Chapter 242

Chapter 242
Chapter 242: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

“Mm…”

Freya, with both hands raised high into the air, scanned the mansion.

The mood in the air felt slightly strange.

It carried a blend of listlessness and underlying tension.

Slowly lowering her arms, Freya cast a cautious glance about the vicinity.

‘Could Master be injured…?’

…While that seemed entirely possible, it felt distinct from the specific atmosphere she currently perceived.

And then…

*Perk.*

Freya concentrated every ounce of her awareness through her pointed ears.

“The Young Master has finally woken up, hasn’t he?”

“Judging by the Family Head heading straight into the recovery room, I’d say yes.”

“What a relief! I was worried he had taken ill again…”

“Actually, I heard rumors it might be related to his mana pool.”

“Huh? Someone told me it was just seasickness.”

Judging by the chatter, it appeared Master had indeed been unwell.

Even so, everyone seemed comforted simply knowing he had regained consciousness.

If that was the case, what accounted for the heavy tension?

At that exact moment.

The salamander, perched proudly atop Freya’s dust-covered hat, suddenly cowered and scurried down into its owner’s embrace with a soft rustle.

“Salamander?”

Freya stared down at the creature with a puzzled frown.

Oddly enough, even when frightened, it rarely hid with such intensity.

This warranted a personal investigation.

“You—you said he was definitely in the recovery room…”

Dropping the bulky burden she had been carrying onto the corridor floor, Freya crept stealthily toward the recovery room.

As she moved down the long hallway, the growing density of the tension forced her to halt abruptly.

The reality of the situation suddenly clicked.

This went far beyond mere tension.

“Th-this…!”

An oppressive presence hung in the air, defying simple description.

She had encountered something vaguely comparable before, though the circumstances differed.

It recalled the time Elvia abducted her and she awoke in Asteri’s basement.

Yet this particular energy felt entirely distinct.

It was a sensation she had never experienced anywhere within the mansion’s walls.

An unprecedented surge of power!

*Gulp.*

Freya swallowed hard against a sudden dryness in her throat.

‘One of the servants mentioned his mana pool earlier…’

A mana pool expansion typically signified the monumental growth spurt mages underwent when shattering their limits to enter a higher realm.

If so, this formidable energy undoubtedly belonged to Master.

‘Wh-what on earth transpired while I was away?’

Panic gripped Freya.

She could barely process the phenomenon.

In truth, she might not even survive stepping through the door of the recovery room.

It brought to mind the mythical dragons chronicled in fairy tales from the Elf Country.

A primal, instinctual blend of awe and dread squeezed her chest.

“Hoo, hoooo…!”

No. Even so, nobody was kinder or more affectionate than Master.

Regardless of how overwhelming his energy might be, it didn’t change his identity as her beloved Master!

‘A-and considering his remarkable abilities, exuding this level of power is only natural…’

Steeling her resolve, Freya clenched her fist, preparing to knock on the recovery room door.

Right at that instant.

“Little one.”

“Eek!”

Startled by the voice directly behind her, Freya leaped and plastered herself flat against the wall.

“Still just as much of a scaredy-cat, aren’t you?”

Elvia smirked as she observed Freya’s startled reaction.

‘Has she grown at all?’

Before leaving the estate, the child had barely reached the height of a walking staff…

“Well, you’ve managed to grow taller than a staff at least.”

“I was always taller than a staff!”

“Oh? You’ve even learned to raise your voice.”

So the fear was wearing off?

At Elvia’s remark, color drained from Freya’s face.

Despite her brief retort, Elvia remained one of the most terrifying figures in Freya’s world.

“B-but why are you here…”

“Didn’t I mention it last time? Speak clearly when you address someone.”

Before Freya could pout and fire back a response, Elvia pressed on.

“If you’re here to see the Young Master, at least tidy up your appearance first.”

“What?”

“If you’re heading into the recovery room, you should know the Young Master isn’t in top shape. That disheveled look won’t do.”

