The dark underground prison was filled with the characteristic musty smell of moss and mold.
Despite having worked here for a long time, the guard could never get used to the smell. He wrinkled his nose and glanced at the woman occupying the innermost cell.
Her long, silver hair, like melted moonlight, flowed messily over her chest.
Her skin was white and clean, her nose sharply defined. Her small, red lips and clear blue eyes, reminiscent of the sea, gave her an otherworldly beauty.
Even though her clothes were somewhat shabby, they couldn’t conceal her striking appearance.
“Snap out of it!”
As the guard, half-bewitched by the woman, stood in a daze, his colleague elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
“Don’t let that witch mesmerize you! You’ll end up being burned at the stake as her accomplice!”
“Oh, sorry. She’s just so beautiful that I couldn’t help it…”
“That’s a typical witch’s trick. They use their looks to enchant you and then turn you into a puppet with black magic.”
That’s right. The guard agreed with his colleague and glared at the witch.
“They say she claims to be Olven’s daughter?”
“Yeah. It’s absurd, considering how desperate she must be to make such an unbelievable lie.”
“Exactly. Everyone in the village knows Olven’s daughter died a long time ago.”
In a small estate with fewer than a hundred households, the villagers knew each other well enough to know how many spoons their neighbors had.
It was ridiculous that a woman, whom none of them had ever seen, suddenly appeared and claimed to be Olven’s daughter, who had lived in this village for over 20 years.
“Still, she seems to know something. She knew the name of Olven’s dead daughter.”
“That’s right. What was her name again?”
“It was Irene.”
Despite the guards’ chatter, the woman, Irene, who had her face buried between her knees, lifted her head at the sound of her name and looked at the guards.
“Cough, cough. What’s for lunch today?”
“Well, I don’t know. Ah, I’m hungry.”
Startled by her gaze, the guards feigned ignorance and quickly left the prison.
Left alone, Irene stared at the moss-covered floor with slightly unfocused eyes.
“I really am his daughter…”
It wasn’t something she wanted. She was born as his daughter and, as a result, had to call him father even though she didn’t want to.
Yet, the villagers unanimously denied that she could be Olven’s daughter.
She could understand why they thought that way. The villagers had never seen her before.
That was also true for Irene. She had lived her whole life at home, never meeting anyone except her parents.
So, while she understood why they didn’t recognize her, she couldn’t accept the other accusations.
For instance, that she was the one who killed Olven and his wife and set fire to the village.
And that she was a witch.
It wasn’t that she was denying it because she didn’t want to be burned at the stake; it simply wasn’t true.
She didn’t know who set the fire and killed Olven, but she knew who killed his wife, her mother.
It was Olven, that man.
Her mother had tried to stop him when he was violently drunk and had died accidentally after hitting her head on the edge of a table.
Upon seeing her mother’s death, Irene…what had she done?
Irene blinked slowly, trying to recall, but nothing came to mind.
After confirming her mother’s death, she lost consciousness.
When she regained her senses, she was wandering aimlessly through the flames.
She was then discovered by the villagers and accused of being a witch, leading to her imprisonment.
‘I will die soon.’
Witches were always burned at the stake.
Her long eyelashes were wet, and as tears rolled down her cheeks, she covered her face with her hands.
She was terrified of dying, but at least she would be reunited with her mother.
‘And I won’t have to suffer anymore.’
Relieved by this thought yet saddened by the reality that she had to find solace in such a grim fate, Irene laughed and cried like someone who had lost their mind.
*
To burn a witch at the stake, one needed the sacred flame managed by the temple.
Baron Silas sent a servant to the temple to borrow the flame.
With the preparations for the execution complete, all that was left was to wait for the servant to return with the flame.
However, an unexpected visitor caused Baron Silas to sweat profusely, feeling as if he were crying from his back.
Not only was his shirt soaked, but he was also wiping the cold sweat from his remaining hair as he looked at the man sitting opposite him.
Carlos Dun Esper.
Having a middle name indicated noble status, and indeed, Carlos was the head and the only Duke of the Esper family, the ruling power of the North that even the royal family dared not touch.
It was natural for Baron Silas to be nervous facing such an extraordinary figure. His head lowered instinctively.
Despite the tension, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Carlos’s face, which was captivating regardless of gender.
With pitch-black hair like the essence of darkness and thick eyebrows, his amethyst-like purple eyes and sharp nose, and thin, red lips, Carlos was more fittingly described as “beautiful” rather than “handsome.”
