“What?”
Of course, even Jeril knew she was spouting nonsense. And so did Caron. After all, it had only been two days since she’d asked him to pretend to be her fake lover.
The mouse cornered in desperation had bitten—not the predator’s foot—but her own.
She realized her mistake the moment she spoke and wanted to cry.
Why… why on earth is Cal the Duke of Lefert?
Countless memories flashed through her mind.
…It was a miracle she hadn’t died already.
Now that she thought about it, everything lined up perfectly.
The red eyes, the scent of burnt smoke that always clung to him, the overwhelming power, the occasional flash of madness in his gaze.
Jeril clutched her head.
So much for the “keen senses of the Blue Mage”…
But as her thoughts kept spiraling, other memories rose along with them.
How he saved her life from the hostage-taker.
That hollow look on his face in the Dekia Alley.
The crumpled guardianship renunciation paper.
And the strange night when his pale face broke out in cold sweat…
[He didn’t seem like a bad person. That’s my judgment of you.]
Those were her own words, back on Muriel Hill.
The Cal she knew, and the Caron she’d just learned about, felt like completely different people.
Maybe… he’s not as bad as I thought?
Even if he had deceived her for a month.
While she sorted her thoughts, Caron idly tapped his fingers on the table before speaking.
“You said you have a lover.”
“Ah, well, that’s…”
She tried to come up with some lame excuse, but he cut her off.
“Fine, I’ll believe you.”
“…Huh?”
A stupid sound escaped her lips.
Believe what? They both knew it wasn’t true.
The man looked infuriatingly good with his head tilted lazily, resting on one hand. His crimson eyes narrowed under the drowsy glow of afternoon sunlight.
The faint scent of smoke brushing her nose at this close distance made her pulse skip.
Just as her gaze began to tremble under the strange tension between them, his smooth lips dropped a thunderbolt.
“Bring him to me.”
“Wait, what?”
“One week from now. At the banquet celebrating the Crown Prince and Saintess’s return.”
“Hold on—”
“Bring your ‘lover’ as your partner then. If you do, I’ll back off completely. I’ll swear not to talk to you again or interfere in your affairs.”
“Uh…”
Was that… good? She wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel good.
“But if you’re lying—”
He deliberately paused, making her lean in without realizing it.
“—there will never be sunlight in your remaining days.”
His red lips curved into a crescent.
The devil who’d been smiling sweetly now bared his white teeth in a grin.
Correction—Cal was a bad person.
Right after hearing Caron’s threat, Jeril ran everywhere trying to find a partner.
“…I had managed to find one.”
Had being the key word.
Just a few hours after her prospective partner agreed, this letter arrived:
To Lady Rubian,
I’m sorry. Due to personal reasons, I will not be able to attend the banquet.
That was it.
No explanation, no apology worth the ink.
And it didn’t happen just once.
The second person she asked sent the exact same letter.
To Lady Rubian,
I’m sorry. Due to personal reasons, I will not be able to attend the banquet.
Are you kidding me right now?
The third one wasn’t any different.
To Lady Rubian,
I’m sor—
Jeril hurled the letter across the room and sank into gloom.
“How am I supposed to find a partner now…”
If only Cal—no, the Duke—would stop sabotaging her.
“It’s the knight uncle!”
Jeril was sitting blankly in the clinic when a child suddenly called out.
Ian had just walked in.
It was the first time they’d met since the Sekia Alley incident.
She gave an awkward smile—the kind that said sorry for ghosting you.
“Are you feeling better now?”
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry about last time, I was… distracted.”
“No problem. Were you with that man before? The Duke of Lefert, I mean.”
Ian’s eyes widened.
So much for “Don’t tell anyone my identity.”
He remembered that arrogant man clearly.
That day, a network of illegal teleportation circles had been discovered between the Mekel province and the capital.
The assassins who’d used them hadn’t been much help in the investigation—mainly because the Duke of Lefert had slaughtered them all.
They were still tracking three who had barely escaped, but their trail had gone cold.
