Episode 91

My palm stung, but the satisfaction far outweighed the pain.

I was officially declared the successor to the Drenihan lineage during the last succession ceremony, formally recognized by my father. While I hadn’t received proper training yet, my title as the young duke was indisputable.

“Well, now that we’ve clarified titles, shall we thoroughly expose your filthy deeds?”

I retrieved the golden card that Roil had been carrying and held it up.

Marquis Avon’s eyes widened as he recognized it.

“Does this look familiar, Marquis?”

The golden card, embossed with the emblem of the Avon family, drew murmurs from the gathered retainers.

“Isn’t that the Avon family’s golden card?”

“The Marquis gave someone a golden card? That’s astonishing. He’s notoriously tight-fisted….”

“Yes, this card was bestowed upon someone who nearly fulfilled his ambitions.”

“His ambitions, you say…”

“You’ve all heard him lament countless times, haven’t you? About how if Davison, the sole direct heir during the 24th generation, hadn’t split from the family, the Avons would have ruled Drenihan.”

That was a story from over centuries ago.

Davison, the only heir to Drenihan at the time, fell in love with a commoner woman. Their love was met with staunch opposition from the conservative and rigid family.

Ultimately, he chose love over duty, severing ties with the family to found the Avon Marquisate. He married the commoner woman, and their descendants formed the current Avon family.

Meanwhile, the Sevrin family, who were the closest relatives to Drenihan, eyed the vacant heir’s position. The two families eventually merged due to mutual benefit, and since then, the current patriarchs of Drenihan have been of Sevrin blood.

This merger, despite initial controversy, became widely accepted over time as it strengthened the Drenihan lineage. The Sevrin patriarch was, after all, the half-brother of Drenihan’s former patriarch, sharing equal ancestral blood.

“It’s time to wake up from your dream, Marquis. The moment Davison left to establish his own lineage, the Avons lost their claim as direct heirs.”

My words made the Marquis tremble with rage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this golden card was gifted by Marquis Avon to a dark sorcerer he hired to assassinate my grandfather.”

“…!”

“Is… is that true?”

“Why would he do such a thing…?”

“He must have thought that if my father became the next Duke, his children would regain a chance at succession. Never expecting that someone like me, with only a limited time to live, would take the position instead.”

The crowd grew restless at my explanation.

“Now that you mention it, he did push for Serkhan’s succession, claiming Drenihan would reclaim its pure bloodline in the next generation….”

“Pure bloodline? Dream on. Davison was the only one with pure blood. Everyone else has the taint of a commoner’s lineage.”

Even whispered, the words carried, igniting the Marquis’s fury.

“Watch your tongue, Count Tern! How dare you call my lineage common! And—”

The Marquis pointed a trembling finger at me, shouting in desperation.

“Appointing a dying girl as the heir—how absurd! Neither the patriarch nor the Duke is in their right mind!”

“You’re the one who seems most out of touch, Marquis,” came my father’s voice as he approached the Marquis.

“Still haven’t grasped the situation? Surely you’re aware of the fate that befalls those who use a dark sorcerer’s power.”

The fate of those who resorted to dark magic was clear—execution of their entire family.

During the Orzen incident, we had intentionally kept any mention of dark magic from surfacing.

But this time was different. The Avon family and Baron Jetrin’s lineage had already been disowned by Drenihan.

The main house no longer bore responsibility for their actions.

‘Of course, the damage is so evident that exceptions are sometimes made, but we might as well set things straight this time.’

“Wait! You can’t condemn me based solely on the golden card!” the Marquis shouted, his desperation palpable.

“Yes, we have witnesses, so there’s no need to worry.”

I had instructed the knights earlier to bring in Diego, Detton, and the chamberlain, who had been detained.

Moments later, the knights arrived, dragging the three into the hall.

As soon as the chamberlain saw Baron Jetrin, he cried out bitterly.

“You said there was no way we’d get caught!”

In contrast, Detton and Diego remained silent, their heads bowed. They had confessed and cooperated with me, so they would be spared the death penalty.

With the majority of the family gathered, I pressed the witnesses for concise confessions, establishing the facts.

The more evidence emerged, the more adamantly the marquis and baron denied everything.

“No, it’s not true! These lowlifes are conspiring with the young lady to frame me! I’ve never even met a dark sorcerer!”

“And yet, the most incriminating evidence can be found on your elbow, Marquis,” I said, gesturing toward him.

The knight restraining the marquis pulled up his sleeve, exposing his arm.

“What are you doing?!”

There, on the back of his elbow, was the black sigil of a split sun.

[‘Twilight’ leaves a binding curse on the body of its client: first, to ensure payment upon job completion; second, to prevent any disclosure about Twilight. Breaching these terms brings unbearable agony.]

This was precisely what Ibis had explained to me. As she predicted, the mark of Twilight’s contract was etched onto the marquis.

The contract-binding curse wasn’t tied to Roil but rather to the leader of Twilight, which is why the remnants of the mark hadn’t yet faded.

“So, the man who claims he’s never met a dark sorcerer bears the mark of their contract on his body?”

Faces around us shifted from doubt to distrust. The overwhelming evidence left no room for the marquis’s claims to hold water.

Once a meticulously hidden conspiracy is uncovered, the revelations often follow like a cascade.

“…Hah.”

The marquis fell silent for a moment before suddenly pulling something sharp from his coat.

“…!”

In the blink of an eye, he drew a dagger, shoved the knights aside, and lunged at me.

“You wretched girl!”

As the knights scrambled to intercept him, a fierce torrent of water materialized out of nowhere, wrapping around the marquis’s throat.

“Grrk… ack…!”

The dagger, inches from me, fell to the floor with a clatter.

The torrent tightened around the marquis’s neck, rendering him unconscious before collapsing him onto the ground with a heavy thud.

While I stared at his unconscious form, a large hand rested gently on my head.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“Damn it, Sierra could’ve been hurt! How could you let this happen?” Grandfather scolded the knights.

“We’re sorry, sir. We didn’t expect him to act so suddenly—”

“Spare me the excuses. Take that fool and lock him in the underground prison!”

“Yes, sir!”

The knights swiftly carried away the unconscious Marquis Avon and the wailing Baron Jetrin.

The wide hallway, now in chaos, buzzed with murmurs.

In just a few days, Drenihan had been thrown into unprecedented turmoil—Thergon’s miraculous recovery, the fall of the influential Avon family, and the exposure of their conspiracy.

All eyes turned to me, standing in the middle of it all.

One of the relatives hesitantly asked, “Thergon, does this mean you’ll be resuming your role as head of the family?”

“What nonsense. After holding the succession ceremony, do you expect an old man like me to take up the position again?”

“No, that’s not what I meant….”

“Serkhan is the head of Drenihan. That won’t change.”

“Then, do you also have no objections to Lady Sierra becoming the heir?”

To this sharp question, my grandfather chuckled, his voice rising louder than before.

“Is there any better successor?”

Though he smiled, the hint of menace in his gaze made the man who asked the question flinch.

This man had been close to Marquis Avon and had always opposed my succession.

“You’ve all seen it today—this child is far sharper than you think. And as for the health concerns you’re all so fixated on, I’ll take care of them by any means necessary.”

The weight of his sharp presence bordered on outright intimidation.

“From now on, treat Sierra as the rightful young duke of Drenihan.”

He ruffled my hair playfully and added, “As the most precious and cherished granddaughter of Thergon Drenihan, I’ll personally deal with anyone foolish enough to disrespect her like that fool earlier.”

It was perhaps the most terrifying declaration anyone could hear.

 

 

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