ITREF~04

Chapter 04

“Haha! How did I not think of this sooner?”

In the deep night, as countless thoughts and fantasies ripened in her mind, Mariela sat alone in her bedroom, smiling brightly while scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

• A curse that makes one stumble once every hour
• A curse that makes all food and drink inside the ducal castle taste like bird droppings
• A curse that makes blisters erupt all over the body the moment one steps into the castle
• A curse that causes handfuls of hair to fall out every time one visits the ducal estate

“Hm. What else would be useful?”

Perhaps because she had once been the Great Witch Shyloy, the process of devising curses that did not endanger a target’s life—but were more than enough to drive them insane—was rather enjoyable.

“Of course, I can’t actually execute these as they are with my current magical output.”

Mariela clicked her tongue in disappointment.

Since recovering her past life memories, she had been secretly training herself whenever alone, carefully learning to control her mana.

Thanks to that, a mana vessel equivalent to what the world would call a 1st-circle mage had formed within her heart.

A 1st-circle mage was nothing more than a beginner who had just stepped into the world of magic.

Even exhausting all their mana would barely produce a trickle of water or a harmless fire orb meant for pranks on ordinary people.

If she were still Shyloy, she would have screamed that such a thing could hardly even be called a mage.

‘Ah, right… I’m sorry, I’m reflecting, okay?’

But—

‘It is true that 1st-circle mages are basically trash.’

By common sense, even the simplest curse she had written on the paper was far beyond what a 1st-circle mage could manifest.

‘Novels love throwing curses around so casually, but those idiots think it’s easy…’

In reality, curse magic—or word-based magic like incantations—was far more difficult than ordinary spells of the same rank.

It required delicate control of both internal mana and external mana, as well as strong mental focus.

Fortunately, Mariela had flawless control ability.

‘So the only problem is insufficient mana capacity.’

Twisting a strand of her hair in frustration, she let out a sigh.

“No choice. I’ll have to use a workaround.”

There was a herb called Mel Amaror.

Well, “herb” was generous—most people treated it like useless weeds.

It grew anywhere in the mountains and was technically edible, but its bitterness was infamous.

Even rabbits, who survived on grass alone, would struggle against it.

Even starving humans who had gone days without food would find it nearly impossible to swallow.

And yet, this plant hid an astonishing secret.

If a low-level 1st or 2nd-circle mage consumed nothing but this herb for four consecutive days, their internal mana capacity temporarily doubled.

Because of this, it had earned a nickname:

“The mana booster of poor mages!”

Even the former Shyloy had once tried it out of curiosity after hearing rumors—

and nearly burned down the entire surroundings, including the person who gave her the idea, purely out of rage at its taste.

‘Back then I swore I’d never put this in my mouth again…!’

It felt like she had been dropped into a world straight out of a terrible reincarnation novel.

“The reincarnated great witch became a dog.”

Woof. Woof!

Damn it!

The next day, Mariela climbed the back mountain of the ducal estate and gathered a large amount of Mel Amaror.

After spending an entire day mentally preparing herself while indulging in sweet snacks, she began eating nothing but Mel Amaror three meals a day starting the following morning.

Since seasoning or sauces would nullify its effect, she had to eat it raw.

It was so bitter she genuinely wanted to die.

“L-Lady! Why are you suddenly doing this?!”

Naturally, chaos erupted starting with her maid Betty.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? Is this some delayed effect from that carriage accident? Should I call a doctor?”

Her second brother’s teasing concern—half worry, half mockery—followed immediately.

Eventually, Mariela was summoned to the duke’s office right after finishing her meal while holding back tears.

A private meeting with her eldest brother.

“Mariela.”

“Yes, brother.”

“Are you… perhaps feeling unwell somewhere?”

Marcen spoke cautiously.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but…”

“You heard about breakfast, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Betty and Marey were both quite alarmed.”

“I’ll say it again—I’m not insane. I don’t exactly enjoy eating disgusting bitter weeds for no reason.”

She sighed.

“I heard it’s good for dietary management. Supposed to melt away excess fat.”

“…So you’re dieting?”

“Yes, so please don’t worry.”

“Mariela… where exactly would you even have excess fat?”

Marcen still looked unconvinced.

Do I really have to go this far?

Feeling deeply doubtful about her life choices, Mariela pinched her cheek.

“Look at these chubby cheeks.”

“They’re adorable. A bit of fullness suits you.”

“And my soft belly? I’ve been so well-fed thanks to Betty that I feel like I could roll around.”

As she pouted, her brother shook his head firmly.

“No. Absolutely not. I still think you’re too thin. You should gain at least five kilos. No—ten would be better.”

“Eh? Brother, do you want me to become a pig?”

Mariela blinked in disbelief.

Marcen simply smiled and patted her head.

“Even if you gained ten, or more, you’d always be adorable to me. You’re my only little sister.”

Ah—how could anyone be so kind?

‘Then I, your dear sister, must help you deal with those annoying relatives… by eating bitter weeds like this.’

Truthfully, she had wanted to give up the moment she tasted Mel Amaror.

But for a brother like this, she could endure four days of losing her sense of taste.

“I’ll go back to normal meals once I lose a little weight. Don’t worry.”

With renewed determination, though her spirit was already shattered, Mariela left the office.

Day 1 evening.

‘Aaaagh! This is unbearably bitter!’

Day 2 evening.

‘Even breathing feels bitter now…’

Day 3 evening.

‘The guy who discovered this must have been reincarnated too. I’m going to find him and make him suffer more than anyone else!’

Finally, Day 4 evening.

After finishing dinner and returning to her room, Mariela sat cross-legged on the floor.

Circulating her mana once through her body, she immediately felt it—

Her internal mana had indeed doubled compared to four days ago.

“It worked!”

Her violet eyes sparkled with joy.

“Now I can finally cast at least one curse properly.”

‘Just you wait for making me eat that for four days.’

Fueled by resentment, she began preparing a small but horrifying curse.

Meanwhile, it had already been fifteen days since Count Rihito began showing up daily at the Esteban estate.

‘That annoying bastard.’

Marcen had managed to hold him off well enough, but it was only a matter of time before he gave in.

The financial state of the household was dire.

The weight of duty and responsibility pressed heavily on them.

Anyone who had even glanced through the ducal estate’s documents would already feel overwhelmed.

How could a young and inexperienced heir possibly manage such a vast house?

And yet, a distant relative kept insisting he would share the burden as a guardian—if only Marcen would sign the paperwork.

It was tempting.

With time, Marcen might eventually sign out of courtesy.

After all, he was still too young to understand the true value of a noble house in name alone.

Count Rihito arrived again that afternoon at around 2 p.m., as always, to persuade him more persistently.

The moment he entered the estate with his usual imposing presence—

“C-Count Rihito!!”

Suddenly, red blisters erupted across his entire body.

The servant escorting him screamed in panic.

Chaos erupted within the estate.

The physician residing there to treat the former duke’s family was urgently summoned.

“W-We can only diagnose this as an unknown skin eruption…”

“Unknown?! You’re just incompetent!”

Enraged and panicking after seeing his reflection, Rihito lost all composure and shouted at the doctor.

“I’m returning to my estate immediately. My personal physician may know something you don’t.”

“Yes, Uncle. Wishing you a swift recovery.”

Marcen bowed politely, inwardly relieved to be freed—at least temporarily—of the man’s endless pressure.

From her bedroom window, Mariela watched the departing carriage.

A cold smile curled on her lips.

“Hmph. Try all you want.”