Chapter 21
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Marriage Alliance (3)
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It wasn't a metaphor. Ciela Neuendorf was truly a cursed woman.
However, the curse only activated under very secretive and intimate conditions, so even Berger, the head of the alchemy school, had only discovered it after a long time.
The condition for the curse was intercourse between man and woman, so even someone as brilliant as Berger Neuendorf wouldn't have found it easily.
In his previous life, Blanc had learned of it because her eighth husband was a mage. If they had been ordinary noblemen or knights, she probably would have gone to her grave as the woman fated to devour her husbands.
In his previous life, Blanc had heard the rumors and thought, 'How fascinating. The world has all sorts of stories.' and dismissed it lightly.
'What do I do? I have no way to handle this.'
In this life, he was on the verge of inheriting that curse himself.
If Blanc had the ability to break the curse on Ciela or knew how, it wouldn't be a problem—but he didn't, so it was.
"Besides the Neuendorf family... were there no other houses?"
Blanc forced the words out, meeting Weard Tolome's surprised gaze and managing only an awkward smile.
"I... I'm just curious. About which women are being considered."
Weard was startled by Blanc boldly asking if there were no other women besides the count's daughter, but he nodded in understanding at the follow-up.
'If he can't handle it, he'll want to avoid it. Even the count's family of Neuendorf—this is a poisoned chalice.'
No matter how prestigious the count's family was, what good was it if his life hung in the balance?
So, he had no choice but to play the part.
"Of course. At your age, it's natural to start taking an interest in women."
Blanc deliberately acted like a puberty-stricken boy suddenly fascinated by girls.
He wanted to know if there were other candidates besides Ciela Neuendorf.
"Surprisingly, many houses seem eager to ally with you. But Father doesn't seem too pleased with any of them."
With his barony in the Felix Kingdom and succession rights to Norinton, plenty of families coveted Blanc. Securing him meant naturally gaining those two assets.
They were largely nominal rights, but worth investing a daughter for.
"...I see."
But no matter how many bride candidates there were, if Bartolomeo Tolome—the one arranging Blanc's marriage—didn't approve, it was pointless.
From Weard's words, it seemed none could even compare to the Neuendorfs.
'Then marrying Ciela Neuendorf is basically set in stone.'
Weard watched Blanc feign disappointment, a meaningful smile playing inwardly on his lips.
"Yes. Even for the Neuendorf family, taking in a woman who's already lost two husbands feels off-putting."
"No, that's not it, Lord Weard. It's not..."
How could Blanc, with only a hollow barony title, presume to find a ducal house off-putting?
Blanc waved his hands denying Weard's remark, but Weard continued undeterred.
"And at twenty-one, she's seven years older than you. It can't help but feel burdensome."
Blanc was sweating profusely beside him, insisting it wasn't true, but Weard nodded as if the decision was already made.
"I understand how you feel. Then how about this?"
Blanc noticed Weard's eyes gleaming oddly, but conversations had a flow.
He was already caught in the rhythm set by Weard, the shrewd and seasoned merchant.
"What about Izrelin instead? She's only ten, just four years younger than you—so far more suitable than the twenty-one-year-old Ciela. And above all, Izrelin seems quite fond of you. As her father, I'd be happy if she married a man she likes..."
Cousin marriages weren't unheard of. They often strengthened family bonds.
Moreover, after nearly losing Izrelin, Weard wanted his only daughter always by his side.
In that sense, Blanc was the ideal son-in-law: meeting the minimum requirements, brimming with future potential, and firmly within Weard's influence—so he'd never mistreat her.
And most importantly, Izrelin seemed to like Blanc.
Weard gazed at him with a satisfied smile.
'...This can't be happening, right?'
A red widow spider ahead, a damn kid blocking the rear.
Blanc was truly caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Damn it... damn it!"
Yonas sat clutching his head at his desk, skipping his daily training as usual these days.
"What am I supposed to do... how do I handle this...?"
It had been a week since his valet was summoned by Viteli Tolome and hadn't returned. He was probably locked in the Tolome mansion's underground dungeon—or already dead.
"That fool must've spilled everything by now... Uncle Viteli's not the type to let that slide..."
Yonas knew well that beneath Viteli's affable smile lurked a cold heart.
