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4.25% Reborn As Papa Silva / Chapter 4: Negotiations

章節 4: Negotiations

Mereoleona Vermillion:

"Alright, what in the actual hell am I looking at?" I squinted, utterly bewildered, as I took in the scene unfolding before me. Acier, my mentor in everything but name, sat propped up against her bed's backboard. Her skin was even paler, her sickness clearly worsening since the last time I'd seen her. And yet... there was something different. Despite her frailness, a spark of life shone brighter in her now than ever before. When she smiled at me upon my entrance, it was so genuine, so full of warmth, that I nearly forgot about the dire circumstances.

But what really threw me for a loop was Sebastian Silva—that Sebastian—sitting right beside her. His hand gently held hers, glowing with an ocean-blue aura as he channeled what I assumed to be healing magic. I glanced over at Nozel, whose jaw was practically on the floor, with little Noelle clinging to him. Clearly, I wasn't the only one completely thrown off by this strange sight.

"Mother, did this creep do something to you?" Nozel's voice cut through the tension, his words so deadly serious that I couldn't stop a laugh from escaping me. Really? The look on his face was priceless. But my amusement didn't last long, and I quickly began circulating my mana, ready to spring into action the moment Sebastian so much as lifted a finger toward Nozel. I was more than prepared to put that bastard in his place. But nothing happened. To my surprise, Sebastian just twitched his brows slightly and continued his work, holding Acier's hand, sending rhythmic waves of mana into her. My senses honed in, and I could tell—there was no malice in what he was doing. His magic was gentle, restoring the flow of Acier's mana and keeping her alert.

Acier's smile softened, then turned into a frown of disapproval as she shot a glare at her son. "Nozel Silva, that is no way to speak about your father. Apologize."

I froze, stunned. The words had rolled off her tongue like they were the most natural thing in the world. She was actually scolding her most dutiful son to defend that no-show husband of hers. And to think, just last week, she could barely speak, her voice hoarse from illness choking her throat. Yet here she was, talking with the strength and grace of the Acier Silva I used to know. It was nothing short of miraculous.

Nozel was just as shocked as I was, stuttering in disbelief. I didn't blame him. If I were in his shoes, I'd be wondering if I'd wandered into some bizarre nightmare. His discomfort was almost comical as he turned to face his father, clearly choking on whatever apology he was about to force out.

"I-I'm... uh... uh... I'm—"

Poor kid couldn't even finish before Sebastian, of all people, cut him off. "If it's that difficult, just forget it. I don't care."

For the first time, Sebastian actually seemed annoyed. Not out of malice, though. He didn't care about the lack of an apology. What really seemed to bug him was how hard Nozel was struggling with it, as the kid would rather die than speak those words to his father. As Sebastian sighed, for the briefest moment, I swear I saw him pout. Who knew someone as cold as him could be so... sensitive? You'd think a man so cruel could handle being on the receiving end of a bit of disrespect.

Then I noticed something—Acier and Sebastian exchanged a silent, wordless look. A nod of understanding passed between them. That look sent a chill through me. They hadn't seen each other in months and barely spoke to one another. And yet here they were, perfectly in sync. It creeped me out how easily they fell into step like they were still connected in ways I couldn't begin to understand. For all their fights, and all their troubles, they were still husband and wife. Maybe, despite it all, some bonds run too deep to sever.

Nozel was shot a final frown by his mother before Acier turned her head back to face me. Acier, smiling warmly once more, turned her attention to me. "What brings you here today, Mereoleona?"

I furrowed my brow in confusion and approached her bedside. "What do you mean, 'what brings me here'? Didn't you call me? You sent a messenger to the Vermillion estate and everything. You're lucky I had just gotten back from my training in the Grand Magic Zones, or I wouldn't have heard a damn thing."

Her expression mirrored my confusion as she cocked her head slightly, bewilderment in her eyes, before shaking it off. "No, I didn't—" she started, only to be interrupted by a voice beside her.

"I did. On her behalf."

I turned, looking past Acier's bed to see Sebastian Silva calmly meeting my gaze, his hand still resting over hers as he continued whatever it was he was doing.

Great, I thought, now I have to deal with this piece of trash. I narrowed my eyes. "And why would you do that? What, too scared to face me yourself? Couldn't even use your own name to call me out?" I taunted, my voice dripping with contempt.

Acier frowned at my words, and I felt a small pang of guilt. I knew she had forgiven him—again—but that didn't mean I had to. I'd never forgive that pathetic excuse of a man, husband or not.

I expected him to react like any Silva—cold and prideful, maybe even indignant. But instead, to my surprise, he simply nodded, sizing me up with calm eyes. "I'm not ashamed to admit that, yes, you frighten me."

My jaw slackened, and I saw Nozel's do the same. Acier, for her part, only seemed slightly put off, before she chuckled softly. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard her laugh, let alone in Sebastian's presence. And I couldn't help but feel a surge of... gossip-worthy excitement. Was this how noble ladies felt when they stumbled upon juicy rumors? I wasn't usually one for idle chatter, but this was something else. A Silva—Sebastian Silva no less—had just confessed to being afraid of a Vermillion. And not just any Vermillion, but me. The most stuck-up, self-righteous, nitpicky bastard in all of royal society, admitting something so raw. This was the guy who was neck-and-neck with Augustus Kira Clover, the bloated waste of space that called himself King, in terms of being insufferable.

Despite my internal glee, Sebastian continued undeterred, indifferent to my thoughts. "As for your first question, Mereoleona—would you have come if I had asked you personally?"

I scowled but conceded with a grunt. "No." I could barely believe I was admitting it, but it was true. There was no way I'd have wasted my time if I'd known it was him calling me. But to my surprise, he didn't gloat or flash that smug look I expected. He just nodded a calm acknowledgment.

"You still haven't told me why I'm here," I snapped, crossing my arms, impatience clear in my voice.

His response was quick and silent—a flick of his grimoire, now floating in front of him. Oh? He wants to fight? I raised a feral brow, but paused. There was no hostility in his mana, no malice in his intent.

"Deep Blue Room," he called out, his voice calm, as the room around us transformed. An ocean-blue barrier of water enclosed us, the edges rippling with light. I couldn't help but grin, especially as Noelle squealed with delight, reaching out to touch the shimmering blue glow.

But this sudden secrecy made me raise a brow in confusion. What the hell was he up to?

"Do you want to grab a chair and sit? This is going to be a long meeting," Sebastian asked, sounding tired.

"Not my style," I shot back, staying on my feet. I wasn't about to settle down until I knew what was really going on.

He just nodded, sighing as if already exhausted by the situation, and then finally spoke. "Acier isn't simply sick—she's cursed. Nozel, too. Both of them have been marked by a host for a very powerful devil. They couldn't tell anyone because if word got out, the caster would know... and they could use that knowledge to curse the people they care about."

I blinked. Well, shit. That's not exactly a casual bomb to drop. A quick glance at the grim, frustrated looks on Acier's and Nozel's faces confirmed it—Sebastian wasn't messing with me.

An arm of flaming mana extended from my back, grabbing a chair and dragging it in front of me. I flipped it around, sat down with the chair back against my chest, and leaned forward, eyes locked on him. My hands rested on the top of the chair as I demanded, "Keep talking."