“Ah…!”

Only then did Freya look down at herself.

She hadn’t given it a thought, but the witch was entirely correct.

Besides, even if Master were in perfect health, presenting herself in such a state was unthinkable.

It showed terrible manners!

“If you understand, hurry along back.”

Faced with Elvia’s stern command, Freya turned away dejectedly without offering a reply.

“You wouldn’t be able to endure stepping inside right now anyway.”

Elvia muttered softly to herself as she watched the short, stubby half-elf trudge away.

The half-elf child would likely have fainted the moment she crossed the threshold of the sickroom.

‘Though Petrick and I are currently keeping it contained.’

The dragon’s aura radiating from the puppy’s body possessed astonishing potency.

Since it seemed to be gradually subsiding, it would probably fade naturally given enough time…

‘No sense in making her pass out for no reason.’

Admittedly, watching that happen might have provided some amusement, but let’s chalk it up to a welcome-home treat.

Besides, plenty of entertaining chaos was already unfolding inside the room.

‘I might as well head in and enjoy the show.’

Elvia chuckled quietly as she pictured Petrick’s earlier speechless expression, then pushed open the recovery room door.

Lively, boisterous sounds spilled out through the narrow opening.

“Grrr!”

“Squeak! Squeak!”

Pus growled fiercely with bristled fur directed toward the window, while Nature flapped its wings as though preparing to dive into battle.

“They’re saying they will gladly accept you as their subordinate if you agree.”

And somewhere amidst the commotion sat a puppy casually conversing with the soul of a dragon.

-Me, a subordinate? That is completely absurd!

“Haaa…”

Finally, the weary sigh of Petrick, who had permitted all these absurdities yet could not bear to abandon his beloved grandson to the chaos.

Though the room housed more non-human occupants than humans, it somehow radiated the cozy warmth of a traditional human dwelling.

‘Life truly surprises you when you live long enough to witness days like this.’

Suppressing a laugh with considerable effort, Elvia closed the recovery room door behind her.

—

Meanwhile, the Second Prince, having thoroughly reviewed the reports delivered by Rikschel and the Marquis of Byrdantis, allowed a cold smirk to touch the corner of his mouth.

“There were witnesses to the murder, yet no body could be found.”

Fascinating.

The Second Prince’s eyes gleamed with icy detachment as he spoke.

“That is correct.”

.

The affair had originated as a seemingly ordinary disappearance case within the Imperial Palace.

Labeling a disappearance within the palace as ordinary was absurd in its own right, given that people frequently vanished and were buried quietly behind the scenes.

Initially, the Marquis of Byrdantis and Rikschel had merely intended to exploit the incident to account for the brief absence of the Second Prince and Lion.

Yet this particular case defied normalcy.

In fact, it bordered on the bizarre.

As noted previously, multiple individuals had witnessed the scene of the crime.

‘Or rather, the suspicious circumstances surrounding it.’

Rikschel mentally reviewed the compiled and submitted report.

The two had resolved to investigate the most recent palace disappearance and set their plan into motion immediately.

As fate would have it, the missing person was a maid recently handpicked by the Empress.

It provided just the right amount of commotion for the Imperial Palace grounds.

While gathering evidence during the probe, an elderly servant stepped forward with testimony.

‘Or rather, he was persuaded to testify.’

Wealth and influence.

Very few things lay beyond the reach of capital, power, and physical leverage, and Rikschel showed no hesitation in applying them when necessary.

Though he had softened somewhat thanks to his older brother’s recent influence, Rikschel remained the designated successor destined to lead Asteri.

The servant’s account was specific.

He had witnessed a maid being murdered.

More precisely, he had tailed someone suspected of serving the Empress and subsequently lost sight of the victim entirely.

-Disappearing permanently for loose talk is nothing new in the Imperial Palace, so my original intent was merely to recover the unfortunate girl’s remains…

-A lie.

-I—I apologize. The truth is, recovering the bodies of these missing maids allows us to collect a small token of gratitude from their grieving families…

Rikschel flicked through the mental pages of the report.

