AIDHWM Chapter 33

Sebelia returned to her room, set down her belongings, and closed her eyes.

 

Her lowered hands slowly rose until they were level with her shoulders.

 

For a very brief moment, the air tightened, as if someone were pulling it from both ends.

 

And in the next instant, a bright light bloomed in her hands.

 

Flaaash—!

 

Sebelia opened her eyes and flung her hand open. The cluster of light lifted into the air and hovered before her.

 

Whoosh…

 

The light, no larger than her palm at first, gradually expanded until it grew to the size of a person.

 

“It’s done.”

 

Had anyone else seen it, they wouldn’t have just been surprised,they would’ve been absolutely stunned.

 

“I’m counting on you again.”

 

What she had created was none other than a second version of herself. Sebelia sighed as she faced the illusion that looked exactly like her.

 

“Please, let him come to his senses this time.”

 

And the illusion blinked slowly in response.

***

 

The secret Ilay had been keeping was enough to infuriate Dehart.

 

But luckily for him, Dehart was already in a state of self-doubt.

 

He was deeply unsettled by the flaw Ilay had pointed out—the fact that he had personally confirmed his wife’s death. He had seen her lifeless body with his own eyes, touched her cold cheek, and even pressed a final kiss on her forehead.

 

Then what on earth did I see?

 

A madman couldn’t answer that question, and the doubt that had already taken root in his heart only continued to torment him.

 

She looked exactly like Sebelia—undeniably so. Not only that, but she had visibly panicked upon being seen by him and, by some means, had managed to shake him off and flee.

 

In the end, all he could do was return to the decision he’d made before.

 

“I have to see her.”

 

If he couldn’t find the answer himself, he would have to get it from her.

 

And so, Dehart quickly led his knights to the inn Ilay had mentioned. He had brought every available man—except those he had stationed at the city gates.

 

“Seal off the entrance. Dixon, go explain the situation to the innkeeper. Rudley, circle around and secure any staff exits.”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

“Understood.”

 

The knights moved with disciplined precision, fanning out to block every possible exit.

 

Ahhh, it wouldn’t be long now until he has her. Soon, he will be staring into those blue eyes again

 

“Damn it.”

 

Dehart could feel his heart hammering wildly, as if it had lodged itself in his ears. He paused for a moment, trying to calm himself down.

 

Behind him, Ilay lingered, watching.

 

“Are you all right, sir?”

 

“I’m fine. Go join the others.” Dehart waved him off dismissively, but Ilay didn’t move an inch.

 

Dehart frowned.

 

Until now, he hadn’t had the energy to address Ilay’s insolence, but if this kept up, it would become a problem.

 

“Ilay Hartsfield! I’ll only say this once…”

 

“My lord, look up.” The knight cut him off, his voice trembling, something completely unlike him.

 

Dehart raised an eyebrow as Ilay gripped his shoulder with a shaking hand.

 

His gaze followed the knight’s.

 

“…No.”

 

A chorus of gasps escaped those who had looked up.

 

At the highest point of the building, white curtains billowed through a wide-open window. And behind them, flaring like a banner in the wind, sat a lone figure.

 

Brown hair swayed gently in the breeze. Cold blue eyes stared down at them with the poise and arrogance of a queen upon her throne.

 

“Sebelia.”

 

The moment her name left his lips, it felt like flames surged up his throat. His eyes burned as if scorched by fire, and his ears rang, muffled, as though submerged underwater.

 

Yet Sebelia seemed completely unaware of his turmoil. She sat on the windowsill with that same detached expression, teetering on the edge as if she might fall at any moment. The white curtain kept fluttering around her, revealing and concealing her like a ghost slipping in and out of sight.

 

It was Ilay who stopped him from rushing to her.

 

“Out of my way!”

 

“Please, calm down!” Ilay grabbed him, his face pale.

 

Ever since he’d laid eyes on the woman in the window, Dehart’s mind had been thrown into disarray.

 

Could she really have been the Duchess all along?

 

Ilay hadn’t believed it—not even when he told Dehart where to find the inn. His only intention had been to bring the duke face to face with the woman who merely resembled the Duchess, to force him to accept the truth.

 

But things were spiraling out of control.

 

At worst, Ilay had expected the woman to get angry and for them to be kicked out by Baron Surpredi.

 

But climbing onto the windowsill?

 

He didn’t want to believe it, but it felt like she was afraid—afraid of them getting any closer.

 

Damn it.

 

For the first time, Ilay was forced to consider the terrifying possibility that his superior’s irrational suspicion might actually be right. If she were just a look-alike—some stranger who had nothing to do with the Duchess—there’s no way she’d be acting like this.

 

In the end, as Dehart thrashed violently, Ilay had no choice but to cling to him and shout:

 

“I’ll go up! Let me try talking to her!”

 

“I’m not wasting another second on your nonsense.”

 

“But if something goes wrong—don’t you want to be ready to catch her?!”

 

Dehart’s sharp gaze pierced straight through him. Ilay instinctively swallowed hard and released his grip.