"Normal doctors are useless here," Sebastian continued. "They can't even identify the curse, let alone do anything about it. So we have to find alternative methods. You, being a member of the Vermillion house, should know that royals and nobles... we're not always as pure as we appear."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, nobles are shady—get to the point, old man."

He sighed, clearly irritated but pushing forward. "There are families in the Clover Kingdom who've dealt with curses or devils before. Some even research them. If anyone can undo what's been done to Acier and Nozel, it's them. So I summoned them."

"Okay, and…?" I asked, confused. Isn't that a good thing?

He gave me a look that screamed Are you an idiot? as he wagged a finger at me. I resisted the urge to incinerate him on the spot. "Do you really think people who study devils are going to be the most pleasant folks? There's a high chance things will get... complicated. They could resort to extreme measures, and we'll need someone strong enough to keep them in check. That's where you come in. I need your strength. Can you handle it?"

My annoyance melted into confidence as I grinned, poking my chest with my thumb. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to? Of course, I can. I'm the Uncrowned Undefeated Lioness, after all!"

But instead of the impressed reaction I expected, Sebastian just stared blankly at me, glancing between me and Acier. Even someone as bold as me felt a little flustered by his deadpan look. "Okay, undefeated except for Acier. But she doesn't count. She's my master. I'll beat her one day, though!"

Sebastian didn't mock me or sneer like I thought he would. Instead, he nodded approvingly. "If anyone can do it, it's you."

Acier gave me an encouraging smile, while Nozel just narrowed his eyes, clearly still unconvinced.

I brushed aside my unease and cut to the chase. "Even if they don't freak out, what makes you think they'll help?" I asked, genuinely curious. The worried looks Acier and Nozel shot Sebastian made it clear that they hadn't really thought about the possibility that someone in the Clover Kingdom might not be eager to cozy up to royalty by doing them a favor.

Luckily, Sebastian wasn't as naive as his wife and son. His lips curled upward into a smile, and if it weren't for his next words, I might have actually found it charming. "Then I'll just have you hold them hostage until they change their mind. And if they still refuse… well, what good are they then? Let's do society a favor and dispose of some heinous devil worshippers."

A thrill shot up my spine, my grin turning feral. "You know what? I think I'm starting to like you, you sick bastard!" There's nothing I respect more than someone unafraid to reveal their fangs when the time calls for it. I live for the hunt, and here he was, practically inviting me to sink my teeth in.

Nozel and Acier seemed a bit shaken by the crudeness of Sebastian's words—completely unfitting of a royal—but I could see the relief in their eyes. They were glad he had a plan and wasn't as soft as he seemed.

"So, when are they due to arrive?" Acier asked, her voice as soft and melodic as ever.

"Now, if you're all ready," Sebastian replied, glancing between the three of us. Well, four if you counted little Noelle.

Acier and Nozel both nodded, but something clicked in my head, and I raised a brow. "Where are the other two? And Aurelia?" I asked, noticing that Nebra, Solid, and Acier's younger sister—my aunt, Aurelia—were nowhere to be seen.

"I made an excuse to send them to the Vermillion estate with Aurelia for a visit. The fewer people who know, the better," Sebastian replied without a hint of emotion. "Those three don't exactly keep their mouths shut, and there are plenty of people who would love to see Acier dead. I'm not risking putting anyone on alert."

Surprisingly, it was Nozel who nodded in agreement, siding with the man he despised the most in the world—his father. But I understood the reasoning. When it came to saving Acier, no one could afford to take chances. As much as I respected Aunt Aurelia, she couldn't keep a secret if the world depended on it. And Nebra and Solid? Well, let's just say I had my doubts.

Reluctantly, I had to agree with them. "Alright, Sebastian," I said, addressing him by name for the first time. "I'm ready. Let them in."

Sebastian nodded, and on the wall in front of us, the water barrier shifted, morphing into a circular portal. From within his satchel, I watched as he pulled out an elegant communication device, encrusted with a crown jewel design and housed in a leather holster, the centerpiece being a glowing white communication crystal.

The crystal shimmered brighter as he spoke softly into it. "Alright, Alfred. Come on in."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the portal deepened into a black void, tendrils of shadow swirling and shaping it into a proper spatial gate. House Faust? I wondered to myself, recognizing their signature ability.

One by one, five figures stepped through the gate. The first was the Silva family's head butler, Alfred, who composed himself immediately upon entering. Without a word, he moved to stand behind Sebastian, his presence quiet but unwavering. But my attention quickly shifted to the next arrivals—two couples, standing on opposite sides of the room.

The couple nearest the doorway, positioned to the left of Acier's bed, instantly caught my eye. They looked... well, gothic, to say the least. It wasn't hard to peg them as husband and wife.

The man was tall and slender, his skin pale as death itself. His black hair was slicked back, his face long with a prominent nose, and he had no eyebrows. Dark circles of black eyeshadow surrounded his eyes, contrasting sharply with his black lipstick and nail polish. He sported a handlebar mustache and a goatee, adding to his eccentric appearance. His outfit was just as striking—a white, long-sleeved shirt beneath a dark grey vest, paired with grey trousers and polished black shoes. A red belt cinched his waist, and a white cravat hung over his shirt and vest. Completing his ensemble was a black coat with an upturned collar, and on his head sat a black top hat, adorned with a red band.

The woman at his side was even more slender, her skin as pale as his. Like her husband, she had no eyebrows, and dark circles of black eyeshadow surrounded her eyes, complemented by black lipstick and nail polish. She wore a high-collared, long-sleeved black dress, its severity broken only by a string of white pearls around her neck. A small black hat with red feathers perched on the right side of her head, completing the eerie, almost theatrical look.

My gaze shifted to the couple on the right—cleaner and more refined in appearance, yet somehow, they set off all my instincts. I had a gut feeling these two were the real troublemakers of the bunch. The man's grimoire floating in front of him confirmed my suspicions: he was the shadow user. The subtle pins on their jackets marked them as members of House Faust.

The man stood tall, around 6'1", his imposing height matched by an authoritative presence. His build was lean but muscular, the kind that spoke of both physical endurance and mental discipline. His face was sharp, with angular features that seemed to have been carved from stone, deep lines around his mouth and eyes betraying a life of strain and intensity. His piercing light blue eyes contrasted against his otherwise dark appearance, making them almost unsettling. Cold and calculating, his gaze carried the hint of something darker, perhaps a dangerous obsession. His jet-black hair, slicked back, was slightly disheveled, streaks of grey creeping in at his temples. He wore long, flowing black robes accented with deep crimson, the fabric etched with cryptic symbols and runes that only added to his eerie aura. A faint scent of incense or ash clung to him, deepening the unsettling vibe he gave off.

Beside him stood his wife, shorter than him by several inches, about 5'8", with a delicate yet graceful frame. Her presence, though ghostly, held a quiet strength and undeniable power. Slim and ethereal, she moved with the elegance of someone who had seen more than she cared to share. Her pale skin had a youthful smoothness to it, but it was her eyes—those light blue, all-knowing eyes—that hinted at some secret knowledge. There was an underlying tension or sadness in her serene expression, a fragility wrapped in mystery. Her sharp cheekbones and delicate features lent her an air of both beauty and sorrow.