“…It would be best if you didn’t get too close to him.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She’d meant it as a sharp retort—who are you to comment on my relationships?—but his surprised reaction made her emerald eyes blink.
Jeril sighed like a tired old sage.
He’s the reason for all my nightmares lately.
That damned “partner” business…
Wait. Isn’t Ian attending the banquet too?
A light bulb flickered on.
“Ian, are you going to the banquet in two days?”
“Yes. I’ll be attending as Viscount Persch.”
“Do you already have a partner?”
“No, I planned to go alone, actually…”
Jeril shot up from her chair.
“Then go with me!”
Ian looked startled for a moment, then smiled faintly.
“It would be an honor—”
“Unfortunately, Viscount Persch will have business that day.”
A low voice interrupted.
Jeril, now practically traumatized by Caron’s sudden appearances, whipped her head around.
There he was—Caron, ducking slightly under the doorway due to his height, polished boots clicking against the floor.
Why does he keep showing up?!
And why was no one stopping him?
Then she noticed the clinic director smiling smugly behind him.
“Cal—uh, Your Grace—just wondering, you’re not, like… a sponsor here, are you?”
“You should call me Cal again. It was fun.”
“Don’t tell me you actually are the sponsor?”
“I am.”
A blank check fluttered between his fingers like a flag of victory.
No wonder all the supplies had been brand new lately!
Jeril stared at it with dead eyes—and then saw it.
[Karma: —1] [Karma: ▒8]
…Her karma score dropped?
“Money really does rule this dirty world…”
She muttered hopelessly, while Caron stepped closer.
“The viscount won’t be attending. Find someone else.”
“I accept Lady Jeril’s offer. It would be my honor,” Ian said quickly.
Jeril tilted her chin and shot Caron a smug grin.
“The viscount will have business that day.”
“I will not.”
“You will.”
“Pardon?”
Jeril, watching them argue, finally burst in.
“Do you have prophetic powers now?”
“I have the power to change prophecies.”
“Ugh, whatever. I’m going with Ian, and unless the sky splits in half, this argument is over!”
It seemed her Caron-induced neurosis had reached a peak.
She ignored the voice behind her muttering, “Splitting the sky might be a bit much, even for me.”
Evening approached. The days were stretching longer—summer was near.
The story’s ending was set in December, so not much time remained.
As that thought sank in, Jeril suddenly froze.
…When the ending comes, Cal will die.
To be exact, the story ended with his death.
She recalled his karma score.
[Karma: ▒8]
The number had to start with a 5 or lower.
The weight of his sins wouldn’t allow anything higher.
He dies?
By suicide.
Before the madness completely consumed him, he would take his own life.
A strange heaviness filled her chest.
Maybe it was because the gap between “Cal” and “Caron” felt too big.
They were the same person—but also not.
Caron’s death in the original novel had felt deserved.
But Cal’s death—the one she knew—felt… wrong.
“Lady Jeril, aren’t you heading home? The patron and the knight already left.”
The clinic director’s voice broke her daze.
Caron had said something urgent came up and left early.
A few hours later, Ian also departed after receiving an emergency message from the knights.
“Right, I should go.”
“Take care.”
Stepping out into the street, Jeril walked toward where her carriage was waiting.
She spotted it just ahead—the Rubian crest gleaming faintly on the door.
That’s when someone stepped in front of her.
“My, such a kind face you have, miss.”
…Oh great. This world has these types too.
Recalling her past life in Korea, Jeril gave him the expression of someone thinking, You bark, I walk.
“Don’t be like that, young lady. Hear me out. I’m from Mekel.”
That caught her attention.
Mekel—the land famous for birthing prophets, the so-called “region loved by the gods.”
At least, until the recent monster calamity.
Of course, the word Mekel alone wasn’t what made her stop.
[Karma: 99]
A faintly glowing panel hovered over the old woman’s head, flickering as if it might go out any second.
“You’ve built up quite a bit of bad karma, young lady. What sin have you been committing, hmm?”
She wasn’t exactly one to talk.
“And you’ve got a little ghost child tagging along beside you, too.”
