MHHC Chapter 17

Malicious

After swallowing a sip of tea, Padre looked directly at her and asked.

"What on earth happened?"

"Everything I know is exactly as I wrote in the letter. I included only the facts I witnessed, nothing added or removed."

"Good heavens. So you're saying Grand Duke Ansgar truly awakened from death? Not that he recovered from a fatal wound?"

Adelheid barely managed to nod. Her delicate face was pale as a withered lily. Her eyes, sensitized from retracing the past, trembled and collapsed downward. Adelheid continued with difficulty.

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, even I wouldn't have believed it. A dead man coming back to life. Too wicked for a joke, too bizarre for a rumor."

"……."

"But, Father Padre. You must know this too. How all of Denburg was in uproar over the Grand Duke's obituary."

"It was unprecedented. Even His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince expressed condolences for his cousin's death."

"From the moment His Grace was transported to the north, I accompanied the coffin. The coffin had no nails driven into it, so if there had been a living person inside, anyone would have noticed."

"……Are you certain? Did you open the coffin and properly confirm the body?"

"When I checked again one last time, there were no signs of life."

She raised her trembling hand to her forehead.

"The night His Grace came back to life. Everyone who was in the reception room acts as if they've forgotten that night's memories. They celebrate His Grace's survival without a care, raise toasts, laugh, and chatter."

"……."

"The more they do, the more frightened I become. I constantly doubt myself. Whether I'm truly in my right mind, or whether such a thing really happened at all……."

"……."

"The coldness when His Grace grabbed my wrist is so vivid. Yet it seems I'm the only one who remembers that night now."

"……."

"The most terrifying and dreadful thing is that sometimes when I see His Grace, even I forget that fear. I simply feel joy as if by instinct. Though we have no such bond, and I'm grateful even for that fickle affection since it's the first I've ever known..."

"……."

"Presumptuously, without knowing my place."

"Adelheid. Please, calm yourself."

The hands resting on her knees trembled violently. The emotions she'd suppressed all this time, unable to tell anyone, burst out wildly once they found an outlet. Even Adelheid herself, speaking the words, hadn't realized how much the fear fed by doubt had grown.

The silence stretched long. Padre appeared to be thinking about something throughout. He finally opened his mouth.

"The Battle of Northofen, where His Grace fell, was truly the final act bringing the long war to a close. With each victory, His Majesty openly favored his nephew and the war's supreme commander, Grand Duke Ansgar."

"I heard such rumors circulated in the capital."

"You must know that His Majesty repeatedly mentioned in his exalted mouth, as if in jest, that he wouldn't hesitate to give even the Crown Prince's position."

The abruptly changed topic felt out of place. But Padre was not someone who acted carelessly. Adelheid nodded as if in agreement.

"That's why there were many rumors surrounding His Grace's death."

"Also because he met his end in the final battle. Thanks to that, there were rumors he died by allied hands rather than the enemy's, and rumors he feigned death for fear of offending an exalted person."

"I've heard them all."

Though phrased obliquely as "an exalted person," the subject was clear enough even for Adelheid, who was ignorant of political affairs.

'The Crown Prince was keeping my husband in check.'

The moment she thought of the Crown Prince, light goosebumps rose all over her body. The ambitious Count Reichenau had frequently invited the Crown Prince to the count's estate for Charlotte's sake. And each time, Adelheid had been summoned to serve tea.

While Charlotte may have chosen this to tear apart Adelheid's pride, Adelheid's blood ran cold when she recalled those times for an entirely different reason. The greed writhing beneath the Crown Prince's well-groomed face was rudely blatant.

That sticky gaze that assessed her from head to toe, clinging persistently even when she looked away.

As if looking at something curious, or looking at something so tempting he couldn't bear not to have it…

Strictly speaking, that person felt more malicious than Oskar. At least Oskar didn't have a fiancée.

"So."

Lost in thought, Adelheid snapped to attention at Father Padre's words. Father Padre's face was now as serious as Adelheid's own.

"When I heard His Grace had been revived, I thought complacently that he must have survived a mortal wound, that the dramatic survival was rumored to leave a favorable impression on the empire's citizens."

"……."

"Adelheid. If everything you wrote in the letter is true, this is no ordinary matter. In the empire's hundreds of years of history, such a thing has never once occurred."

Genuine concern showed in Father Padre's gentle eyes. Adelheid opened her mouth in a lowered voice.