Her long black hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, almost reaching her waist. Though mostly dark, a few strands of grey were visible, less noticeable than her husband's. She wore dark, flowing gowns reminiscent of gothic nobility, elegant yet understated. Like her husband's robes, hers were embroidered with strange symbols and insignias, though they were more subtle, less conspicuous.

Together, they radiated a quiet, unnerving power. If anyone in this room was going to cause trouble, it was these two.

Just then, Sebastian stood up, drawing all eyes to him. His gaze shifted between me and Acier, before gesturing toward the gothic couple on the left. "Meet Nathan and Jonna of the Agrippa family," he said. We offered awkward nods, which were met with equally awkward returns. The pair mumbled something under their breath, their voices so low that I found myself sweating, trying to decipher the words. But their murmurs were unintelligible, just a blur of sound.

Sebastian, clearly as unimpressed by their lack of clarity as I was, shrugged and pointed to the Faust couple. "These two, you might be more familiar with. Draven and Lilith of House Faust." While I hadn't personally crossed paths with them before, their names were well-known. The thought of challenging a shadow mage like Draven had long been a source of my curiosity. And Lilith, with that foreign aura of power, was no doubt someone I'd want to face in battle as well.

The two couples exchanged a brief series of nods, a silent understanding passing between them before all four turned their attention back to Sebastian. The Agrippas, it seemed, had tacitly given their approval to the Fausts, as Draven stepped forward to speak on behalf of the group.

"It's an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Sebastian, and Lady Acier," he began, his words flowing with practiced formality. "And to you, Lady Mereoleona." He bowed to the three of us, though I couldn't help but scoff at the unnecessary pleasantries.

"I believe I speak for both families when I say we were more than a little bewildered when the head butler of House Silva came to visit us personally, and secretly at that," Draven continued, his eyes narrowing as he cast a sidelong glance at Acier. "If this is about healing Lady Acier, you should know this is far beyond our expertise," he added, the Agrippas nodding in agreement as they, too, fixated on Acier.

The room fell into a brief silence as all four of them turned to focus on Sebastian again, as if expecting an explanation. Draven's voice rang out again, eerily calm, "But you're no fool, Sebastian. You knew that already."

Sebastian wasn't offended. In fact, I could see a smirk of undisguised amusement playing at the corner of his lips. He stepped closer to Acier's bed, positioning himself between us and the guests so that he didn't break the line of sight. Then, in a low voice that seemed to hold all the weight of the situation, he spoke.

"Of course, Draven. Let me cut to the chase and be clear. My wife and son have been cursed by her who should not be named. And I want to entrust your families with the task of curing them."

His words hung in the air like a heavy storm, with no room for misinterpretation. This wasn't just an invitation—it was a demand, and the gravity of it hit all of us at once

Sebastian Silva

As I voiced my request to the Agrippa and Faust families, I quickly closed the gap in the barrier for extra caution. It wouldn't completely stop a shadow user from escaping, but it should buy enough time for Mereoleona to capture them if they tried to flee. I wasn't too worried about their strength—after all, the Agrippas were never known for their combat prowess, and I highly doubted that Draven Faust was anywhere near the level Natch would eventually reach. It was widely believed that Natch was the most skilled devil host in his family. Even if Draven had contracted with a devil, it was probably a lower-ranking one.

Mereoleona, in her current state, should be more than capable of handling them. If the Agrippas and Fausts were offended by my demand, they didn't show it. Instead, Draven narrowed his eyes and spoke once more.

"So, you know about our families'... dark histories?"

"Yes, I do," I replied without hesitation. There was no use in playing dumb now. The sooner we got through this conversation, the sooner we could focus on healing Acier.

Turning to the Agrippa couple, I addressed the family leader, Nathan. "I'm well aware of your family's long history with poisons, curses, and hexes. I know that all curses originate from her—the devil who cursed my wife and son. And I also know that, long ago, your family made some kind of pact concerning this very devil."

Behind me, I felt Nozel and Acier tense up. Mereoleona's mana flared with anger, ready to strike. Without looking back, I raised my left hand, signaling them to calm down, and continued speaking to Nathan and his wife, Jonna.

"But I also know that it's your dream to turn your family's dark past into something beneficial for this kingdom. You want to use curses and poisons for healing, not harm." Nathan's eyes widened in shock at my words, and Jonna tightened her grip on his arm.

"To save my wife and lift the curse on my son, your expertise, research, and knowledge about curses and this devil are invaluable. So… please, will you help us?"

Then, in a gesture completely uncharacteristic of a royal like me, I extended my hand to a commoner.

The room fell into a stunned silence as Nathan stared at my outstretched hand, clearly shocked. Sebastian Silva, known for being an arrogant classist, doing something like this was beyond unexpected.

I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room boring into me, but my focus remained solely on the Agrippas. After a tense moment, Nathan glanced at his wife, who gave him a slight nod. He then turned back to me, offering a smile—though, with all his makeup, it looked more eerie than warm—and clasped my hand firmly.

As he returned the handshake, I smiled, though I couldn't help but sweatdrop when he mumbled something under his breath. Sighing, I said, "If we're going to work together, Nathan, I need you to speak up."

He looked at me awkwardly before clearing his throat and finally speaking clearly. "It would be an honor to work with House Silva and help save Lady Acier. Turning curses into medicine has always been my dream, and for you to give me this chance—to entrust me with your wife's life—means the world to me. From this moment on, we are friends."

Friend-starved, just like his son, I thought. His appearance might be unsettling, but I kept my expression neutral, thanking him with a smile as I pulled my hand back.

I then shifted my attention to the Faust couple on my right. "Every kingdom has a family entrusted with handling more... 'eerie' responsibilities. Like the Zogratis family in the Spade Kingdom, House Faust was responsible for researching devils and the otherworld to protect the Clover Kingdom," I began, delivering the speech I had carefully prepared beforehand. My words seemed to pique the interest of the Fausts, as Draven raised an intrigued eyebrow.

"But just like with the elves, the Clover Kingdom—especially its royals and nobles—grew fearful of devils. They showed their insecurity when confronted with the reality that there existed beings with far greater magic than themselves. In a kingdom where magic is everything, the ruling class couldn't accept the idea of being inferior. So they banned all mention, research, and history of devils and the otherworld, all to protect their fragile egos."

Draven gave a slow nod, confirming my words. I pressed on. "However, one family—House Faust—saw that as the height of foolishness. Your ancestors understood that once the gate to the otherworld opened, we would have no chance of survival without knowledge of what we were facing. So, while you officially stopped your research, you continued it in secret. Your family distanced itself from aristocratic society, retreating to the outskirts of the noble realm. In the end, you became nobles in name only, so you could pursue your studies away from prying eyes."

As I spoke, I watched Draven's eerie smile grow wider, his hand stroking his beard as the air in the room seemed to grow colder, raising the tension even further. Still, I remained unfazed and continued. "Personally, I found your family's actions honorable."

His unsettling smile faltered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by my unexpected praise.

"Sebastian," Acier called from behind me. Though we were seeking their help, openly praising devils and those who researched them was considered treason in the kingdom. A dangerous move.

This time, instead of ignoring her as I had done in the past, I turned to face her directly. Meeting her eyes, I mouthed, "Trust me."

Despite her weakened state, she stiffened at the gesture but gave me a firm nod. Satisfied, I turned back to the puzzled Faust couple, ready to continue.

