MHHC Chapter 73

An Unpleasant Reunion

"Y-Your Grace!"

Margaret's scream of horror died beneath the man's hand with unsettling ease.

No matter how robust her frame, she remained a woman in middle age.

In the same motion that sealed her mouth, the man struck the back of Margaret's neck with the edge of his palm.

She crumpled from a single blow, consciousness fleeing like smoke.

The intruder deposited her carelessly onto the floor, a discarded thing of no consequence.

His attention had been Adelheid's alone from the very beginning. He turned toward her now, deliberate as a key finding its lock.

"Ah, we meet again at last. You cannot imagine how I've longed for this moment."

The urgency had drained from his voice, leaving something softer, more dangerous.

Adelheid could no longer deny what her instincts had whispered—she knew the owner of that voice with terrible certainty.

The man raised his hands with theatrical slowness, pushing back his hood. In the dim shelter of the wall's shadow, his golden eyes caught the fading light and held it, luminous as a predator's in the dark.

"It's been far too long, Adelheid."

Oskar. Of course it was him.

The magic Valentin had planted in Adelheid's body churned with her tension, restless as a caged thing.

Yet the 'shadow' he'd embedded remained utterly still. It offered him no warning, no whisper of danger.

His eyes darkened with a cruelty born of understanding. There were only two possibilities for such silence: either Adelheid stood within the influence of the Grand Cathedral, or—

She'd fallen under Morig's grasp.

"How delightful to see your face again, Adele, even under such circumstances. Have you been well?"

The sight of Oskar's languid expression summoned the night of Valentin's death with visceral clarity, as if it had been yesterday and not weeks past.

She remembered his shameless question—why she called herself sister-in-law when she'd never been anything of the sort.

Oskar took another step toward her. The crooked smile at his lips deepened, a crack spreading across glass.

"What on earth made you foolish enough to follow a strange man to such a deserted place?"

His hand found her waist where he'd struck her earlier, fingers closing with deliberate force as he yanked her against him.

The pressure on her wound stole Adelheid's breath. His other hand loosened her carefully pinned hair.

Golden strands cascaded down her back with a whisper of silk against fabric.

"Adele. Did you fear death so terribly?"

Adelheid met his gaze with eyes sharp as broken glass. Her defiance seemed to please him—he pressed harder against the wound, methodical in his cruelty.

Each time, Adelheid bit her lips until they blanched white.

She refused to let a single sound of pain escape, refused to show him the agony etched in her bones. Not to this man. Never to him.

Oskar caught her chin, forcing her face upward. Between her parted lips, shallow breaths escaped like secrets she couldn't contain.

"Mm? You've never been any good at hiding things, have you?"

His smile turned vicious as he spoke. His mouth hovered near the curve of her neck, breath falling hot against her skin.

Adelheid endured the humiliation with gritted teeth. Oskar studied her nearly expressionless face for a long moment before he laughed.

"That vulnerability of yours—it drives men to madness, you know. Then as now. Do you understand that?"

"Young Duke. That woman is already undergoing monstrous transformation."

Adelheid flinched at the sudden presence she hadn't sensed.

But Oskar remained perfectly composed, as if he'd known someone lurked there all along. Gradually, a man emerged from the shadows where he'd been concealed.

Golden hair, blue eyes, the bearing of a knight—Joachim. The man who'd always looked at her as if swallowing his disgust.

'Why is he here? And what does he mean by monstrous transformation?'

Setting aside everything else—what could he possibly know that gave him such confidence? He acted as if Oskar's ascension to Grand Duke were carved in stone and inevitable.

Under ordinary circumstances, the fate of a knight who betrayed his lord ended in horror.

Even if the rebellion succeeded, the new master never truly trusted that knight again. If it failed, more than just the traitor's life hung in the balance—his entire family faced ruin.

Even those who managed to escape found no lord willing to accept them as retainers.

"..."

Yet Joachim, who understood these consequences better than anyone, merely regarded Adelheid with cold, clinical eyes.

In that taut standoff, only Oskar smiled.

"Ah, yes... I did hear something of the sort. But does it matter?"

"..."

"She's meant to be my reward anyway. After everything I've done to my own blood brother to obtain this woman..."

"As I said, maintain distance. She may be dangerous."

Joachim cut through Oskar's words with surgical precision.

"Think of her not as a fragile woman, but as a monster. Not human. That perspective will serve you better."

"How thorough you are."

