Chapter 3

Beatrice gazed up at the soaring spires, estimating the time that had passed. It had already been half a year since her last visit.

Seeing the Schwert ducal residence again after half a year felt, well, a little unfamiliar.

…She used to live here as a child.

Since her master, Lawrence von Bruyere, was a retainer of the Schwert Grand Ducal House, Beatrice had also received the house’s patronage.

After being saved from the <Mud Crocodile>, she spent her childhood here, training in sorcery under her master’s guidance.

That was a long time ago.

A very long time ago. 

With that simple summary, Beatrice blinked once. That simple motion erased the distant past and brought reality back.

…Reminiscing about the past is truly pointless.

Beatrice smiled bitterly and approached the main gate. The gatekeepers, recognizing her, hurriedly bowed in salute.

It was convenient not to have to introduce herself.

Beatrice stood tall, watching as the heavy iron gates clanked open.

The Schwert ducal residence was a fortress.

Layer upon layer of walls, five iron gates guarding the innermost mansion. If any fool dared to invade, they wouldn’t even get through two of the five gates before dying.

Eventually, all the gates opened.

Beatrice, watching with an indifferent face, slowly stepped inside. Breathing in the uniquely strict air of Schwert, she mulled over a slightly crooked thought.

Once, she couldn’t even enter past the fourth gate, but now she could pass through every gate—she’d made it, she’d succeeded, she was impressive, she thought rebelliously.

It was a thought she couldn’t help but recall every time she came here.

Entering the drawing room, dark blue eyes stared at her as if piercing through her. Beatrice paused, frowning.

It was definitely that person who called her here.

She hadn’t said she would visit. Strictly speaking, the one with business should come to her, not the other way around, she thought belatedly.

“What is it?”

At her blunt question, Erich narrowed his eyes.

“Isn’t that my question?”

“I’m not in the mood for a quarrel, Schwert. I hate riddles. You answer first.”

“Your pocket.”

Only then did Beatrice remember there was a monster in her pocket. The gray rabbit whimpered sadly inside.

Seeing Erich’s brow furrow even more, Beatrice scratched her cheek.

Bringing a monster all the way here was definitely her mistake. She watched Erich’s mood with an embarrassed face.

The Grand Duke, seated on the settee, honestly looked not just comfortable but lazy.

He wore a bored expression, as if nothing happening before him mattered at all. Calm to the point of leisure.

He didn’t look angry.

Beatrice silently moved and sat in the chair opposite Erich. His dark blue eyes scrutinized her every movement obsessively.

“So… I, uh, found something unusual.”

The moment she took the rabbit out of her pocket and set it on the table—

A dagger flashed like lightning. The murderous intent toward the monster was fierce and fast. It closed the distance in the blink of an eye.

With the mad speed of the attack, Beatrice barely managed to complete a defensive barrier to protect the rabbit.

Clang!

The sound of metal striking the barrier.

Spiritual power collided and sparked. The dagger grew sharper, the barrier shone more intensely.

Sensing the tense standoff, the rabbit’s ears twitched atop the table.

“You, right now in front of me…”

The man’s voice was spat out as if chewing his words. Every syllable was packed with anger.

“Protecting a monster? Have you finally lost it, Beatrice Winter?”

Well. He was really angry.

Beatrice admitted her misjudgment.

“Schwert, cool your head and think. It’s a rabbit.”

“I can see that without cooling my head.”

“There’s never been a monster based on a rabbit. This one’s a mutant.”

“So. Are you claiming it’s not a monster species?”

“I’m claiming it’s worth keeping alive for research because it’s a mutant.”

Sparks flew again between the dagger and the barrier. Erich infused more spiritual power into the tip of his dagger.

Attempting to respond with more power, Beatrice flinched as a new intruder appeared atop the table.

A pure white cat.

The white cat approached, looking at the gray rabbit with curious eyes. The proud animal seemed more interested in the softly crying monster than the humans fighting fiercely.

