SWS CH 19

Chapter 19

From Nikolai.

I have heard that a ceasefire has been declared, Father.
However, a serious incident has occurred within the family. As you likely anticipated, it concerns Docep.

Docep has caused trouble and gotten a woman pregnant.
That woman is a commoner from the village.

Despite the situation, Mother intends to bring her into the family.

I know you must be exhausted from guarding the front lines, but I ask that you return as soon as possible and resolve this matter.

Or grant me authority. I will expel Docep from the family outright—

“Damn it.”

Nikolai irritably tore off the bottom of the parchment.

That last line had been written in a moment of emotional frustration, fueled by the disappointment he had accumulated toward Docep over the years. At times like this, he needed to think rationally. He knew all too well that if his father sensed emotional bias, Nikolai himself could end up being cast out.

“Young Duke, the ink has bled… Shall I prepare new parchment?”

Sir Nilson, his aide, asked from behind.

Only then did Nikolai look closely at the parchment. Though he hadn’t noticed while writing, the handwriting was sloppy, and ink was splattered everywhere.

With a scowl, Nikolai crushed the parchment in his hand.

Nilson promptly laid out fresh parchment in front of him.

“Where is Father now?”

“The Lord has crossed beyond the neutral zone. Though he won the war, negotiations over reparations are still ongoing. At the earliest, he should arrive within a month.”

“A month? That’s too late.”

“There’s no helping it. His Majesty ordered the Lord to retrieve the Heart of Barcolonia…”

Winning the war wasn’t enough.

What mattered was the spoils of victory. Without them, even after beheading thousands of enemies, one could not return.

Still, Nikolai had no intention of quietly watching Docep and that common woman for an entire month.

Grinding his teeth, he picked up the pen again and resumed writing to the Duke.

This time, he did not erase the final line.

***

Meanwhile, far away in the neutral zone where the Duke was still engaged in war—

Between distant mountain ridges stood a sanctuary with its ceiling collapsed, moonlight pouring down inside.

On the altar, where rotting incense candles flickered, sat a silver-haired man, glittering as though dusted with starlight.

He had not slept in days. Pressing a hand to his throbbing head, he asked the subordinate standing before him,

“Any news of Lara?”

His voice echoed through the sanctuary—clear and weighty, like that of a god.

Faced with that sacred voice, the subordinate dropped to one knee.

“We sent a messenger to Lady Halara, but received no reply. We considered sending someone directly, but security has tightened since the lord of the territory is absent due to the war. We were unable to enter the domain.”

The man bowed deeply.

“So… there’s no news of Lara.”

“I apologize, my lord. I will dispatch someone to Bloodymary at once.”

The man known as Johannes—the Lord, the Master of Souls—slowly rose and seized a holy relic from the altar.

A cold, metallic chill ran from his fingertips up his arm.

Then—

Crash!

The relic was hurled onto the stone floor.

It shattered instantly, fragments scattering and flashing in the moonlight.

Johannes’s breathing grew ragged.

“I’m starting to feel concerned.”

He stepped onto the altar and removed his ceremonial robe. Once pure white, it had faded to an ash-gray, like marble dust.

An exposed silver cross hung at his neck. Its surface was cracked and rusted, stained with a faint reddish hue, as though soaked in blood and ash rather than silver.

It was less a symbol of faith than a cursed brand.

The mark of a fallen angel who had betrayed godhood.

“I suppose I must go see Lara myself.”

“My lord! It’s too soon. There are still eyes watching this area. Allow me to investigate further—”

“Enough.”

Johannes tossed the robe at the subordinate.

In the next instant, his sword pierced straight through it—and the man standing behind it collapsed with a groan. Another subordinate rushed forward from the shadows and fell to his knees.

“I find I prefer blood to your voice.”

Johannes smiled faintly, then dragged a pale hand across his strained face.

“You understood me well, I trust. You are my man, after all.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Good.”

Slash.

Something that had once been a head fell to the floor.

Johannes calmly stepped through the blood-soaked stone and disappeared into the darkness.

***

At last, Docep and I were alone.

I didn’t know what to call him, and my mouth felt dry.

“Um…”

Come to think of it, I had never properly addressed him.

“Hey,” “Excuse me,” “You there.”

No wonder I hadn’t known his name.

Docep turned to look at me.

With his hair swept back—unlike usual—his face was fully visible, and my breath caught.

Pale skin.

Deep-set eyes, black pupils that looked like they carried stories of their own.

Even his lips were redder than mine.

Despite a face that looked like it had never known hardship, his body bore countless scars.

No wonder I never thought of him as some pampered noble.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a noble?”

That was the question that bothered me most.

Docep knew who I was. And if he truly was the man I’d spent that night with, there was no way he’d forgotten.

“Was I supposed to?”

He asked.

Same voice. Same tone.

But now that I knew who he was, it felt completely different.

Arrogant.

Docep tightened the strings of his loosened shirt without hesitation. My posture stiffened instinctively.

“You should have told me. At least when you knew I was looking for you.”

I had said it right in front of him.

He could have told me then.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

He countered immediately.

“You told my mother you admired me, yet you didn’t even recognize me.”

So Francesca had already told him.

My face burned.

“That’s because…”

Stay calm.

Explain, don’t argue.

“I injured my head recently. That’s why I don’t remember.”

I reused the excuse I’d given Aunt Michelle.

“When?”

“After I met you. I was bedridden for a while, so I don’t remember exactly when.”

“What exactly did you forget?”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Bits and pieces. But I clearly don’t remember your face. That’s why all this happened.”

“So you remember everything except me?”

“No. I’ve forgotten many things. Including… that night with you.”

I wanted to know what happened that night too.

But even the novel barely covered it.

I sighed and asked the question weighing on me most.

“Are you really planning to live with me?”

[Halara, it’s already decided. Don’t provoke him too much.]

Junel, who had been silenced earlier, perched on Docep’s shoulder and muttered.

I still deserve an explanation.

Docep tilted his head slightly.

“Why are you so sure I’d refuse?”

“Because it’s obvious. We’re not meant to marry.”

“We spent a night together. A deep, intense night.”

That night again!

“You don’t even remember it.”

You were completely blackout drunk!

Even I, the reader, don’t know what happened—how would you?

Docep let out a short laugh and closed his eyes.

“You’re confident about that too.”

Oh no.

“I—I just assumed.”

“Too late.”

He opened his eyes. Black pupils locked onto me.

With each step he took closer, my heart pounded harder.

“Late for what?”

I stammered.

I had no reason to be afraid, yet he felt overwhelming.

Is this really pre-awakening Docep?

In the novel, he was timid and quiet, bullied by his family. Only later did he grow assertive.

But this man didn’t look timid at all.

“It’s a fact that we shared that night.”

“Can we not—”

“I’m the type who takes responsibility.”

“What if I say you don’t have to?”

[If he doesn’t, I’ll rip off his manhood!]

“It’s already too late for that.”

He stepped closer.

So close I had to crane my neck to see his face.

“Anything else to say? About me. Or anything at all.”

The only memories I had were him peeling potatoes and eating the pancakes I made.

As I struggled to think, Docep reached out. His large, warm hand brushed over my hair.

I looked up, startled—and saw a faint smile.

“Then we’ll assume you’re staying here until your memory returns. I want to know exactly what happened that night too.”

“…You really intend to make me your wife for that reason alone?”

“For someone like me? A so-called temptress?”