Chapter 01
(May 3, 2023)
The dark underground prison was filled with the fishy smell of moss and mold.
Even though he had worked here for a long time, the guard still couldn’t get used to the stench. Frowning, he looked at the woman occupying the innermost cell.
Her thick silver hair—like melted moonlight—fell carelessly over her chest.
Snow-white skin, a sharp nose, small red lips, and clear blue eyes that seemed to hold the sea.
The woman looked mysterious and beautiful, like a fairy from a fairy tale.
Her clothes were somewhat shabby, but they couldn’t hide her beauty.
“Get a hold of yourself!”
When the guard stared at the woman in a daze, clearly captivated, his colleague jabbed him hard in the side with his elbow.
“Don’t get bewitched by a witch! If that happens, you’ll be burned at the stake as an accomplice!”
“Ah, sorry. She’s just so pretty that I lost myself for a moment…”
“That’s a witch’s typical trick. They charm people with their looks and then use dark magic to turn them into puppets.”
Right. The guard agreed with his colleague and glared at the witch.
“Hey, about that witch. I heard she said she’s Olben’s daughter?”
“Yeah. Tsk. Even if she’s desperate, how could she tell such an absurd lie?”
“Exactly. Everyone in the village knows that Olben’s daughter died long ago.”
This was a tiny territory with fewer than a hundred households.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the villagers even knew how many spoons their neighbors owned.
Yet suddenly a woman no one had ever seen before appeared and claimed to be the daughter of Olben, who had lived here for over twenty years.
It was ridiculous.
“Still, it seems like she did some research. She even knows the name of Olben’s dead daughter.”
“Right. What was that daughter’s name again?”
“I think it was Irene.”
While the guards were talking, the woman—who had been burying her face between her knees—slowly lifted her head when she heard her name.
“C-cough. What’s for lunch today?”
“I-I don’t know. Ah, I’m hungry.”
The guards were startled when their eyes met hers. Pretending nothing had happened, they quickly left the prison.
Left alone, Irene stared down at the moss-covered floor with slightly unfocused eyes.
“I am his daughter though…”
It wasn’t something she had wished for.
When she was born, she simply happened to be that man’s daughter—and because of that, she had to call him father whether she wanted to or not.
But the villagers all insisted she couldn’t possibly be Olben’s daughter.
She understood why they said that.
After all, the villagers had never seen Irene even once.
The same was true for Irene.
Since birth, she had lived only inside the house and had never met anyone except her parents.
So she understood why they didn’t know her.
But that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that they claimed she had killed Olben and his wife and set the village on fire.
Because of that, they also called her a witch.
And that was something she couldn’t accept.
It wasn’t that she was denying it just to avoid being burned at the stake.
She truly hadn’t done it.
She didn’t know who set the fire or killed Olben.
But she did know who killed her mother.
It was Olben, that man.
Her mother had tried to stop him while he was drunk and violent.
But she hit her head on the edge of a table and died just like that.
After seeing it, I…
Irene slowly blinked as she tried to recall the memory.
But nothing came to mind.
After confirming her mother’s death, she had lost consciousness.
And when she woke up, she found herself wandering aimlessly through flames.
That was when the villagers found her and dragged her to prison, accusing her of being a witch.
I’ll probably die soon.
Witches were always burned at the stake.
Her long eyelashes trembled as tears filled her eyes.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she covered her face with both hands.
Dying was terrifying.
But at least if she died, she would see her mother again.
And I won’t have to suffer anymore.
That thought comforted Irene, but it also made her sad that this was the only comfort she had.
Like someone who had lost her sanity, she alternated between laughing and crying.
Later
To burn a witch, one needed the holy flame managed by the temple.
Baron Silas had sent a servant to borrow that sacred flame.
The preparations for the execution were finished.
Now they only had to wait for the servant to return with the flame.
However, an unexpected guest had arrived.
Because of that guest, Baron Silas was sweating so much it felt like his back was crying.
He wiped the cold sweat soaking his shirt and even the few remaining strands of hair on his head, then looked at the man sitting across from him.
Karlos Dun Esper.