"Keyword found," I said sharply. "Any pure intentions your family may have once had have withered away as you lost yourselves in the study of devils and the otherworld. Not only have you delved into forbidden magic, but you've gone as far as developing a devil-binding ritual—a ritual that summons devils from the otherworld and enslaves them, turning you into devil hosts. Your obsession has consumed you, just like devil worshippers and cultists, and if I let your hubris go unchecked, you will surely bring calamity upon this kingdom!"

If the atmosphere had been cold before, it was now scorching as Mereoleona's mana flared, her flames roaring around the room. Steam hissed and rose as her fire clashed with the water barrier surrounding us.

"These idiots did what?!" she growled in disbelief, stepping forward with fists encased in flames as she approached the Fausts. She wasn't alone—Nathan's grimoire floated before him, dark oil spiraling outward as he glared at the couple, while his wife hid behind him.

Meanwhile, Lilith Faust trembled behind her husband, but Draven remained eerily calm, his gaze fixed solely on me, ignoring the threats around him. "I'm sensing a 'but' here," he said, almost mockingly.

I nodded, turning to Nathan and Mereoleona. Nathan, to his credit, complied without hesitation—his spell faded as the black oil dissipated. Mereoleona, however, needed a bit more persuasion.

"Please," I simply said.

Surprised by the unusual politeness from someone like Sebastian Silva, she raised an eyebrow but eventually clicked her tongue in annoyance. Still, her flames extinguished, the temperature in the room slowly cooling down.

I turned back to Draven, ready to conclude my argument. "But at the end of the day, your family's knowledge and expertise are undeniably vital—not just to safeguard this kingdom from threats like the devil host who cursed my family, but to prepare for the otherworld. So, what do you say? Return to your roots and the original purpose of House Faust, and use your research for the sake of world peace." I couldn't help but think how much I sounded like Lucius right now. "House Silva will personally fund your work and provide the resources you need. I'm well aware your finances have been stretched thin since you distanced yourselves from aristocratic society, and your research costs must be significant."

Draven's brow rose slightly, his unsettling smile returning. "Aren't you worried that House Silva will become a target of hatred if our work is exposed?"

I shrugged. "Let's hope it never comes to that, or by the time it does, society will have shifted its attitude toward this field of research. But let me make one thing clear—while we will support you with funding and resources, we will not engage in any unethical practices, like human sacrifices. I know your devil-binding platform is littered with skulls."

Draven's smile faded into a frown. "We've done no such thing. All sacrifices are animals or magic beasts. The blood we use is our own. And as for those bones, they belong to failed devil hosts—people who consented to the ritual. To bind a devil, one must be completely focused and committed. Forcing it on anyone would be pointless; they'd just add to the pile of corpses."

I gave a casual shrug. "Just making sure."

"Father."

The word took me by surprise. I turned, bewildered, to see Nozel standing behind me. He had just called me "father." His anxious, flustered expression made it clear he was struggling, but I kept my composure, not letting the joy show on my face. Instead, I maintained my regal poise and calmly asked, "Yes?"

"A-are w-we r-really... working with these treasonous filth?!" he shouted, his voice trembling with indignation. He was clearly furious at the thought of being associated with House Faust.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Draven observing the scene, not offended but rather intrigued, curious to see how I would handle my son's outburst. Acier and Mereoleona weren't exactly pleased either, and their silence weighed on me. Mereoleona's mana still flared faintly, and Acier's fear and concern were palpable.

I looked down at Nozel, who was holding his baby sister, Noelle, in his arms—oblivious to the gravity of the situation. I gently brought my hand down to his head, and he tensed, probably expecting some sort of reprimand. But instead, I ruffled his hair.

He looked at me, utterly bewildered, as I spoke softly. "We'll do anything to save your mother. We don't want your sister growing up without ever knowing her, do we?" I gestured toward Noelle, her small form nestled in his arms.

Nozel's brows furrowed, his face slick with sweat. "N-no... but... this is wrong! It's treason! Betrayal of the kingdom and of our family's honor! How can I call myself a Magic Knight? How can I possibly aspire to be the Wizard King if I consent to this?! This violates human morality—noblesse oblige!"

I glanced briefly at Acier and Mereoleona. Both wore troubled expressions. Acier feared death, yes, but more than that, she feared losing herself and dragging her family down a dark path. Mereoleona, for all her wildness and defiance, had been raised with the same ideals of duty and honor that weighed on Nozel now. Despite her love and respect for Acier, turning a blind eye to a royal house working with devil worshippers was something she couldn't easily accept.

Only Alfred, the quietest of us all, seemed unaffected. He had already made peace with what we were about to do, taking to heart the words I'd spoken to him in our first meeting after I had transmigrated into this body.

I sighed, looking down at Nozel again, then surprised him by clasping his shoulders and kneeling to meet his gaze directly. His eyes widened as I softly asked, "Is it?"

"H-huh?" He blinked, tightening his grip on Noelle, clearly baffled by my question.

"Is this truly a violation of our duty and honor?" I elaborated.

"O-of c-course it is! What kind of nonsense is that?!" he yelled, his frustration spilling over.

"Okay," I responded calmly, nodding without emotion, which seemed to catch him off guard. Then I continued, "Why?"

"W-why? Why?!" He was beside himself, unable to believe I even asked the question. "Because devils, and anyone who makes contact with them, are the epitome of evil!"

"And what makes them evil?" I pressed. When I saw that he was about to lose his temper and likely summon his mercury magic, I quickly added, "Does not associating with devils automatically make someone good?"

He paused, taking a deep breath to regain his composure, though he was clearly struggling with the question. "Make your point, Father," he muttered, biting his lip in frustration.

I met his gaze and spoke plainly. "Nobles and royals are corrupt—more so than you can imagine. We run underground slave trades, assassinate rivals, bribe the courts to get away with our crimes, and sell national secrets to other kingdoms for personal gain. So what would you do if I told you that House Faust, a family that makes deals with devils, is one of the cleanest families in noble society?"

"Impossible!" he exclaimed, vehemently rejecting the idea.

I sighed and stood up, gesturing for him to turn and face Alfred.

Alfred glanced at us, nodding as he pulled out a stack of papers from the folder he was carrying and adjusted his monocle. He began reading his report.

"Young Master Nozel, Lord Sebastian entrusted me with conducting an investigation into House Faust and the Agrippa family to verify any foul play and determine whether they are trustworthy allies for collaboration. Please note that, given the short timeframe, these reports may not be entirely comprehensive. However, by bribing members of the royal court and purchasing information from multiple sources, I was able to reach a reliable conclusion on how to assess these two families."

He paused, glancing briefly at Nozel before continuing. "The report on the Agrippas is as follows: since Nathan Agrippa took charge of his family, there have been no indications of criminal activity or even minor infractions. Additionally, he has repaid all outstanding dues and debts to the kingdom and various banks accumulated during his father's reign."

Nozel remained indifferent, clearly unconcerned about the Agrippas, as they weren't the source of his anxiety. Alfred, unfazed, licked his finger, flipped to the next page, and carried on. "As for House Faust," he began, drawing everyone's full attention, "their only notable offenses include a potential failure to pay the appropriate taxes for May of the previous calendar year and occasional bribes to the royal court to keep their eldest son, Nacht Faust, out of custody whenever his petty pranks went too far. All in all, this places them in the top 1% of noble families with the least reported or suspected criminal activities and underhanded dealings. This pattern has remained consistent since they secluded themselves at the edge of the noble realm generations ago."