"I fear most that some truly wicked power may have intervened in this matter… That's what frightens me most."

"You're speaking of monsters."

"The north does tend to have such things flowing in more frequently. Though it's most likely that I'm being oversensitive."

"I'll need to see His Grace directly to give you an answer. Can you arrange a meeting within a few days?"

"There's someone I'd like you to meet first."

"Who?"

"You'll know."

Adelheid stood from her seat and opened a door at one corner of the reception room. Padre craned his neck to see who was entering, then froze with his mouth hanging open.

"Greta?"

The robust build of the Greta he remembered was nowhere to be seen—instead, a shocking sight of haggardness and shabbiness. That face, tensed with sensitivity as if fearing something even in broad daylight, and that emaciated appearance looking ready to collapse at the slightest touch…

A sigh escaped Padre's mouth unbidden.

"This can't be."

"Please look at this."

Adelheid carefully pulled down the cloth Greta wore around her neck. Though the purple-tinged bruises had faded with time, the severely swollen vocal cords showed no signs of subsiding.

Padre looked at Greta's neck with subtly rigid eyes. He lightly pressed just below Greta's jaw with his index finger.

"……How long has it been like this?"

"A little over a week. It seems she was attacked by a monster—could it be because the holy power protecting Ansgar Castle has weakened?"

Padre shook his head.

"This alone isn't enough to confirm it was a monster's doing, but… certainly, some malevolent power has taken hold. At this rate, even if the throat swelling subsides, there's a high chance her voice won't return."

"Then what should we do?"

"If someone cast a curse, there must be a solution. We must either find it or make the one who cast the curse lift it."

If it was a curse rather than a monster's work, the scope widened to include sorcerers. Of course, curses cast by sorcerers were crude compared to monsters.

They were closer to petty malice—making horses run backward, sending goats flying onto rooftops, or causing minor seizures. She'd never heard of a curse that eliminated someone's voice like this.

'Besides, sorcerers themselves are rare now. And I heard they live deep in the mountains.'

"First, I'll make a protective charm to slow the curse's progression."

Adelheid barely emerged from her thoughts at Padre's words.

"Thank you. That will be a great help."

"And if Her Grace permits, I think it would be best to stay in the castle for about a week and observe His Grace closely."

"Padre, are you serious?"

"Of course. I cannot treat such a matter lightly."

Adelheid exhaled a sigh of joy and relief at Padre's answer.

A whole week. She could deceive her way through a day or two, but a week—even the most meticulous monster would slip up in that time.

"If you do that, Padre, it will be a tremendous help."

"Before that, Adelheid."

"Yes. Please speak."

"Has your husband abused you since awakening? Or do you sense murderous intent in his attitude toward you?"

"No, nothing like that. In fact, he wasn't such a harsh person to begin with."

"So you can hold proper conversations?"

"Though he's awkward, he's steadily… Yes, he's learning."

"Then it's unlikely to be a monster's work. Monsters don't possess great intelligence. All monsters are facsimiles of 'the Shadow.'"

"Facsimiles of the Shadow?"

"Yes. Even if they're lucky enough to possess a human body, they don't have the intellect to learn anything."

"That can't be."

Adelheid covered her mouth and widened her eyes.

'All those countless monsters are facsimiles of "the Shadow"?'

The Shadow, the Dragon of Bitzleben. She'd complacently assumed "it" was merely a monster, however powerful—but it was actually a being great enough to command thousands, tens of thousands of facsimiles? As Adelheid blinked in bewilderment, Padre explained calmly.

"Myths typically spawn numerous stories from a single archetype. Rumors and legends sometimes contain unexpected truths."

"Legends?"

"According to old texts I saw in the temple, it's written thus. The supreme god Morig had a shadow that resembled him exactly."

"I've never heard such a legend…"

"If I hadn't discovered it by chance, I wouldn't have known such a legend existed. In any case, the two were said to be like twins, difficult to distinguish when placed side by side."

"Twins?"

"Yes. But unlike Morig, 'the Shadow' is said to be darker than a winter night, more vicious than hellfire, with jealous green eyes that gleam and a serpent's tongue that loves sowing discord."

"……."

"If His Grace is truly learning something, it's one of two things. Either a miracle truly occurred, or…"

The Shadow has taken hold.

At that moment, a slight winter wind brushed past their backs. Though neither the window nor even the door to the corridor stood open.