His valet had surely confessed that Yonas ordered him to poison Blanc.
"But why?!"
So why hadn't anyone said anything to him yet?
Izrelin being poisoned instead of Blanc was unexpected for Yonas too. He just wanted to make Blanc suffer and give him a stern warning.
To tell him to stay quiet and cower in the Tolome family.
But thanks to that stupid whore, the poison went to Izrelin, blowing up into a family-shaking scandal.
"Blanc, you little worm..."
The poisoning of the Tolome family's young granddaughter in the capital, Baltimer, was big news—but Blanc was even bigger.
The story of fourteen-year-old Blanc risking danger to fetch Moonlight Grass and save his sister had spread beyond Baltimer across the entire Felix Kingdom.
Already famous from the Cardmus tragedy, Blanc finding the legendary Moonlight Grass made him a sensation.
Especially among young girls.
He'd perfectly realized a fairy-tale prince's story in reality.
Though he hadn't yet received a knighthood, some were already calling him the Knight of the Moonlight Grass, praising his feat.
"Arrrghhh!"
His attempt to trap Blanc had ultimately elevated his rival's honor.
Yonas clutched his head, tormented by anxiety over his impending punishment and inferiority toward Blanc.
"Lord Yonas! Lord Yonas!"
"What am I going to do... if Father finds out..."
"Lord Yonas! Pull yourself together! Lord Schmaier is..."
"Schmaier? Father?"
At the news of his father coming, Yonas jolted up from his desk in a panic.
But before he could compose himself, his door burst open roughly.
Bang!
The door flew open noisily, revealing Schmaier Tolome glaring at him with cold eyes.
"F-Father..."
Yonas tried to muster a greeting, but...
"I just spoke to your mother."
The response was icy and curt.
"W-What did you say...?"
Unable to even lift his head, Yonas stood like a condemned man awaiting the blade.
Schmaier showed no flicker of emotion at his son's wretched state.
"Your mother will leave for the Saint Solay Monastery today. She'll pray there for your safety and success."
"Father!"
"Until I summon her, she'll devote herself to prayer there."
"Father, please! I was wrong. Spare at least Mother...!"
Patriarch Bartolomeo Tolome had left Yonas's punishment to Schmaier.
Bartolomeo, eldest son Schmaier, Viteli who knew everything, and Weard—father of the incident's biggest victim, Izrelin—had all agreed to bury it quietly.
Publicly revealing that the family's heir had done something so outrageous would tarnish the Tolome name irreparably.
Weard had swallowed his rage only after Bartolomeo's persuasion and Schmaier's apology.
They'd announced Izrelin's poisoning by an unidentified assassin group and executed the culprits. Now it was time to handle Yonas internally and discreetly.
"I admit my wrong! Punish me, not Mother!"
Yonas clung to Schmaier's ankle, wailing like a child.
His son groveled at his feet sobbing, but Schmaier continued unmoved.
"If the world learns of a harsh punishment for you now, what will they think? Especially with all the rumors swirling about Izrelin's incident."
"Father!"
Witnesses had seen Yonas's valet buying Yellow-Striped Mushroom poison from the alchemist guild.
Those rumors were floating alongside others about Izrelin. Publicly punishing Yonas harshly now would indirectly confirm them.
Yonas looked up at his father pleadingly, but Schmaier's eyes held no emotion.
"And your mother is at fault too. She acknowledged her mistake and accepted going to Solay Monastery without protest."
"What fault could Mother possibly have?"
Yonas couldn't help but wonder. His mother had always quietly supported Schmaier and him—nothing she'd done should have incurred his wrath.
"Of course she did. A grave one."
Schmaier stared at Yonas with his gray, emotionless eyes.
Yonas sensed they held nothing—no love for his son, no disappointment or anger over the incident. Not even a shred.
"Bearing the lion's bloodline yet failing to produce an heir to carry it on. That's a grave sin."
Schmaier's words pierced deep into Yonas's chest.
He doesn't recognize me as a Tolome lion.
He doesn't see me as his son.
"F-Father..."
"This is the last time. Don't forget—it's the final chance your mother sacrificed herself for."
With that, Schmaier turned abruptly and left the room.
Yonas could only stare blankly, unable to even grab him.
Shortly after Schmaier departed, beastly wails echoed from Yonas's room.