She pushed the creaking wooden door open with her shoulder and stepped outside, feeling the bitter cold cut through her like a knife. The wind howled through the streets, sounding almost like the cries of a wild beast.

The narrow, rubbish-strewn alleys of the slums had turned into a filthy quagmire of melting snow and garbage.

Icy slush seeped through the worn soles of her shoes.

Not far away, several beggars huddled around a small bonfire, stretching their hands towards the flames in search of warmth. For a moment, Lianna felt an overwhelming urge to sit beside them and warm her frozen feet.

‘If I don’t hurry, I might be late for my appointment with the Countess.’

The Countess of Chester held Lianna in high regard for her sewing skills and often entrusted her with mending garments.

Aware that Lianna was the sole carer for a sick younger sibling, the Countess tried to lighten her workload.

Without the Countess’s assistance, Lianna would not have been able to afford her sibling’s medication. She was always deeply grateful for this.

Today, however, the castle seemed unusually busy.

The moment she stepped through the gates, the rich scent of roasting meat wafted towards her.

In the middle of the courtyard, a broad-shouldered cook stood before a blazing fire, slowly roasting a pig on a spit. A plump pig, fattened over the summer, was skewered on a massive spit, its grease dripping steadily over the flames as it turned.

Her empty stomach, filled only with a thin bowl of soup that day, growled loudly.

Most of her earnings went towards medicine for her sibling, and the remainder barely covered the rent, so hunger was nothing new to her.

The crackling sound of the pig fat dripping into the fire and sending sparks scattering into the air sounded unbearably tempting.

The cook glanced sideways at Lianna, who was standing rooted to the spot against her will.

Although she was a commoner who frequented the Count’s castle and dressed poorly, there was nothing ordinary about her appearance.

Her silver hair shimmered like melted moonlight, and her languid violet eyes held a strangely mesmerizing allure.

The cook’s gaze darkened unconsciously.

“Are you expecting some special guests today?”

At that moment, Lianna spoke with a bright, friendly smile.

The cook awkwardly cleared his throat, forcibly pushing away the inappropriate thoughts that had surfaced in his mind. Turning the spit-roasted pig over the fire, he answered,

“Special? More than special! This feast is for the brave heroes who drove back those savages.”

The Kingdom of Gloucester shared its borders with the Ankerta tribe, and skirmishes both large and small were constant along the frontier.

Lianna vaguely remembered hearing that a major battle had recently broken out near the borderlands.

“Heroes, you say…?”

“Who else would they be but Grand Duke Einbert and his army?”

The Grand Duke of Einbert was Prince Calix, the second son of King Philip.

Even Lianna, a commoner, had heard of him. He had fought on countless battlefields since his teenage years, building a reputation as an extraordinary warrior.

There was hardly anyone in Gloucester who did not know his name.

People even joked that someone might not know the king’s name, yet still know that of the Grand Duke of Einbert.

“His Grace will soon arrive here in Chester with his army. The Count ordered us to sl*ughter the fattest livestock so that no expense would be spared in welcoming him properly.”

Only then did Lianna understand why the atmosphere in the castle had felt so strange that day.

Breathing warm air into her frozen hands, she hurried on.

The Countess’s chambers were located on the top floor of the main castle. As she climbed the winding staircase, she could hear the loud shouts of soldiers echoing through the halls.

A moment later, the heavy groan of a massive wooden gate being lowered thundered through the air.

The sound came from the castle entrance.

Just as the cook had said… Had the Grand Duke’s army finally arrived?

Lianna turned towards the window.

From her vantage point in the tower, she could see that a large crowd had already gathered before the castle gates.

Count Chester stood at the entrance with his attendants; the cold had turned his hooked nose bright red. Beside him stood the Countess, her long hair elegantly pinned up beneath a thick, fur-lined cloak.

At that moment, the army procession crossed the drawbridge.

Lianna watched knights clad in gleaming silver armor ride in behind a man seated on a horse.

“Welcome, Your Grace. I, Henry Chester, am deeply honored to receive you in person.”

The Count bowed towards the man at the front.

The Countess lowered herself gracefully in greeting, too.

The armored man held the reins loosely as he looked down at the Count and Countess from his horse.

The black-haired man with golden eyes exuded an innate sense of authority.

“It’s been a long time, Count Chester.”

The man spoke without even dismounting.

He gave the Countess a slight nod in greeting.

‘So that man is…’

From what Lianna had heard, the Grand Duke of Einbert was said to be unparalleled in his warrior skills.

The man before her embodied those rumors perfectly.

His broad shoulders and sharp, rugged features spoke of strength. Yet there was nothing crude about his appearance.

In fact, he was strikingly handsome, as though his features had been carefully sculpted by an artist’s delicate touch.

Looking down at the Count and Countess with cool indifference in his golden eyes, the Grand Duke of Einbert finally spoke.

“Count Chester. My army is exhausted after the long march.”

At the Grand Duke’s attitude—as though needless formalities were beneath his concern—the Count forced an almost servile smile onto his face as he replied.

“A banquet has already been prepared, so please, Your Grace, come this way.”

Instead of answering, the Grand Duke merely nodded faintly and flicked the reins. His army followed him without hesitation.

