ELND Chapter 80

Chapter 80

 Welcome to My Den

News spread that the “Watcher of the Blasphemous Lovers,” High Priest Diart, had arrived in the Grand Duchy of Twins.

It came about four days after the Pope’s letter had reached us.

Soon after, word passed from the House of Light to the House of Darkness that his carriage had crossed the duchy’s gates.

It took about two hours to travel from the duchy’s entrance to Twins Castle.

Though there was still plenty of time before Diart’s arrival, I decided to head to the House of Light early—
to see the Twins family in a relaxed state.

Or rather, to see Bianca.

‘Because right now, I want to avoid catching Cedric’s attention as much as possible.’

Just recalling the last four days of torment sent shivers down my spine.

It was all because Cedric hadn’t left my side for even a moment.

He appeared constantly in the House of Darkness—at any time of day or night—and even when I went for short walks or headed to the chapel, he would suddenly show up.

He claimed he needed to “fill his quota” before the High Priest arrived.

‘I need to slip quietly to Bianca’s quarters. If he sees me again today, I’ll never get proper time with her.’

I hurried through the lobby of the House of Light.

The head butler’s face brightened immediately when he saw me.

“Your Grace! You’ve arrived already—”

“Shh!”

“Eh? Ah, yes… shh.”

Though puzzled, the butler obediently lowered his voice to match mine.

“Head Butler, please don’t tell His Grace the Grand Duke I’m here. I want to spend some time alone with Lady Bianca.”

“Ah… what deep meaning behind those words…”

Needless emotion welled in his eyes, and with a solemn nod, he gestured to the servants to keep quiet.

“You can rely on me, Your Grace. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

He looked as though he’d been entrusted with a sacred mission.

I forced an awkward smile and climbed the grand staircase.

When I reached Bianca’s chambers, a sweet, cheerful voice greeted me, as always.

“Your Grace!”

Bianca ran straight into my arms as if we’d arranged it beforehand.

I lifted her up, and she wrapped her little arms around my neck.

“I didn’t know you were coming today, but that makes me even happier!”

Her black hair was dotted with small curlers—she must’ve been getting ready.

I gently stroked her soft, round cheeks.

“My sweet Bianca, were you preparing to welcome guests?”

Bianca blinked, as though remembering something.

“Oh! You came because you heard the news, right?”

“The news?”

She tilted her head.

“About High Priest Diart’s arrival—didn’t you come because of that?”

“He’s here already?”

I asked, startled, and Bianca nodded several times.

“That’s strange. I was told his carriage just passed the duchy gates not long ago…”

“There was a delay because one of the messenger birds got lost,” she explained with a pout.

“So I just started getting ready, and I haven’t even welcomed him yet…”

Her nanny, smiling kindly, lifted Bianca from my arms.

“It seems His Grace assumed the Duchess’s residence would be in the same situation, so he told no one to rush. He probably thought you could prepare at your own pace.”

“I see…”

“Yes, and His Grace is currently meeting privately with the High Priest. He said Lady Bianca should only attend dinner later—with Your Grace.”

That explained it. Normally, no matter how quietly I slipped through the House of Light, Cedric would have found me within minutes.

The fact that he hadn’t yet appeared could only mean one thing.

‘He’s already meeting with Diart.’

What kind of conversation would those two enemies be having right now?

I could easily imagine Cedric’s stiff, restrained expression as he tried to stay polite.

‘Poor Cedric… but at least it gives me time with Bianca.’

Bianca must’ve been thinking the same thing.

She wriggled free from her nanny’s arms and hugged my skirt.

“Let’s spend all our time together until dinner! I’ll get ready super fast, okay, Your Grace?”

“Haha, alright. Can I stay here and watch you get ready, then?”

“Of course!”

Her face shone with a bright, sunlit smile.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the Grand Duke’s reception room was nothing like the warmth of the nursery.

Cedric and High Priest Diart sat across from each other.

Between them lay a tea table, cups—and a thick, heavy silence.

“The northern weather is far harsher than I expected,” Diart ventured.

“Well, yes. You could say that.”

After that brief exchange, silence returned as though by mutual agreement.

Though Diart had come all the way north to keep watch over the “Blasphemous Lovers,” at that moment he wished Duchess Rebecca were present too.

Being alone with Cedric was that uncomfortable.

