STVWDTD Chapter 21

Why Are You Here

"Sis. It's here too!"

Good grief. The treasure vault was absolutely a treasure vault.

"Noel, there's so much here. Right?"

"Yeah!"

Why did he love this more than I did? Diana smiled watching Noel's radiant face, caught up in his joy despite herself.

Diana had asked the Duke for permission to enter the family's secret repository. She wasn't even engaged to Rodrick yet, technically just an outsider, which made the request monumentally impertinent. She hadn't expected him to hand over an entire ring of keys.

The consequence was the steward and attendants getting thrown into chaos all over again—but the Duke didn't care, and neither did Diana.

"Why does this house have so many cursed objects?"

The vault contained everything: heirlooms and ancient artifacts, weapons of every conceivable type, artwork, trophies of conquest. It was like walking through a museum exhibit.

The collections were sorted by category, meticulously organized. No dust. No staleness in the air, despite the lack of visible ventilation. Whoever maintained this deserved sainthood.

The Duchess had delegated every task of household management to the steward during her lifetime, or so they said. A man who looked like a knight handling such delicate work—that was unexpected.

"Sis. Sis."

Noel was busy mapping the mana signatures scattered throughout the vault, his small form moving with determined purpose. He grabbed Diana's hand and dragged her toward the artifact that burned brightest—an emerald necklace that shimmered with every color imaginable inside a glass case. The case probably cost more than the necklace.

Using the key the Duke provided, Diana unlocked it and touched the piece. Mana seeped from it into her fingertips, spreading through her body like ink through water. Her faded pink eyes sharpened as color bled back into them.

"Mm. I think this should be enough for today."

The quantity was staggering. With this many cursed objects to work through, she'd have no problem maintaining basic function until Rodrick returned.

"Noel, do I still look sick?"

Noel's eyes went wide. He rolled those red eyes to the side, clearly wrestling with something.

"Um. N-no. Sister's pretty."

So yes, she still looked like death warmed over. But Noel couldn't lie, which made his awkwardness adorable. Diana pinched his round cheeks gently.

"Hehe."

He laughed at that minimal touch—pure delight.

She bent down and rubbed her face against his soft cheeks, but when she straightened and looked ahead again, her expression darkened.

She'd told the Duke she wasn't in pain. He'd seen through it anyway, assigned a personal physician, and started forcing bitter medicine down her throat on schedule. She hated the medicine. The taste lingered metallic and foul on her tongue even after candied fruit, making her grimace without permission.

The Duke had figured it out: no curse absorption meant her body broke. She'd let him see that much.

But the critical fact remained hidden. The one that mattered.

"Noel, does not using magic ever feel limiting? Frustrating?"

The knowledge that she'd die without absorbing curses—and that Noel could actually use magic—both stayed buried. In this era, mages were rare enough to be weapons. If that information leaked, she couldn't predict what would happen to the boy.

Rodrick knew. He'd chosen not to tell the Duke.

"It's fine! When I don't use magic, mana builds up in my body. Later I can cast something really big!"

No. Noel. You'll never cast anything big.

Diana swallowed the words and ruffled his hair affectionately instead. The boy needed constant reassurance about his value, terrified she'd abandon him if he wasn't useful. So she held him. Told him he mattered without doing anything. That she loved him as he was.

When she whispered it close enough to hear, he'd cry and laugh simultaneously, clutching her tight and refusing to let go.

The repetition was working. He was starting to believe her.

"Sis, sis. Look at this knight's armor. The wrist joint is loose."

Full plate armor with helmet, standing empty on a pedestal yet somehow alive with potential. Like it might animate any second.

"Really?"

That was usually the mechanism for hidden passages. How did an untaught child notice what most wouldn't see from feet away?

"Do you want to try?"

"Yeah!"

So he just wanted to touch it. Adorable. She stroked his silver-grey hair and lifted him toward the loose joint at the gauntlet's wrist.

Noel twisted the metal. Click-click-click—the wall behind the armor dissolved and a passage opened, lined with candlesticks that flared to life one by one down the length of the tunnel. A guide of gentle flame for whoever entered.

Diana's eyes narrowed.

What lay down there? Unimaginable treasure? Family secrets? Or something worse—an object of power cursed so thoroughly it needed an entire mechanism built just to contain it?

The passage was dimly lit but functional. Not frightening. Not yet.

"Want to explore?"

Noel's head snapped up in eager agreement. "Let's!"