Those details were ultimately irrelevant.

The servant’s final interrogation point held the true key to the mystery.

-However… there wasn’t a single trace left behind.

-Normally, a disappearance within the Imperial Palace leaves at least minimal bloodstains or signs of a struggle. At the very least, the surrounding turf should be disturbed.

-I am the specialist who clears away those very traces and disposes of the remains.

-Yet this time, there was no body and no evidence whatsoever. They simply vanished into thin air.

-Every single recent missing person case shares this exact pattern.

-Doesn’t that strike you as deeply unnatural?

Every recent missing person case.

“Are you implying these disappearances began right around the time I claimed the title of Prince?”

“Yes.”

“Hah.”

The Second Prince offered a chilling sneer.

“Now I begin to see the exact method my foolish older brother employed to plague me.”

“A plague, or perhaps a curse?”

The Marquis of Byrdantis, who had remained silent up to that moment, spoke in a measured tone.

“If we are dealing with a curse, the investment doesn’t align with the output.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Rikschel’s prompt drew a deliberate nod from the Marquis.

Naturally, none of those present needed a reminder of past events within the Byrdentis household.

Regardless, the specifics no longer mattered.

Thanks to Petrick Asteri’s thoughtful intervention, the relevant information would have surfaced publicly once the ordeal concluded.

“A curse of that magnitude demands a substantial sacrifice of blood and flesh. Yet if it were merely a curse born of spite, a handful of human lives and beast carcasses should have sufficed.”

Put simply, the actual return fell far short of the required payment.

“…”

The Second Prince furrowed his brow for a fraction of a second before conceding the point.

The spite directed at him by the First Prince constituted a thoroughly troublesome affliction.

Had he possessed no prior immunity, the sheer weight of it likely would have left him incapacitated.

Even so, it stopped short of causing immediate death.

To consume the entire pool of missing individuals from the Imperial Palace for such an outcome rendered the curse disproportionately weak.

“Demons never dispense power without exacting a precise price in return.”

That represented a truth the Marquis of Byrdantis understood better than most.

Power came at the exact cost of what was offered.

A curse yielded results strictly proportional to the sacrifice made.

“…Which means.”

“Someone else is orchestrating events behind the scenes.”

“Or actively covering them up.”

Without exchanging a spoken word, all three men arrived at the exact same suspect.

The Empress.

Motives were certainly not lacking.

Even so…

“How peculiar.”

Rikschel murmured, a look of genuine perplexity crossing his features.

“The Empress possesses numerous political tools at her disposal. Why resort to such a hazardous method?”

The very moment those words settled into the quiet room.

*Knock knock.*

A light rap sounded at the door before a palace servant hurried inside, speaking in an urgent tone.

“Your Highness, I sincerely apologize for the intrusion, but outside at this moment—”

“Haha. My apologies, gentlemen, but I must excuse myself briefly.”

Before the servant could finish his report, the heavy door swung open to admit a visitor with a distinctly benevolent demeanor.

He wore pristine white vestments entirely unsuited for the corridors of the Imperial Palace.

“Forgive me for barging in while you are engaged in discussion with your associates.”

The Archbishop stood before the trio, wearing a relaxed, easy smile.

*Glance.*

At a subtle signal from the Second Prince’s eyes, the servant, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, quickly backed out and pulled the door shut.

The servant bore no blame for the breach.

Priests rarely set foot within the Imperial Palace under normal circumstances.

When they did, visits were strictly confined to the Emperor’s private chambers.

Moreover, this visitor was no ordinary cleric, but a high-ranking Archbishop.

To make matters stranger, he had previously gone out of his way to avoid meeting the Second Prince directly.

That calculated distance had presumably served to keep the political and religious spheres separate in the wake of the curse incident.

Yet for him to appear here now…

“To pay a personal visit.”

Since turning the man away was clearly out of the question, hearing his justification seemed the only logical course.