Cedric himself, however, looked utterly unbothered—emotionless, composed.

Of course, it wasn’t that he considered Diart a friend.

‘If anything, he’s just ignoring me.’

The thought made Diart bristle with irritation… and a twinge of envy.

That effortless composure—it wasn’t something one could imitate.

It was the kind of dominance that only true predators, those born superior to all others, could naturally possess.

Perhaps that was why just being near Cedric stoked Diart’s inferiority complex.

Every time he looked at the man, it gnawed deeper.

And the more aware he became of it, the worse it grew.

“The priests here must have a hard time,” Diart said stiffly. “It’s a cold, isolated land—and with the Demon Realm so close… ah, I mean the work of guiding people who fear it must be difficult.”

He always resorted to such subtle provocations, using his status as a high priest like a shield.

No matter how strong or intelligent Cedric might be, divine favor—he reminded himself—belonged only to men like Diart.

‘How childish I must seem,’ he thought bitterly.

He regretted it every time, but whenever Cedric smiled that infuriatingly calm smile, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Those ‘great priests’ of yours,” Cedric replied lazily, “seem more interested in using God’s name to rob peasants and hoard demonic trinkets.”

“Your Grace!” Diart snapped, scandalized.

Cedric didn’t even flinch.

From somewhere among the servants came a faint snicker.

‘Tch.’

When Diart turned sharply toward them, their faces were once again perfectly composed.

‘How dare these half-breeds—these demons—mock the High Priest of the Empire!’

His anger flared to the crown of his head.

But no—he reminded himself—he hadn’t come here to spar with mixed-blood servants.

He was here to monitor the relationship between Cedric Twins and Rebecca Twins.

The servants might not know, but Cedric surely did.

And he needed to remind the Grand Duke of one important fact—

that as the Pope’s representative, his own rank temporarily outranked even Cedric’s.

“Ahem.”

He cleared his throat, affecting dignity, and spoke with deliberate hauteur.

“Your Grace does remember, I trust, that I am here as the Pope’s official envoy?”

Diart raised his gaze, expecting to see discomfort or respect.

But Cedric looked as serene as ever.

“Of course I know. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be wasting my time entertaining you alone.”

Too reasonable to argue with—and all the more infuriating for it.

But oddly, that reminder of his papal authority revived Diart’s confidence.

“I’m glad to hear that. I feared you might’ve forgotten, since you’ve treated me as though I were some sort of jester.”

“…What are you implying? That I made you a laughingstock?”

At last, Cedric’s brow furrowed slightly.

Diart felt he’d finally gained the upper hand—

until Cedric’s next words sliced through the air.

“No. You made yourself the fool. I merely laughed along.”

He even smiled pleasantly as he said it, adding, almost kindly, “I was trying to be a good host.”

Diart’s face flushed.

How many times had this man made him feel like an idiot since he’d arrived?

He could hear the muffled snickers again—real or imagined, it didn’t matter.

‘If I say anything else, he’ll just twist my words again. This time, I’ll strike where it hurts.’

He licked his dry lips and spoke with forced composure.

“As the Pope’s envoy, I must relay His Holiness’s concern for the Grand Duke and Duchess. Especially regarding Your Grace’s suffering under Her Grace’s… violent temperament.”

Half-truth, half-lie.

The Pope had once worried about their troubled marriage—but that was before he learned they’d divorced.

Still, Diart decided to continue maligning Rebecca, just to test Cedric’s reaction.

The servants might overhear, but that didn’t matter.

Everyone knew the Twins retainers adored Cedric but despised Rebecca.

Surely, no one would object.

“The Duchess’s temperament, you say? What exactly are you talking about?”

The moment Rebecca’s name was mentioned, Cedric’s expression turned glacial.

Just as Diart expected.

‘But… what is this feeling?’

An eerie pressure filled the air.

The servants who’d been quietly standing by now glared at Diart, eyes sharp as blades.

It felt as though he were a small, trembling creature surrounded by predators.

Cold sweat trickled down his spine.

Then a low voice rumbled through the room.

“High Priest Diart.”

Cedric’s lips curved upward.

Though Diart had never met the Demon King himself, he imagined his smile would look exactly like that.

“Welcome,” Cedric said softly, “to my castle. You walked in on your own two feet.”

…Dear God.

Only then did Diart truly understand—

he had stepped willingly into the tiger’s den.