After finishing, Alfred neatly returned the papers to his folder and bowed. "Based on my findings, I conclude that both the Agrippa family and House Faust are reliable allies. That concludes my report."

"Thank you, Alfred," I said with a nod. He returned to his usual stoic posture, standing beside Acier's bed, blending into the background. I shifted my gaze between my wife Acier, Mereoleona, and Nozel.

"So," I asked, calm but expectant, "are you willing to follow my lead and make a deal with House Faust?" I waited for their answers, letting the weight of the decision settle in the room.

Acier's expression was conflicted—caught between her desire to live and her fear of endangering the family. Mereoleona clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. "The one who's willing is me. House Vermillion has nothing to do with this," she muttered.

I acknowledged her with a grateful nod and turned my attention to Nozel, who walked over to his mother. He carefully took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze while Noelle wriggled in his arms. Without even looking in my direction, he spoke.

"We're willing," he said, his voice steady but laced with reluctance. "But that doesn't mean I like it."

Acier's eyes welled up, her smile both grateful and sorrowful as she looked at her son. I took a deep breath, my gaze softening as I watched them. "If this turns out to be the wrong decision, the only one who has sinned is me," I said quietly.

Acier shot me a complicated look, about to say something when Nozel interrupted, still not facing me.

"No," he said, his grip on his mother's hand tightening. "I gave my consent. I'm equally guilty. It's not fair for you to take all the blame."

My eyes widened in surprise at his words. He held his mother's hand even tighter as he continued, his voice more resolute. "We'll bear all the pain and sins this decision brings... together, as a family."

I felt a lump form in my throat as silence settled over the room again. My son—the one who had every reason to despise me—had just acknowledged me as family. I fought back the urge to tear up. Not wanting to embarrass myself by continuing to look at him, I turned back to the Faust couple, needing to regain my composure. I extended my hand to Draven.

"So, we have a deal?" I asked, my voice steady, though my emotions were tightly restrained.

Draven's smile shifted from eerie to something more genuine as he grasped my hand firmly. "It's my pleasure," he said, his tone oozing confidence. Our eyes locked as we shook hands, both of us maintaining an emotionless facade.

But inside, it felt like I had just struck a deal with the devil. I couldn't shake the feeling that Alfred, in his quiet acceptance, was the one who had already made peace with this decision—when really, it should've been me. Looking into Draven's eyes, I saw arrogance, and a deep sense of foreboding crept into my thoughts. This man was foolish enough to believe that his son could bind a supreme devil, and I couldn't help but envision the catastrophic consequences. Images of Lucifugus' darkness engulfing House Faust—and even House Silva—flashed in my mind, threatening the very future I was fighting to protect.

I mentally berated myself and shoved those dark thoughts aside. That future will never come to pass, I told myself firmly. This is the right decision. I had to believe that. It was all for Acier, and for Noelle—to give her the childhood she deserved.


章節 5: Preliminary Treatment (1)

I stood silent, my heart a battlefield of turmoil as I watched Sebastian—my father, a title I loathed to utter—seal his fate with the contemptible wretches of House Faust. The way he shook hands with that devilish fiend, Draven Faust, sent a chill down my spine, and I felt a surge of anger threaten to spill over. I had to will myself to loosen my grip on my baby sister, Noelle, cradled in my arms. It was maddening to think that I could unintentionally crush her fragile spirit beneath the weight of my own disgust.

Draven's smug grin, so unfittingly triumphant, only solidified my resolve to despise him and everything he represented. I couldn't allow myself to rage against the man who had betrayed everything our house stood for, but the temptation was suffocating. Sensing my agitation, my mother squeezed my hand, her warmth grounding me in that moment of chaos. I met her eyes, and despite the pallor of her illness, that smile—fragile but radiant—was brighter than the sun. She looked like a delicate flower on the verge of wilting, and it stung to witness her sitting there, a mere shadow of the fierce warrior she once was.

But my mother's suffering would not be in vain. I would do whatever necessary to restore her strength, even if it meant grappling with the very darkness that had reduced the legendary Acier Silva, the dancing princess of the battlefield, to this pitiful state. I'd barter my soul, if need be, to see her rise again, to reclaim her rightful place among the stars where she belonged. Family was my heart, my reason for existence, and if that meant casting aside my principles and morals—my proud identity, the very essence of my being as a Clover Kingdom Royal, as a member of House Silva, and a loyal Silver Eagle—then so be it. The notion of being Wizard King felt irretrievably distant, perhaps even beyond my reach, in light of my current resolve. I could feel the taste of that ignominy in the corners of my mouth, bitter and acrid, and yet it was not enough to deter me.

I glanced to my side and caught Mereoleona's restless tapping, her impatience palpable even amidst this tragic gathering. She had made her decision to cooperate in this despicable alliance, to save the woman we revered, her mentor in every sense but title. Yet, I could see clear as day that the flames burning within her matched my own—a shared disdain for the common enemy we must now face. Our pride was at stake here, and though we stood on opposite sides of a bloody rivalry, beneath the veneer of formality, we shared a singular commitment: a fierce loyalty to our family and homeland.

Calamity in the air thickened as I steeled myself against the tide of dread. I would not falter. Even if my worth as a Wizard King was eclipsed by the very actions I was willing to commit, I would carry the weight of my family's expectations on my shoulders. I would not let the darkness consume my heart—not if it meant bringing back the light.

I let out a heavy sigh, settling on the edge of my mother's bed, a sentinel in this sea of uncertainty. My gaze drifted toward my father, Draven, and Nathan Agrippa, the head of the Agrippa family, as they engaged in hushed discussions. Their leaning figures and furtive gestures were reminiscent of a crowded theater, where the actors deigned to pretend they shared the same stage as my mother and me, when in truth, they were worlds apart. I couldn't muster the energy to decipher their murmurings, so I remained a silent observer, watching this farcical display unfold—a Royal, a Noble, and a Commoner, squabbling like children over who would claim the final piece of cake. Their heads shook in unison, a tedious choreography as they seemingly reached a consensus, their eyes flicking nervously toward my mother and me.

When my father finally took command of the room, clapping his hands to rally attention, it reminded me of a jester trying to captivate an audience with flimsy tricks. "Alright, everyone," he began, and though his tone echoed authority, it did little to mask the anxiety threading through his words, "I don't think I have to mention it, but just to ensure we're all on the same page… My son and wife have been cursed by the progenitor of all curses." A heavy pause hung in the air, thickening the atmosphere with the weight of our dire predicament. "This isn't a problem that can be solved in a day or two. Especially not Acier's curse."

A fresh wave of dread washed over me, crystallizing the reality that I would have to endure regular meetings with these heretics masquerading as healers. My mother, sensing my dismay deepening, tightened her grip on my hand, and a pang of guilt shot through me. I cursed myself silently. How could I allow despair to cloud my thoughts when she was fighting for her life? Dr. Owen and esteemed healers from across the Kingdom had assured us that she had little more than two weeks left. I could still hear the crude whispers of some insensitive guests, lacking any semblance of decorum, suggesting preparations for her funeral like it was a trivial arrangement. They spoke to my mother with a flippancy that ignited a fury within me, and I envisioned ridding the world of such contemptible souls with swift and merciless justice.