Having a middle name meant noble birth, and indeed Karlos was the Grand Duke and head of the Esper family, the ruler of the North whom even the imperial family dared not provoke.
It was natural for Baron Silas to feel nervous sitting across from such a powerful figure.
His head bowed automatically.
But he couldn’t help secretly glancing at Karlos’s face.
His appearance was so attractive that it drew attention from anyone, regardless of age or gender.
Jet-black hair like painted darkness, thick brows, amethyst-like purple eyes, a sharp nose, and thin red lips.
Rather than “handsome,” the word beautiful suited him better.
In high society, people said that when God created him, He gave him all the beauty in the world.
But because of his overwhelming presence, no one dared approach him easily.
His purple eyes were another reason.
Purple was often considered the color of monsters.
Rumors circulated that monster blood might run in his veins.
There were even more terrifying rumors:
That anyone who angered him—even a newborn baby—would be cut down instantly.
That he even enjoyed eating human flesh.
But if someone managed to become close to him, their path to power in the capital would be guaranteed.
Baron Silas could not miss such an opportunity.
“What brings you here, Your Grace?”
Whatever Karlos wanted, he was ready to give.
But then—
“I heard a witch has appeared in this village. I want to see that witch.”
Baron Silas widened his eyes in surprise.
Karlos tilted his head slightly.
A hint of irritation appeared in his purple eyes.
“What’s the matter?”
“N-No, nothing at all. I’ll have the witch brought here immediately.”
Baron Silas ordered his servants to bring the witch.
He chuckled inwardly.
Normally witches were burned immediately after discovery.
But he had heard rumors that sometimes nobles used them for entertainment.
Perhaps that was why Karlos wanted to see her.
Strange taste indeed—but it worked in Silas’s favor.
After all, the witch was going to die anyway.
He could use her to gain the Grand Duke’s favor.
After some time—
Knock knock.
“My lord, we’ve brought the witch.”
“Oh! Good! Bring her in!”
Baron Silas jumped to his feet eagerly.
Karlos also shifted his gaze from the window to the door.
Creak—
The door opened.
With shackles and handcuffs, dressed in ragged clothes, Irene was dragged in by the guards.
“This woman is the witch.”
Baron Silas spoke as if presenting merchandise.
But Karlos simply stared silently at Irene.
“Why aren’t you greeting His Grace properly?!”
Embarrassed, Baron Silas scolded Irene.
“!”
Irene lifted her head.
The moment her eyes met Karlos’s, she froze in shock.
A strange chill ran from her toes up her spine.
Her mouth went dry.
Cold sweat filled her palms.
No. I’m scared. I have to run.
Facing something even more terrifying than death, Irene’s face turned pale.
Meanwhile, a satisfied smile spread across Karlos’s lips.
It was only for a brief moment, so no one noticed.
Leaning lazily against the sofa like a well-fed predator, Karlos pointed his chin toward the opposite seat.
“Sit.”
Baron Silas assumed the command was for him and tried to sit.
But immediately—
“Who told you to sit?”
“S-Sorry!”
Startled, the baron jumped back up.
Karlos looked at him with annoyance, then turned to Irene.
“Sit.”
Only then did everyone realize the command was meant for her.
Terrified by the Grand Duke and the stares of everyone in the room, Irene shrank like a turtle pulling its head into its shell.
“I told you to sit.”
It was the third command.
Reluctantly, the guards forced Irene onto the sofa.
Facing the Grand Duke at close distance, Irene clasped her trembling hands and lowered her head.
“What’s your name?”
His voice was calm—not gentle, but not harsh either.
Still too afraid to answer, Irene kept her lips tightly shut like a clam.
“His Grace asked your name! Why aren’t you answering?!”
Baron Silas barked angrily.
Swallowing nervously, Irene finally spoke.
“My name… is Irene.”
“Irene.”
Karlos repeated her name several times as if savoring it.
Then he slowly curled his lips into a smile.
“My name is Karlos Dun Esper. I look forward to working with you.”
It was a smile so beautiful it dazzled—
and yet chilling at the same time.