Stories of the Grand Duke’s prowess were well known throughout the kingdom. It was said that if his sword ever shattered in battle, he would break a barbarian’s neck with his bare hands.

The knights who had fought alongside him on countless battlefields were said to be every bit as brutal and formidable as their commander.

How long would the Grand Duke remain at Chester Castle?

For some reason, Lianna felt uneasy at the thought of so many soldiers being stationed within the castle grounds.

Perhaps it was because she had not yet forgotten the day a wandering mercenary had almost dragged her into something horrific.

‘I hope he doesn’t stay long…’

Keeping this in mind, Lianna continued on her way.

As the Countess had gone out to welcome the Grand Duke in person, her head maid gave Lianna the sewing materials instead.

Lianna gathered the basket of fabric into her arms.

Then, leaving the castle behind, she hurried on her way.

***

The room that the Count had prepared for the Grand Duke of Einbert was extravagant to say the least.

In fact, it was far grander and more luxurious than his own room.

Expensive imported porcelain displayed flowers in full bloom despite the harshness of winter, and the walls were adorned with famous paintings by renowned artists — works so renowned that even Calix, who had spent most of his life on battlefields and had little interest in art, could recognize their value at a glance.

Most of Chester’s territory was barren mountain land with no notable features.

The estate could not have been particularly prosperous, yet it was clear that no expense had been spared in preparing to welcome the Grand Duke.

“The effort is admirable, at least.”

Sitting back on the couch, Calix let out a faint, amused scoff.

Even after removing his armor, his broad shoulders and heavily muscled frame carried an overwhelming presence.

“Count Chester seems to want quite a lot from me.”

Crossing his long legs, he brushed a hand through his hair as though weary.

Beside him, his adjutant Guildford, a man with reddish-brown hair, shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, Your Grace, it’s hardly just one Count trying to curry favor with you.”

Though Guildford spoke casually, there was an unmistakable air of contempt in his tone towards the opportunistic nobles who flocked to power whenever it suited them. It was clear that they had witnessed such behavior before.

Before Calix earned the king’s acknowledgement through his battlefield achievements, not a single noble had ever bowed to the second prince, born to a concubine.

Some had even attempted to assassinate him to win the Crown Prince’s favor.

Of course, the Grand Duke had personally dispatched those fools to their graves.

Now that Calix had proven himself superior to the Crown Prince in almost every way, these troublesome attempts had all but disappeared.

The nobility were opportunistic by nature, but they were also careful not to back a loser.

Calix pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the table with a dull thud.

Dark markings spread across the back of his hand, covering it completely.

‘This has become troublesome.’

Even on the journey to Chester Castle, the curse had continued spreading through his body by the hour.

The condition was severe enough that an ordinary person would have collapsed long ago.

“Your Grace… are you truly all right?”

The curse was using the Grand Duke’s body as its host, slowly devouring him from within.

Guildford could not even begin to imagine the agony it caused.

“I can still endure it for now. So stop looking at me like I’m a dying patient.”

“This is hardly the time to act relaxed, Your Grace. The curse is progressing faster and faster. If it isn’t broken soon, something truly terrible will happen.”

“I know. But will panicking change anything?”

The Grand Duke let out a faint laugh as he poured himself whiskey and raised the glass to his lips.

His golden eyes reflected coldly against the surface of the liquor.

“If I can’t even withstand a mere curse like this, then I was only worth this much to begin with.”

He set the empty glass down on the table with a sharp clack and leaned back.

“Don’t you find yourself wondering which will happen first? Whether the curse devours me… or whether I find the cure before that?”

“…Your Grace, this is not some game. Your life is at stake.”

The curse first manifested itself a month ago.

This happened shortly after the kingdom’s army had finally driven back the barbarians after a long and brutal war.

Before they could celebrate their hard-won victory properly, disaster struck instead.

There was no concrete proof, but it was obvious who was behind it.

After secretly summoning a mage from the Magic Tower to examine the curse, they discovered that there was only one way to break it, to borrow the power of a special race.

‘But where in the world are we supposed to find a descendant of the fairy race?’

It was said that fairies born under the pure light of the moon had the power to purify all corruption and darkness.

Their descendants inherited this power, and simply coming into contact with them was enough to lift the curse.

Yet despite all their efforts, not even the faintest trace of those descendants had been found.

Guildford had remained by his lord’s side for many years, but he had never felt so helpless.

Fighting down the rising wave of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him, he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“There will be another banquet tomorrow. Will you attend?”

“I suppose I should at least show my face. Ignoring their hospitality entirely would be discourteous.”

Calix answered as though the matter were bothersome, idly swirling the liquor in his glass.

Whoever had placed the curse on him had undoubtedly planted spies in the castle.

They would want reports that the Grand Duke had become bedridden and was merely waiting to die as a result of the curse.

‘As if he would give them that satisfaction.’

He had survived this long by trampling underfoot everyone who had wished for his death.

Did they really think that a mere curse would be enough to bring him down?

Calix tightened his grip on the whisky glass.

Though he had not used much strength, cracks spread across the sturdy glass.

At the very least, during his stay in this insignificant borderland castle—

‘I won’t be bored.’