In a rare moment of tenderness, my father moved to my mother's side and placed a gentle hand on her frail shoulder—a gesture so unexpectedly compassionate that it nearly knocked the wind out of me. As he leaned over her, his voice softened, carrying a strange warmth. "However," he continued, "extending your lifespan somewhat and getting your body back in decent shape so you can at least rise from this bed will be no issue in the short term. But completely removing the curse and 'her' influence on you..." He hesitated, as if the enormity of the task weighed heavy in the air, "... that will be another matter altogether."

A wave of relief coursed through me at his words, but I quickly masked it. My mother looked up at him with gratitude, her eyes a mix of hope and despair. It felt wrong to indulge in a fleeting sentiment of warmth toward him. The truth of Sebastian Silva often played like a twisted melody in my mind—many might have mistaken him for a devoted husband, but behind closed doors, whispers claimed he was just a means to an end, intended to produce heirs to extend the Silva bloodline. It wasn't a secret; it was an open wound disguised as familial loyalty.

So why now? Why had this man, normally so indifferent, suddenly taken to his role of a doting husband and father? Was this genuine care or simply a performance, a desperate charade to uphold his reputation among the nobles? I couldn't shake the feeling that this was some elaborate act, a show with the purpose of keeping the Silva name from further disgrace. Yes, I nodded to myself, grappling with the unfolding complexity of emotions. It was that simple. Or at least, I forced myself to believe it was.

I opened my mouth, feeling a simmering determination rise within me. "That's all we can ask for." With those words, I commanded the room's attention, capturing their gazes—Nathan Agrippa received a nod of gratitude from me, while my acknowledgment of Draven Faust came with far less enthusiasm. The two women, standing silently behind their husbands, faded into the backdrop of this desperate tableau. Why were they even here, I questioned, a sense of unease creeping in. Then an unsettling thought struck me: Sebastian had mentioned to Mereoleona that if the Agrippas and Fausts dared refuse to attend to my mother's needs, he wouldn't hesitate to hold them hostage until they acquiesced. But would these men bend so easily?

I let my eyes flicker to Jonna Agrippa and Lilith Faust, standing dutifully behind their husbands like shadows—an unsettling picture of loyalty that fueled my suspicions. What could they hold dear enough to make them cower, lest they find themselves in conflict? Perhaps the lives of their wives were the leverage Sebastian sought. It was a sobering tactic, a grim reminder that my father was a master of manipulation and control. I glanced back at him, his hands gently coaxing my mother, and a wave of resentment surged within me. No illusions here; Sebastian Silva had always been a cruel, calculating man, one willing to drag us all through hell to fulfill his desires.

Yet, infuriatingly, this time his desires aligned with my mother's best interest. I shook my head, forcefully brushing aside the dark thoughts swirling in my mind. "My 'situation,'" I carefully reframed the curse, speaking it as lightly as possible, for I feared mentioning it directly would awaken its malignancy, ready to consume me—"is of no immediate concern. Please, see to my mother first; I can wait my turn." It seemed the wisest course of action to advocate for her welfare, but the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

"Unacceptable." My father closed his eyes, shaking his head without a moment's hesitation.

"And why not?!" I shot back, incredulity spilling over like poison. For goodness' sake, Sebastian, your wife is dying! How could you prioritize my small dilemma above her life? Or was this yet another of your sadistic games—manipulating her feelings, forcing her to choose between her son's survival and her own? I could envision her agreeing, desiring to put me first, only for her own time to slip away and leave her lifeless when help arrived too late. The fury and disgust must have been written across my face, unfiltered and raw, as he cleared his throat.

But before he could utter a word, Draven Faust intervened, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

"Lord Nozel." I turned reluctantly to Draven Faust, appreciating the politeness he extended my way despite my unofficial status as the successor of House Silva. Ignoring him outright wasn't an option; I'd need his expertise to free me from my curse and, more crucially, to heal my mother.

"What?" I snapped, annoyance creeping into my voice as he disrupted the urgent conversation I had been gearing up to have with Sebastian.

Draven seemed undeterred by my impatience, speaking as if he was a common servant. "What Lord Sebastian was trying to allude to was the peculiar nature of your curse."

"Peculiar?" I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. Compared to my mother's dire straits, my curse was nothing more than an annoying hurdle—merely a prohibition against disclosing anything about the events leading to our current crisis.

"Yes, peculiar." He nodded sagely. "If what Lord Sebastian just informed me and Sir Agrippa is accurate, then it would seem that after your mother heavily wounded the devil host responsible for this incident, she was forced to flee in haste, only remembering to curse you as well to prevent any knowledge of her crimes from leaking."

I nodded slowly, my thoughts a tumultuous storm beneath a calm facade. It was one thing for Sebastian to be aware of the curse, but how did he know the details of the battle? Had he had eyes on the villa? No, that couldn't be. Mother would have sensed any prying eyes and made sure to keep them at bay, even if it was from her own husband. Had he witnessed the confrontation first-hand? If so, why had he simply stood by, doing nothing? Even a man as cruel and indifferent as he shouldn't have been able to overlook the suffering of his wife and child. What of noble pride? Shouldn't he have intervened against the marauder who dared to invade the Silva estate? Or was he simply a coward, too afraid to confront the threat that had forced Mother into such a desperate position? A sneer curled on my lips in silent disdain as I awaited Draven's next words, eager to peel back more layers of this unsettling mystery.

I scanned my mother's expression, searching for any sign of understanding or agreement with my thoughts. But her face was an impassive mask, leaving me in the dark about her feelings. Draven, for his part, displayed no awareness of my growing dread. Perhaps he simply didn't care; he pressed on without missing a beat.

"In her haste, the Devil Host cursed you with, quite honestly, a regulation so feeble and unworthy of someone capable of wielding the power of a Supreme Devil and the Mother of all curses."

"So?" I arched an eyebrow, an incredulous frown creasing my brow. Wasn't that a good thing? Shouldn't it mean that the priority should be my dying mother, not me?

"So," Draven continued smoothly, unperturbed by my skepticism, "this puts you in a peculiar situation. Devils are notoriously fickle and often driven by petty whims. Once 'her' host heals, 'She who should not be named' might use the curse she left on you as a tether to inflict even greater misfortune upon you—or even end your life outright if she's in a particularly merciless mood. It is truly remarkable for standard curse users to execute such acts from afar, but for her, it's merely a matter of disposition."

A cold churn rippled through my stomach as dread pooled within me. Sweat broke out on my forehead, and instinctively, I turned to Nathan Agrippa. If anyone could lend credibility to Draven's alarming claims, it was the head of a family renowned across the kingdom for their expertise in curses, particularly those tied to this very devil. But heaven did not favor me today; he simply offered a somber nod, validating Draven's words. My heart sank—Draven Faust was telling the truth.

A wave of guilt washed over me, my shame evident on my face. I could feel heat creeping up my cheeks as I cast a glance at my father, whose expression now held genuine concern. Biting my lip, I slightly bowed my head and mumbled an apology. "I'm sorry for my outburst."

