The Lady You Want to Kill 8. The Source of Your Illusions (8/39)

8. The Source of Illusions

Francis Vellenoze possessed an unusual ability. To describe it dramatically, he could glimpse the future; in simpler terms, he had a keen sense for detecting danger.

This ability had manifested in various ways throughout his life. As a child, it had helped him prevent Vicellophe from sustaining a scar on her knee after a nasty fall. Later, after joining the temple, he had foreseen and thwarted an attack on the High Priest during a public prayer by identifying the assailant ahead of time.

The source of Francis’s ability was unknown, and it acted independently of his will. Sometimes, it appeared as a strong premonition—deja vu-like or mirage-like flashes. For example, if he saw a man in his periphery and felt a powerful sense that the man would fall and break his leg, it invariably happened.

Occasionally, he would lock eyes with someone and see a grotesque vision of their broken neck dangling unnaturally—a vision that often preceded their actual death in an accident days later. On rarer occasions, it was something as mundane as foreseeing a man spilling tea while stirring in four lumps of sugar—completely inconsequential but oddly precise.

Very few people knew of Francis’s gift. His parents back home, his childhood friend Vicellophe, and his mentor, Theodor, at the temple were the only ones aware of it.

While minor premonitions, like someone tripping or getting hurt, were manageable and could often be prevented, the visions—vivid and gruesome—were a source of immense stress for Francis. These fleeting moments, in which he witnessed horrifying fates, slowly chipped away at his mental well-being.

Unlike his premonitions, which always came true unless he intervened, the accuracy of his visions was inconsistent. Sometimes, they were false alarms. For instance, he once saw a marquis’s daughter coughing up blood in a vision but later learned she was perfectly healthy and had even returned to the temple for prayers a month later.

The person who had extended a hand to help Francis through his silent struggles was Theodor, a high-ranking priest at the temple.

While Francis’s ability occasionally proved useful, it brought him more distress than anything else. Without Theodor’s healing magic, Francis suspected he’d have collapsed from stress-induced stomach ailments several times a month.

Currently, Francis and Theodor were traveling by carriage to the Count’s estate at the behest of the Imperial Order. While the temple and the Imperial Order maintained cordial relations, there was a long-standing tension between the Imperial Knights and the Holy Knights. This rivalry stemmed from the fact that, ten years ago, the title of the Empire’s greatest swordsman had passed from the commander of the Imperial First Order to the commander of the Holy Knights.

However, there was no time to dwell on such rivalries. The request from the Imperial Knights concerned not a minor curse but a murder—an unusual and weighty matter. The High Priest had assigned Theodor to the case and paired him with Francis, a rising star in the order.

The carriage ride to the manor was quiet. Theodor and Francis were comfortable enough with each other to share silence without awkwardness. Still, Theodor noticed the shadow of unease on Francis’s face and spoke up in a kind tone.

“Are you still having trouble sleeping because of that incident?” he asked.

“Yes,” Francis admitted.

“I’ll prepare a tea to help you sleep when we return. You’ve been restless ever since the debutante ball ended, and it worries me.”

“It’s likely because the vision I saw then was so vivid,” Francis replied.

During the debutante ball, where he had attended as Vicellophe’s partner, Francis had experienced the most intense vision of his life. Unlike his usual flashes, which vanished in an instant, this one had lingered for several seconds. The prolonged vision had unsettled him so deeply that he could scarcely fulfill his role as Vicellophe’s partner.

“What did you see at the ball?” Theodor asked gently, though he already knew part of the answer.

Francis hesitated before speaking. “A massacre. Blood everywhere. And at the center…” His voice faltered. “A woman, her hands drenched in blood. She was calm, almost serene.”

“Do you believe it’s connected to the matter at the Count’s estate?” Theodor pressed.

“I don’t know,” Francis said, his voice strained.

“But the feeling hasn’t left me since.”

Theodor leaned back in his seat, his expression pensive. The Imperial Order had only given them sparse details about the murder, but based on what Francis had said, it seemed this trip would uncover something far darker than they had anticipated.

Vicellophe, ever considerate, had stayed with Francis on the terrace for a while, gently patting his back and offering him solace, even though it was her debut into high society.