In social circles, people said that when God created him, all the world’s beauty was bestowed upon him.
However, due to an overwhelming sense of intimidation, people only admired him from afar, unable to approach easily.
Carlos’s purple eyes were one reason people kept their distance.
Purple was often considered the color of demons, leading to ominous associations.
Moreover, the Duke of Esper having purple eyes fueled rumors that he might have demon blood in his veins.
Even if that weren’t true, his reputation for cutting down anyone who crossed him, even a newborn, or his supposed taste for human flesh, accompanied him like a shadow.
Despite the terrifying rumors, Baron Silas couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity, knowing that befriending Carlos would guarantee advancement to the central regions.
“What brings you to this place, Your Excellency?”
He was determined to give Carlos whatever he wanted.
“I heard there’s a witch in this village. I want to see her.”
Startled, Baron Silas widened his eyes in surprise at Carlos’s following words.
Carlos tilted his head slightly, his purple eyes showing a hint of displeasure.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, nothing at all. I will bring the witch to you immediately.”
Ordering his servants to fetch the witch, Baron Silas inwardly chuckled.
Although it was customary to burn witches upon discovery, he had heard rumors that they were sometimes used as amusement by nobles.
Carlos likely wanted to see the witch for such entertainment.
His infamous tastes were indeed unique, but it worked in Baron Silas’s favor. He could use the witch to curry favor with Carlos before her inevitable execution.
“The weather is getting hotter, it seems, but in the North…”
With ambitious plans in mind, Baron Silas made small talk until the witch arrived.
“…”
However, Carlos treated Baron Silas as if he were invisible, gazing out the window without reacting.
Feeling embarrassed, Baron Silas fell silent, and a heavy, awkward silence filled the reception room.
Though he wanted to leave immediately, he couldn’t because of the Duke. He fiddled with his teacup, longing for the witch who had ruined his territory to appear.
How much time had passed?
Knock, knock.
“Lord, the witch is here.”
“Oh, yes! Bring her in!”
Overjoyed at the long-awaited arrival, Baron Silas sprang up from his seat.
Carlos’s gaze shifted from the window to the door.
With a creak, the door opened, and Irene, shackled and in ragged clothes, was led in by the guards.
“This is the witch.”
Baron Silas introduced her like a product.
However, Carlos remained silent, staring intently at Irene.
“What are you doing? Show respect and greet His Excellency the Duke!”
Feeling embarrassed, Baron Silas scolded Irene.
“…!”
As Irene looked up and met Carlos’s gaze directly, she froze.
A mysterious chill crept up from her toes, her mouth went dry, and her palms began to sweat.
I hate this. I’m scared. I need to run away.
Faced with a fear greater than death, Irene’s face turned pale.
On the other hand, a satisfied smile appeared on Carlos’s lips.
It was so brief that no one else noticed.
Leaning leisurely against the sofa, Carlos pointed his chin towards the sofa where Baron Silas had been sitting.
“Sit.”
Baron Silas, thinking the command was directed at him, started to sit down but was immediately reprimanded.
“Who told you to sit?”
“I-I apologize!”
Startled, Baron Silas stood up again.
Carlos glanced at Baron Silas with annoyance before looking back at Irene.
“Sit.”
Finally realizing the command was for her, everyone, including the guards, turned to look at Irene.
Already terrified by Carlos’s presence, and now the focus of everyone’s gaze, Irene’s neck shrank like a turtle’s.
“I told you to sit.”
This was the third command.
Reluctantly, Baron Silas ordered the guards to make Irene sit, despite not wanting a witch on his sofa.
The guards forced Irene onto the sofa.
Sitting close to Carlos, Irene clasped her trembling hands tightly and lowered her head.
“What is your name?”
His voice was neither kind nor harsh, just neutral.
Still, Irene was too scared to speak, keeping her mouth tightly shut like a clam.
“His Excellency asked for your name. Answer him!”
Baron Silas sternly rebuked her, eyes glaring.
Swallowing dryly, Irene finally opened her mouth with difficulty.
“My name…is Irene
.”
“Irene.”
Carlos repeated her name a few times, as if savoring it, then smiled, lifting the corners of his lips smoothly.
“I am Carlos Dun Esper. I look forward to our time together.”
It was a dazzlingly beautiful yet chilling smile. To my dear readers:If anyone is reading this novel take some time and share your views about it whether i should continue translating this novel or not…your each comment will be much appreciated by me…Thank you nd much love in advance