Anticipating a smug, derisive response when I looked back up, I was taken aback by the soft, understanding nod he offered instead. "It's not an issue warranting an apology." I felt momentarily tongue-tied, an array of conflicting emotions bubbling within me. Fortunately, my mother chose that moment to shatter the awkward silence, her presence a welcome distraction.

Squeezing my hand anxiously, my mother gazed at me with an intensity that suggested I might vanish from her life at any moment. "Nozel, you need to be treated first." Without waiting for my response, she jerked her head toward Nathan and Draven, transforming her concern into a demand. "See to my son first." Her insistence echoed my earlier words of concern for her wellbeing, stirring a complex mix of anxiety and warmth within me.

Draven and Nathan exchanged a glance with my father, who nodded in agreement, offering no counter to my mother's request as they stepped toward me. Ignoring the decorum of the situation, Draven casually grabbed the chair Mereoleona had been sitting on and positioned it directly in front of me. Without hesitation, he pointed to the chair and spoke with an authority that suggested he believed he outranked me.

"Hand your sister off, take off your top garment, and sit down so we can examine your throat."

In the wake of the emotional whirlwind I had just experienced, I found no offense in his brusque tone and simply nodded in response. But as I approached Noelle to pass her to someone else, I hesitated. My mother was too frail to hold her; I could never trust a wild Vermillion child with my precious baby sister. Even Fuegoleon, one of the most composed Vermillions I knew, treated infantile Leopold like he was impervious to harm. There was no way I'd hand Noelle over to the beast that was Mereoleona—especially considering her unstable mental state. As for the Agrippa and Faust matriarchs, I still held reservations about their motives, despite having accepted their assistance.

That left only Alfred. Determined, I made my way to the other side of the bed, intending to hand Noelle off to the chief butler. But just as I reached out, a broad arm unexpectedly intercepted my path, halting me in my tracks.

"

"Yes?" I looked at my father, puzzled, as he stopped me, an expression of annoyance—or was it offense?—crossing his face for reasons I couldn't comprehend. Strangely, he hadn't seemed to take my earlier rudeness to heart.

He extended both arms, bending them to cradle Noelle, which made me tense up instantly. "I'll take her," he declared.

"You?!" I couldn't contain my disbelief. The silence that filled the room confirmed my absurdity; even my mother, Alfred, and Mereoleona were staring at my father as though he had grown a second head. It was astonishing—Sebastian Silva had never once held one of his children. He hadn't even met Noelle until yesterday, a whole year after her birth, and he'd been entirely absent during her birth (Solid was the only sibling who had the 'honor', of his attendance, at his birth).

His absence would likely have continued, had my mother not fallen ill. He had come solely for her, and Noelle had simply been an afterthought. So why this sudden interest? I wanted to voice my question but noticed the veins on his forehead bulging with frustration, his patience visibly wearing thin—a sight unbecoming of someone from the composed House Silva, especially its Patriarch. I sensed I had already pushed his limits for the day.

Unconsciously, I loosened my grip on my baby sister just enough for him to snatch her from me. I watched in stunned silence as he expertly positioned one hand under Noelle's head and neck. He cradled the back of her head with his fingers while supporting her neck with his palm. Without a moment's hesitation, he slid his other hand underneath to secure her bottom. Gently, he brought her toward his chest in a way that seemed all too natural for him, holding her precisely as she liked—her head nestled in the crook of his arm, her body resting along his forearm while he used his other hand for support.

Noelle squirmed a bit, her eyes widening in surprise at the unfamiliar man holding her. As I opened my mouth to placate her, fearing she would cry, I was left speechless yet again. Sebastian began to rock her gently back and forth, humming softly and shushing her. To my astonishment, she paused, letting out a delighted giggle and a bright smile.

My mouth fell agape in shock, mirrored by Alfred and Mereoleona. Strangely, my mother seemed less bewildered than the rest of us. She let out a soft sigh, her expression a complex blend of emotions as she looked at my father before allowing a fond smile to emerge at the sight before her. He lifted his gaze to us, and the gentle warmth he had shown Noelle evaporated into an irksome frown.

"What?" he snapped, irritation evident in his voice. "Is it such an inconceivable spectacle? Holding a child isn't rocket science."

But you've never done it before! I wanted to shout in indignation. Even if you've witnessed others do it countless times, shouldn't there be some hint of awkwardness the first time you try? I sighed in frustration, turning away to see Draven and Nathan awkwardly pretending to be invisible, wishing they hadn't seen this unfolding drama.

I paused to unbutton my shirt, laying it neatly on the edge of my mother's bed before sitting half-naked in the chair before them, resigned and ready for my examination.

"Raise your head," Nathan mumbled his first words in what felt like ages. I complied, lifting my chin to expose my throat for examination. Indifferently, I observed as Draven and Nathan bent down, scrutinizing my immaculate neck as if they were uncovering some hidden truth. The curse I had believed to be invisible, felt only in the depths of my being, appeared to them like an open book, ready for review.

Draven shot Nathan a peculiar look, prompting Nathan to glance at Draven's right wrist for some inexplicable reason, his mouth tightening into a frown of clear distaste. A sense of foreboding washed over me as I watched them straighten up, Nathan taking a considerable step back behind Draven.

"What'd you find?" Mereoleona growled from my side. I didn't turn my head; instead, I kept my focus on Draven, who seemed to hesitate.

Rather than responding right away, Draven rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a stringed bracelet adorned with what looked disturbingly like teeth, dangling like grotesque beads. "Instead of telling you, it's better to show you." That was all he said before he raised his hand.

Mana began to channel into the bracelet, and his grimoire floated in front of him, while his dark, shadowy mana twisted and curled like tendrils of despair, thickening the tension in the room.

In an instant, Mereoleona was in front of me, her back facing me, as flames flickered menacingly on her fists and sparks danced beneath her feet. "What do you think you're doing?!" she demanded, her voice imbued with excitement. If I weren't so preoccupied, I might have felt touched by her fierce protectiveness. But the exhilaration in her tone, coupled with the wild grin I could easily imagine on her face, told a different story.

Mereoleona was a force of nature, never the type to sit idle. Watching a neighboring royal family negotiate with beings like these must have been unbearable for her, and the chance to unleash her pent-up frustrations in battle was a godsend.

Draven looked taken aback, his usual air of confidence wavering for a brief moment as Mereoleona's fiery mana threatened to consume him. He opened his mouth, likely to justify his actions, but someone beat him to it.

"Wait." My father's voice cut through the tension, urging me to turn around and face him. I resisted the impulse; any distraction might render me vulnerable to a sneak attack from the Faust heir. Instead, I kept my gaze fixed forward, anticipating that he would reprimand Mereoleona or urge her to calm down once more. Yet, this time, that reprimand never came.

"You can't just do something like that and expect us to understand without explaining yourself, can you?" he questioned Draven, his tone adopting the cadence of a teacher addressing a wayward child. I nearly stifled a laugh at the absurdity of it. "I know your two families aren't the best socially, but for the love of God, you should at least retain some common sense. What did you think was going to happen?"

Draven ceased channeling his mana, his presence dwindling as he appeared sheepish, an amalgam of shame and embarrassment washing over him. He began to speak softly, "I was about to—"

"Summon your devil, I know." My father cut him off, and it took a moment for the weight of those words to sink in. In disbelief, I shot up from my chair, my grimoire at my side, mercury swirling around me as I instinctively positioned myself protectively in front of my mother.