“Which young lady did you see covered in blood?” she asked quietly.

“Covered in blood…” Francis hesitated. “It was more than that. She was utterly drenched in it. Her eyes were open, but…”

Francis recalled the moment vividly. As he and Vicellophe entered the hall, his gaze had met that of a young lady—a tall figure with jet-black hair and piercing golden eyes. The instant their eyes locked, his vision had turned crimson.

The radiant pearl-colored dress she wore had been soaked in blood, its weight dragging it down. Her face, pale as a winter moon, bore no expression—emptier and colder than any corpse he’d ever seen.

Her cascading black hair clumped together in matted strands, soaked in blood. Her eyes, visible beneath her half-lowered eyelids, were so clouded they appeared almost black.

Francis had believed, then and there, that this vision foretold her death. It was the most despairing and sinister premonition he’d ever experienced. The oppressive weight of it had driven him to leave the debutante ball prematurely, returning to the temple as soon as he’d confirmed Vicellophe had settled in comfortably among her peers.

“You mentioned that visions aren’t always inevitable, but if you’re concerned, you could send an anonymous letter to warn her family,” Vicellophe suggested. “Even if it’s vague, it might prompt them to take precautions.”

“Do you think that would work?”

“They might investigate the source, but a family like hers wouldn’t lack the resources to verify the warning. Do you know which family she belongs to?”

Francis closed his eyes, sifting through his memory. The original image of her dress and demeanor had been obscured by the vision of blood, but he pieced it together. She hadn’t seemed like someone from a lesser house, and indeed, the family name he recalled hearing later confirmed his suspicions.

“Ember,” he said softly. “The young lady belongs to the Ember Ducal Family.”

The moment Francis uttered the name, Theodor’s expression shifted. It was a curious mix of recognition and regret, as if he knew something he wished he didn’t.

“Do you know her?” Francis asked, puzzled by the reaction.

“…Not well,” Theodor replied after a long pause, his voice thoughtful. He lapsed into silence, lost in contemplation.

Francis decided not to interrupt, leaning back against the seat of the carriage. He let his eyes drift to the passing scenery, but his thoughts returned to the vision.

It had been so vivid, unlike anything he’d experienced before. Beneath the grand chandelier of the opulent hall, the young lady had stood drenched in blood as if it were real. While other debutantes had glowed with excitement, she had seemed distant, almost indifferent—until someone approached her, and her expression transformed into a serene, moonlit smile.

“I can relay the message to the duchy,” Theodor said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. For now, let’s focus on the task at hand,” Theodor replied firmly.

Francis nodded, though the unease didn’t entirely leave him.

When the carriage came to a halt, the two stepped out into the bright sunlight and gazed at the Count’s estate. Despite its beauty, there was an unmistakable tension in the air, underscored by the grim expressions of the servants and the stern faces of the Imperial Knights moving about the grounds.

In addition to the knights, Francis spotted a carriage bearing the crest of the Imperial Magicians, further evidence of the gravity of the situation.

Following a servant’s lead, they ascended to the fifth floor, but the servant stopped at the fourth, gesturing uneasily toward the upper level. Clearly, he wanted no part of the scene of the murder.

Francis and Theodor took the last flight of stairs alone, only to be confronted with one of the most horrific sights either of them had ever witnessed. The visceral brutality of the scene sent a chill down their spines.

Struggling to compose themselves, they left the crime scene and sought out Commander Gildbet of the Imperial Third Order.

Gildbet greeted them with a balanced demeanor, neither overly formal nor dismissive.

“The Imperial Magicians have already completed their magical analysis,” Gildbet informed them.

“And what did they find?” Theodor asked.

Gildbet shook his head. “Nothing. There’s a faint trace of magic, but they attribute it to the common enchanted tools often used in noble households.”

“So, you’d like me to conduct a different kind of search,” Theodor surmised.

“Exactly,” Gildbet confirmed.

Francis stood quietly as Theodor prepared himself for what lay ahead, though his thoughts drifted again to the young lady from the ball. The vision of her drenched in blood felt less like a warning of her death and more like a harbinger of destruction.