The cat came right up to the rabbit, flicked its tongue, and licked the gray fur. Watching the animal’s grooming, Beatrice was quite flustered.

Erich, too, seemed surprised, as his grip on the dagger loosened.

“Louis.”

Regardless of the owner’s reproach, the cat purred contentedly, licking the rabbit. Sighing at his disobedient pet, Erich pressed his brow.

“It’s my research subject. Don’t hurt it.”

Beatrice preemptively asserted.

“If it bites off your finger?”

“I’ll regret not listening to you, but that’s future-me’s problem. For now, I’d appreciate it if you explained why you called me.”

“…”

“Why did you call me?”

Erich began spinning the dagger around his finger. Beatrice belatedly noticed his hand movements seemed a bit unnatural.

‘Something’s off…’

Come to think of it, even the earlier standoff felt odd.

Had Erich von Schwert truly meant it, she wouldn’t have been able to save the rabbit. Due to his physical prowess, his attack speed was more than three times hers.

Chewing over these bothersome clues, Beatrice tilted her head.

“You, by any chance…”

“Is there a spell that makes a name appear on skin?”

“Hm?”

“If there is, what kinds are there?”

After a brief silence, Beatrice slowly recited her answer.

“There are three types of spells that make a name appear on skin. That I know of.”

“…”

“First, tracking spell. It’s a spell used to track murderers, making the victim’s name appear on the perpetrator’s skin.”

“That doesn’t seem to be it.”

Beatrice shrugged and moved on to the second answer.

“Second is puppet control spell. If a puppeteer engraves a puppet’s name on their skin, the bond deepens. Stronger control is possible. But that’s only if the puppeteer engraves the name directly.”

“That’s not it either.”

Beatrice shifted uncomfortably.

As the pieces of reality fit together, it became clear why Erich had called her and why he asked such questions.

The person whose skin suddenly bore a name… seemed not even worth questioning.

“Last is black sorcery. That is, a curse. A powerful ancient spell of unknown origin, which I call the ‘Name’ curse.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a spell meant to paralyze the entire body of the cursed. If the curse isn’t stopped, the person dies from heart or lung failure.”

Beatrice paused and watched him closely. Erich von Schwert’s expression showed not a hint of agitation.

“To stop its progress, you must either perfectly remove the spell, or else, with the owner of the name appearing on the skin…”

“With the owner?”

“Have *ntercourse.”

Beatrice whispered the last word as plainly as possible.

“That’s it.”

At such a blunt solution, Erich merely raised an eyebrow. His expression was filled with subtle annoyance, not embarrassment.

He was as composed as ever.

Beatrice looked down at the two animals on the table.

“The one cursed with the ‘Name’ spell. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Erich’s hand movements were unnatural.

His attack on the monster was unusually slow.

“Yes.”

“When did it happen?”

“I discovered the name ten days ago.”

Enough time for the curse to progress meaningfully.

Beatrice bit her lip and slowly lifted her gaze. The man sitting across from her trapped her with cold, stern eyes.

“The Ivory Tower has a proper duty to protect Schwert’s warriors from black sorcery. And it failed. As Tower Master, you must take responsibility, Beatrice Winter.”

“…Of course. I’ll take responsibility and remove it.”

The Ivory Tower’s failure was her own shortcoming. Shame surged, but Beatrice endured as best she could.

“In case the removal is delayed, may I ask one question? I’ll prepare the spell as quickly as possible, but you know accidents happen.”

“Go ahead.”

“So. Whose ‘Name’ do you have?”

To stop the curse’s progress, Erich had to have *ntercourse with that person. Beatrice had to ensure the process happened.

Beatrice tried hard to think about how to persuade the ‘owner of the name’. Then suddenly, very suddenly, she shuddered.

An ominous feeling ran down her spine.

Raising her eyes with disbelief, she saw Erich von Schwert smiling crookedly. His gaze was fixed precisely on her.

The neat red lips curled in a smile were terrifying. 

No way. No way. 

Beatrice’s heart shook violently again.

Erich raised his hand,

And pointed exactly at her.

“You.”