"You want to die?!" Mereoleona shouted at Draven, her earlier excitement morphing into blazing fury. It was inconceivable that he would be so audacious as to summon a devil in front of royals, especially knowing he was already exposed as a devil worshipper. Even alluded to binding one himself! Did he truly lack the insight to recognize our disdain for their kind? Though we had agreed to shelter his family and cooperate, that didn't mean he could act recklessly. This kind of boldness was baffling.

I heard a sigh from behind me, and despite my resolve, I couldn't help but glance back. My father sat at my mother's bedside, Noelle comfortably nestled in his arms. He opened his mouth once more, maintaining unwavering eye contact with Draven as he posed the crucial question, "Why do you need to summon your devil?"

Draven shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as he explained. "To make the curse visible to everyone, so I can clarify its effects. I also want to ensure I'm not missing any vital details for my judgment by examining it more closely."

I wanted to shout in indignation, "So just tell us, don't keep up your mysterious vibe!" But yet again, my father beat me to it.

"Next time you pull a stunt like this," he advised, "try to give a heads-up to avoid any grave misunderstandings, alright?"

Draven nodded before asking, "So, may I resume?"

I watched as my father likely shook his head in refusal before continuing, "Just a moment. I need to know the rank of the devil you're intending to summon. Anything above mid-rank, and I cannot condone this form of examination in good conscience. My reasons should be clear. If you attempt anything with my wife in her current condition, no one here would be able to stop you."

I silently cursed myself for missing such a vital detail. Shaking off the self-deprecating thoughts, I turned my focus back to Draven, my tension resurfacing and my guard instinctively rising again.

Draven shook his head, clearly denying the implication, which brought me a sense of relief. "I'm only contracted, or rather 'bound'—that's the better word—to a singular mid-rank devil. His name is Azazel. He is connected to me through this medium." He gestured to his peculiar bracelet, continuing, "To summon him, I need to channel my mana through it." [1]

"Very well, you may proceed." My father's voice was firm and unwavering, and he directed his gaze toward me. "Nozel, get back on the chair," he ordered.

"But Father—" I began to protest, knowing a mid-rank devil was still a devil. This was too dangerous, especially with Mother and Noelle in the room.

"Nozel." I felt a jolt as my father effectively shut down my argument without allowing me to voice it fully. His expression was devoid of amusement, and I could see his patience wearing thin with my refusals. But then he paused, softening his demeanor slightly as he continued, "If we want to see any results, we have to take risks. Nothing else will cure you and save your mother. Have faith in Mereoleona... and... have faith in me. Please?"

I bit my lip, watching him plead with me, the hurt in his eyes clear as he sought my trust. It frustrated me; how could he expect me to believe after being essentially a stranger for the first fifteen years of my life? He waltzed back in yesterday and expected me to follow his lead blindly?

I huffed a sigh, unable to meet his gaze. Instead, I turned to Mereoleona, who shot me a confident grin while pointing to Draven. Flames danced at her fingertips as she declared, "Just trust me, kid. If he tries anything, I'll smoke him, devil and all."

Reluctantly, I let out another sigh before looking back at my father, his gaze still locked on me. I gave him a wordless nod, signaling my reluctant acceptance. Turning back, I made my way to the chair and seated myself. The temperature in the room dropped as Mereoleona's flames extinguished, and I watched as Draven began channeling his mana into his bracelet once more.

His shadowy mana began to intertwine with an otherworldly presence, manifesting in dark specks around him. I watched with undisguised curiosity as a pitch-black, impish creature materialized before us. It was so indistinct that you could hardly make out any defining characteristics, save for an outline of its form. Small enough to fit in my palm, it had two goat-like horns atop its head, a pair of angelic wings that exuded a malevolent air, two pupilless white eyes, and a stubby tail resembling that of a goat.

Despite its diminutive size, the dread it instilled in me was palpable. If a mid-rank devil possessed as much mana as this creature, which was more than that of the average royal, just how terrifying must the devil bound to the wretch Mother faced be?

I observed Azazel float in front of Draven, bowing his head in submission. "How may I serve you, Master Draven?" It was a bizarre sight, witnessing a devil—one that education and the church had consistently branded as a vicious beast, filled with malice and cunning—addressing Draven as if he were a common servant.

Rather than responding to Azazel, Draven looked toward us. "I'm about to channel his power through me to begin the examination. Is that alright?"

"Proceed," my father's emotionless voice came from behind me, stirring a strange mix of apprehension and confidence within me. I watched Azazel bow once more to his master before hopping onto Draven's shoulder and tapering off into shadow.

"Mode: Insight," Draven spat out.

In that instant, it happened. Draven's Faust mana surged upward, his presence intensifying with every passing moment. I watched, cold sweat trickling down my back, as a pair of black goat horns—Weg, the wicked symbols that supposedly manifested on those who dabbled in forbidden magic—erupted from his forehead. His eyes narrowed, pupils becoming sharper as his face morphed beneath a strange goat-like mask, revealing fangs as his teeth erupted into vicious points. His ears curled outward, and from his back, wings just like Azazel's unfurled. But unlike Azazel, Draven bore not one pair but six: twelve wings sprouted evenly from both sides of his back, resembling those of an angel cast out of paradise.

A longer tail emerged from him, weaving through the air with an unsettling grace. His form bulked up, muscles expanding as his hands and feet turned more claw-like, nails elongating into menacing talons. The transformation was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, leaving me unsure of what to expect next.

I felt my dread swell as I examined him, his presence evoking memories of the witch who had cursed my mother. Though not on her level, he was disturbingly close. What did that mean? The Faust house, often regarded as a joke in the noble realm—noble in name only—had quietly birthed a powerhouse at least on par with a magic knight captain. With my mother in her current condition, there were arguably only two individuals capable of stopping Draven: Conrad Leto and Julius Novachrono. If he were to lose control, the havoc he could wreak upon this kingdom was unimaginable.

As he stepped closer to me, I noticed Mereoleona watching him intently, her gaze hawkish yet betraying a mix of nervous excitement as sweat beaded on her brow. My earlier assessments were proving to be far more accurate than I had hoped. Draven slowly narrowed his eyes, looking down on me with cold indifference, and an unsettling realization set in. Perhaps my father had made a mistake? Perhaps we were not the predators here, but rather the prey—or worse, the hostages. I gulped, steeling my resolve while desperately trying to mask the fear coursing through me.

For the first time in years, I found myself silently wishing that my father was right and that I was the one who was wrong

Author's Note:

[1] Regarding Azazel: In the Hebrew Bible, the name Azazel (Hebrew: עֲזָאזֵל ʿĂzāʾzēl) designates a desolate location to which a scapegoat, laden with the sins of the Jewish people, was sent during Yom Kippur. In the late Second Temple period, following the compilation of the Hebrew Bible canon, Azazel evolved in interpretation to be seen as a fallen angel, who was believed to have imparted forbidden knowledge to humanity, as referenced in the Book of Enoch. This portrayal of Azazel as a fallen angel continues to influence both Christian and Islamic traditions. In these narratives, he is often depicted as a formidable figure with seven heads, fourteen faces, and a human-like form adorned with six wings on each side.


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