 

For a split second, he truly felt as if his throat was being cut by a blade.

 

“Please, allow me to go to her.”

 

Dehart clenched his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth might crack, his eyes locked on Sebelia.

 

She was looking down at them with a calm, detached expression, so different from when they’d last met.

 

And Dehart had seen that look before.

 

In knights who’d made peace with death before stepping onto the battlefield.

 

That chilling serenity—the quiet resolve of someone who had already said goodbye to everything they loved. That same air now surrounded Sebelia.

 

“Damn it!”

 

Just as Dehart made his decision, ready to send Ilay up….

 

“Aaaagh!”

 

“She’s…!”

 

“No, catch her!”

 

Screams split the air like thunder. Instinctively, both men snapped their heads toward Sebelia.

 

She was on the windowsill, one foot already reaching out into the open air.

 

“……!”

 

There was no time to hesitate. In this moment, even thinking was a sin.

 

Dehart launched forward desperately, legs kicking off the ground, arms thrown wide.

 

Please, please, PLEASE!

 

His chest felt like it would explode. In a single breath, the horrors of that day returned—

The tolling of the funeral bell.

The priest’s long, dreadful liturgy.

Her serene face, lying still in the coffin.

Cold.

Lifeless.

Never to open her eyes again.

 

Thud.

 

The entire street seemed to exhale as one, flooded with overwhelming relief.

 

Except for one man.

 

Only Dehart, clutching Sebelia tightly in his arms as they tumbled to the ground, trembled in raw, unshakable terror.

 

“Your Grace!”

 

Ilay rushed over, eyes darting between the duke and the woman in his arms. At the sight of Dehart clutching her so tightly, gasping for air like a man drowning, Ilay swallowed a strangled sound.

 

So she is real.

 

His logic—teetering between disbelief and confusion—finally tilted toward Dehart. Even if that brown-haired woman wasn’t the Duchess… she could become her.

 

If he wants her so badly.….then maybe letting her live as the Duchess wouldn’t be a bad idea after all..

 

Having reached this satisfactory conclusion, Ilay signaled the knights. They needed to gently escort Sebelia away before Dehart regained his senses.

 

But at that very moment….

 

The woman they had thought unconscious suddenly opened her eyes; Her unfocused blue eyes darted wildly before locking onto Dehart.

 

“Sebelia!”

 

Dehart was the first to notice. He cupped her face with trembling hands, his voice ragged—torn to shreds as he repeated her name again and again.

 

“Sebelia, Sebelia… Is it really you? Am I….Am I really seeing you?”

 

His voice was a wretched mess of desperation and hope, terror and longing—so raw and broken that even the coldest, most indifferent person would have shuddered in the face of such complete emotional collapse.

 

But the blue eyes staring up at him were frigid.

 

They were so icy in their indifference, Ilay, watching from just a few steps away, instinctively recoiled.

 

Then, slowly, her lips parted.

 

The whisper that escaped them was so faint Dehart had to lean in, straining to catch it.

 

And the moment her lips closed….

 

The abyss opened wide.

 

Dehart clung to her with a face stricken by despair…

 

Fwoosh….!

 

But Sebelia, once cradled in his arms, dissolved into a flurry of blue feathers, vanishing without a trace.

 

“What the…!”

 

Ilay and the knights immediately scattered in all directions—but it was useless.

 

All that remained were blue feathers, drifting gently to the ground like falling snow.

 

Could it be… a mage?!

 

Ilay bit down hard on his lip. That he’d failed to recognize the signs sooner was an unforgivable lapse for an Inverness knight.

 

If that woman was a sorceress, then this could’ve all been a cruel deception—an elaborate masquerade to impersonate the dead Duchess and toy with them all.

 

Was it all a scheme to break the Duke?

 

The world knew how vulnerable the Inverness patriarch had become after his wife’s death. Some vile opportunists might well be exploiting that weakness to destabilize the entire northern duchy.

 

“Disgusting bastards,” Ilay cursed as he kneeled next to Dehart.

 

The duke remained frozen on the ground, his arms still cradling the now empty space where Sebelia had been just moments ago.

 

“…Your Grace.”

 

“……”

 

“Please. Just give the order. I’ll find whoever did this and drag them before you.”

 

Dehart’s sunken golden eyes turned slowly to Ilay. They were dim, like tarnished metal—lifeless and heavy.

 

For a moment, Ilay saw his own reflection flicker across that dull surface, and a sudden unease prickled down his spine.

 

Then came Dehart’s voice, so low and soft, it sent a chill down the Ilay’s spine.

 

“She said… she was already dead.”

 

“What?”

 

“She said what I saw… what I wanted to see… was something long gone. That Sebelia Inverness can never return to me alive.”

 

A hollow laugh shook Dehart’s shoulders as he buried his face in shaking hands.

 

“Ahahah! Ahahah! Aghhhhhh!”

 

As expected….

 

A madman can never reach the answer he longs for.