Oskar raised both hands in mock surrender, stepping backward.

"As I told you, I'll conduct the conversation. You should move quickly, Young Duke. Someone might notice you."

"If you simply keep silent, even 'he' won't know... Fine, fine. Such a fanatic. Just don't forget your promise to bring her to me once your business is concluded. Even 'he' approved this arrangement."

"...Don't worry."

Oskar shrugged and departed with casual arrogance. Joachim didn't move until he'd vanished completely from sight.

True to his words, he watched her as if she truly were a monster, wariness etched into every line of his posture.

Adelheid met his gaze without flinching.

"Have you betrayed us?"

"How dare you—who are you to speak of betrayal?"

He trembled as if she'd struck him with an unbearable insult.

The more agitated he became, the more Adelheid forced herself toward calm. She clenched her shaking hands and spoke with icy precision.

"Then what would you call this, if not raising your hand against the Grand Duke?"

"Did you think I didn't know?"

"..."

"Using wicked sorcery to resurrect the Grand Duke wasn't enough—you stole his wife's body and pretended to be human..."

"Sir. What exactly are you saying?"

"The rumors claimed you were cunning beyond measure. I see now they spoke truth."

Joachim's words fell like stones into still water.

Through that brief exchange, Adelheid grasped the shape of the situation.

Some incident had convinced Joachim with absolute certainty that she—Adelheid herself—was the Dragon of Bitzleben.

She couldn't begin to guess when or how he'd arrived at this conviction, but it remained just that—conviction without proof.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You don't."

"Are you so confident you won't regret treating me with such disrespect?"

"Regret?"

He closed the distance between them in one stride, gripping her throat as if touching something vile.

He stared into her widened eyes and spoke with bitter coldness.

"I regret it every moment. I should have exposed your true nature before you corrupted the Ansgarians. Now I've drawn suspicion instead, forced to this tedious charade before I can even face you properly..."

"..."

"So stop pretending innocence, stop pretending to be human. Everything will be revealed soon enough."

The moment his words ended, white light erupted from Joachim's body. Sacred power.

"..."

Adelheid regarded him with genuine surprise.

Joachim was the eldest son of a family that had produced three high priests, and sacred power typically ran in bloodlines like an inheritance.

His possession of strong sacred power shouldn't have shocked her.

The problem lay elsewhere—those who could wield even a fraction of sacred power typically aspired to become holy knights rather than common soldiers.

'The honor and glory are worlds apart. I assumed Joachim served Ansgar instead of the holy orders because he lacked sacred power, unlike the rest of his family.'

She'd never imagined he concealed such strength.

Even as her thoughts raced, the light flowing from Joachim's body intensified steadily.

The quality of his sacred power seemed somewhat flawed, but the sheer volume nearly matched Father Padre's, despite the old priest being a high priest.

Sweat beaded on Joachim's forehead and began to drip, each drop marking his strain.

"What... Why...?"

Joachim muttered in confusion. The more composed Adelheid remained, the more his expression twisted with frustration.

The sacred power radiating from him surged stronger still.

Suddenly the world turned blindingly bright, as if heaven's sun had fallen to earth. But that was all.

"It's quite bright. How long do you intend to continue this?"

"...This, this shouldn't be possible."

He stammered in complete bewilderment at her calm question. Finally he released her throat, his face hardening as he muttered under his breath.

"...Why doesn't it affect you at all?"

"..."

"Ah, unless..."

He began calculating something, mumbling continuously before whipping his head toward her. In those brief moments, his face had gone chalk-white, filled with unprecedented desperation.

"You weren't possessed by a monster that stole control of your body—you were cursed by one?"

"..."

"Yes, that would explain it. If the curse affected only part of your body, your mind would remain human, yet such an aura could still be detected..."

"..."

"But it still doesn't explain why you show no reaction at all... Unless—did Your Grace somehow succeed in breaking the curse?"

He sounded half-mad. He spilled secrets only he understood, his speech patterns lurching between frantic urgency and eerie calm.

By the end, his tone had shifted from polite to something closer to begging.

"Please, answer me."

Joachim seized both her forearms with desperate strength. Adelheid winced at the force of his grip.

"Ah, you're hurting me."

"How—how did you do it? Please, tell me how. I beg you... This is a matter of life and death to me."

"Stop this."

He looked ready to drop to his knees. Adelheid pushed him back gently, disturbed by his intensity. Her usually gentle eyes hardened with resolve.