They didn't make it far before Diana regretted everything.

Where am I? Where the hell am I?

Diana's face twisted in distress as she searched for the boy she'd just lost.

"Noel, where are you!"

The tunnel was larger and more complex than anticipated. An actual labyrinth. She moved forward blindly and the mana density in the air thickened until it made her skin prickle. Temperature dropped. Goosebumps scattered across her arms.

Whiiiing—wind leaked in from somewhere, creating an atmosphere that screamed wrong wrong wrong.

Diana pushed through her panic, hunting. No ghosts. No ghosts. There are no such thing as ghosts.

She repeated it like prayer, walking through the massive tunnel half-convinced something was about to materialize directly in front of her.

How long had she been walking? Candles began to flicker, though the air was still.

Terrible sign. This was when things jumped out.

Diana's face fell. Sure enough—

[Beatus?]

A breath of wind like someone whispering. Diana shrieked, scrambled backward, and dropped straight onto her backside.

Noel, holding Diana's hand as they'd entered the secret passage, tilted his head in confusion.

That familiar mana was calling him. Pulling.

He'd found the armor's loose joint because of it—the residual mana emanating through the stone wall.

"What was this place built for?"

He followed the passages, letting the familiar power guide him. Multiple paths branched ahead. He chose instinctively, red eyes tracking signatures only he could perceive. Diana followed without noticing his minute directional shifts.

Mana pooled everywhere, thick enough that she remained blind to his subtle navigation.

Then—a voice. Achingly familiar.

[Noel?]

Noel's pupils dilated. His heart slammed against his ribs hard enough to hurt.

[Noel.]

"Noel! Don't go!"

Diana called behind him, but he was already running toward the voice. Away from her. His heart refused control. His body moved first.

"Huff... huff..."

How long had he run? His smaller frame hit physical limits fast. But he kept moving toward that voice, toward the sound like home.

[Noel.]

He stopped.

At the tunnel's end hung a life-sized portrait in a frame. Realistic enough to believe he was looking at the actual woman, not paint.

Come here. I've been waiting for you. The woman in the portrait smiled like she was saying it.

Tears pooled in his wide eyes. Shock hit him like a physical force.

Crack—the seal on his heart fractured. Memories spilled out.

"Why."

His face twisted.

"Why. Are you here."

His voice shattered. He stepped toward the portrait. Reached out. Touched the rough canvas.

Familiar mana seeped into him—and suddenly he wasn't a child anymore.

The man stared at the portrait of the woman, and tears carved paths down his face.

"Why are you here. Why. Why! Why are you in Schwartz Castle!"

The portrait didn't answer. He wept at it, at the silence, at the cruel reality of her image on a wall.

"I missed you so much."

His red eyes opened wide, pupils vertical like a reptile's.

"Did that bastard bring you here? That Schwartz scum?"

Everything made sense now. The fact that he'd been searching for her, and her trace was here—that meant everything was Schwartz's doing.

He dared to touch what's mine.

The ground shook like an earthquake as his rage manifested.

[Noel. Stop.]

That voice again. The one he'd been dying to hear. Trapped in a portrait.

He smiled at her, helpless and aching. Time was running out. When his body reverted, the memories would fragment. He wouldn't remember clearly.

"Beatus. I met that child. They're treating me so well. Don't worry."

I won't die. I'll keep living.

The sentence hung as his body shrunk, and behind him he heard Diana calling—

"Noel!"

Diana blinked like she'd been watching an illusion. Had she? The boy had almost looked like a beautiful young man.

But then she saw his tears—fat droplets rolling down his small cheeks—and all other thought evaporated.

"Noel, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

She ignored the chill crawling up her spine and gathered him close.

The boy sobbed against her shoulder like his heart was breaking. He couldn't explain why.

Diana didn't bother asking. She just held him and swayed gently, letting him cry. That feeling of being watched made her glance up—

"—!"

She stopped breathing.

She'd been so focused on Noel she hadn't noticed. A portrait. A woman in a dress from generations past, purple hair loose past her shoulders, smiling at someone with bright, welcoming joy.

It felt like she was making direct eye contact.

Pink eyes.

Beneath delicate lashes rendered in careful brushstrokes lay eyes the color of diluted rose. Not the vivid red her brothers carried—marked by the Beatus line. These were different. These looked like hers.

"Pink..."

Diana stared at her own reflection in an ancestor she'd never met.