Theodor and Francis followed Amanda, the count’s maid, through the manor’s hallways toward Florianne’s room on the third floor. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the weight of unanswered questions. Every step echoed faintly, amplifying the uneasy silence.

As they walked, Francis couldn’t shake the oppressive sense of foreboding gnawing at him. The vision of the blood-soaked young lady—the Ember duchess’s daughter—lingered in his mind, its vividness a constant shadow over his thoughts.

Theodor, walking beside him, seemed equally preoccupied. He had been unsettled ever since hearing that the young lady from the Ember Ducal Family was staying at the manor. The vision Francis had shared, combined with the brutal murder, left too many loose ends for his comfort.

Finally, Amanda stopped in front of a door and knocked gently.

“Miss Florianne, it’s Amanda. The priests from the temple have arrived,” she announced.

After a brief pause, the door opened slightly, and Emily, Florianne’s personal maid, peeked out. She glanced at Amanda and then at the two priests behind her. With a somber nod, she stepped aside to let them in.

Inside, Florianne sat propped up against a pile of pillows on her bed. Her complexion was pale, her eyes sunken and red from crying. Despite her fragile state, she forced a weak smile at the visitors.

“Thank you for coming,” she said softly. Her voice trembled, and her hands clutched the edge of her blanket tightly.

Theodor stepped forward, his demeanor warm and calming. “You’ve been through a great deal, my lady. We’re here to check on you and offer any assistance we can.”

Florianne’s gaze shifted to Francis, her expression wavering. She seemed to sense his unease but said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, allowing Theodor to proceed with his examination.

As Theodor placed a gentle hand near her forehead, Francis glanced around the room. His eyes fell on another figure seated by the window: a young woman with jet-black hair cascading over her shoulders and a calm, distant expression.

Francis froze. It was her.

The vision from the debutante ball surged back into his mind with unnerving clarity. The blood-drenched image of her pale face, her dress soaked and heavy, her lifeless eyes… It was the same young lady, sitting there as if nothing had happened.

“Francis?” Theodor’s voice broke through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

“Yes, Father?”

“Are you all right?” Theodor’s gaze flicked between him and Beatrice Ember, concern evident in his eyes.

“I… I’m fine,” Francis replied, though his voice wavered slightly.

Beatrice turned her golden eyes toward him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, the room felt suffocatingly quiet. Then, she offered a polite nod.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said softly. Her tone was pleasant, but there was an unsettling calm beneath it, as if she were entirely detached from the chaos surrounding her.

Francis forced a small smile in return. “The pleasure is mine.”

Theodor finished his brief examination of Florianne and turned to Beatrice. “Miss Ember, may I also check on you? We’ve been told you were unwell.”

Beatrice tilted her head slightly, her expression one of polite curiosity. “I’m fine, Father. A little tired, perhaps, but nothing worth worrying over.”

Theodor didn’t press further, though he exchanged a subtle glance with Francis. There was something off about her—something neither of them could quite place.

After a few more words of reassurance to Florianne, Theodor and Francis excused themselves from the room, leaving the two young women and their maids behind.

As they walked back toward the staircase, Theodor leaned closer to Francis and whispered, “That’s her, isn’t it? The young lady from your vision?”

“Yes,” Francis replied grimly.

“And yet she seems perfectly unharmed.”

“For now,” Francis muttered. “But there’s more to this. I’m sure of it.”

Theodor sighed heavily. “Let’s return to the investigation for now. We need to understand more before we act.”

But as they descended the stairs, Francis couldn’t shake the feeling that the answers they sought were tied inextricably to Beatrice Ember—and that the blood-soaked vision might still come to pass.

* * *

Amanda descended the staircase, her thoughts swirling around the investigation’s current focus: black magic. The investigators were searching for traces of forbidden sorcery, but nothing had been found within the manor.

Of course, nothing would be found—Beatrice hadn’t used black magic.

When Amanda first heard the theory about using black magic to enhance the body, she had briefly worried that it might explain Beatrice’s inhuman strength. The power she had displayed the previous night was beyond human capability, after all.

 

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