant laced with corrupted herbs to cripple his mana circuits, then have Morgana abduct him while he was bedridden. With his own injuries preventing him from acting directly, it had been a meticulous scheme.
"Do you know how much blood I spilled refining that poison?! And you couldn't even trick a maid into delivering it properly?!"
"I-I'm sorry! But his resistance to toxins is beyond—"
"Silence!"
Belial staggered to his feet, gripping Morgana's chin with a claw-like hand.
His prolonged recovery had left him volatile.
"Stop following orders like a mindless puppet and think! Find a way to capture Lucian yourself! I need that monster's mana to complete my plans!"
His sickly yellow eyes bore into her.
"If you can't... then you're worthless to me. Would you rather join those bags over there—drained of their yin energy until you're a husk?"
He jerked his chin toward the iron cages in the corner.
Inside, naked women lay like corpses, their vitality siphoned away over time.
Morgana's pupils trembled with fear.
"I... understand, Master. I will bring him to you."
She pressed her lips to Belial's filthy boots in submission.
But as she bowed, her teeth clenched hard enough to draw blood—humiliation burning in her chest.
She had always despised Belial. She had only endured his abuse to steal the ultimate secrets of dark magic for herself.
But being treated as a disposable tool—a mere meat shield—was the last straw.
You old bastard... Why should I suffer this indignity?
Rage and venom churned within her.
Just wait. Once I've drained every last drop of your knowledge... I'll sever your head first.
As she ground her teeth, the witch began devising a new trap—one far more cruel and depraved—to capture Lucian alive.