STVWDTD Chapter 28

Chilling Coldness Is More Terrifying Than Explosive Madness

His cold face showed no emotion, but his brilliantly blue eyes held only fury.

His fist, clenched so tight his black leather gloves might burst, targeted the knight who hadn't finished his last words.

Everyone froze, unable to speak, when one by one they regained their senses.

But no one opened their mouth. Especially the knights who'd run their mouths wrong—they trembled, sinking to the ground.

It was one-sided. So utterly one-sided it rendered opponents helpless, and he showed no mercy.

No sword, only fists. They'd saved their lives for now, but his appearance reeking of cruel bloodshed was exactly the Black Reaper of battlefields.

That infamous figure who made every enemy face deep despair.

One, two. In turn, those who'd spewed filth had mouths split, noses burst, teeth scattering like rain. And that wasn't all. Once faces were completely pulverized, bodies came next.

One knight whose turn was next, face drained of color, screamed toward the elite knights whose role was stopping his madness:

"Why, why aren't you stopping him!"

The subordinates watching Rodrick quietly—hack, ptoo—spat into the dirt.

"Look at this bastard. Got some nerve."

"Why should we?"

"Shameless prick. Be grateful your tongue wasn't cut out."

No one pitied them. Just watched. The knight, chalk-white with extreme terror, tried to flee.

"P-please spare me... gck!"

But escape wasn't permitted. He couldn't evade those beast-like senses.

Strangely, he wasn't consumed by madness. Seeing blood, he neither craved nor desired it. His mind was clearer than ever. Which made it feel even more acute.

The vicious displeasure wrapping his entire body.

More unpleasant because it happened in his domain. The fascination curse settled among them made him increasingly merciless, but no one knew.

Within the rippling fascination curse, his fury-filled fists didn't stop.

"Whew—"

Nathan, far from them, whistled while appreciating Rodrick's display.

"Still not dead~ Black Reaper."

"You're not intervening?"

When Nathan, who Felice expected would rush forward drawing his sword first, remained still, Felice asked, surprised.

"Why would I? If I step in, those things die immediately."

How dare they put my sister's name in their mouths? He was restraining himself, in his own way.

They were someone else's household, and causing real bloodshed in Diana's castle would probably earn him an earful.

Inside the castle, he'd leave it to Rodrick for now. The moment they left the castle grounds, his turn.

"Look, he's dislocating every joint right now. I can't put in that much effort."

So Diana influences this bastard that much. Nathan clicked his tongue, taste turned bitter. Still won't allow it, you bastard.

"That one's also a crazy bastard, you know? Who'd do such tedious work? Just end it in one stroke with a blade."

Felice nodded in complete agreement. Though his own brother, he was terrifyingly frightening.

To anyone's eyes, he maintained full consciousness, not consumed by madness. That's why his subordinates only stood watching.

Not a dangerous situation. Rather, if Rodrick hadn't arrived with good timing, they would've stepped in.

"Wow, first time seeing the Commander this angry."

"Shut up. The Captain's hearing everything right now. Times like this, you stay quiet."

"But those bastards deserve the beating."

Only Rodrick, Nathan, Felice, and his direct subordinates had properly heard what the Second Knight Order said. The rest remained bewildered about what was happening.

How much time passed? Not even pained groans could be heard. Men sprawled like corpses, bloody pulps.

Removing his blood-soaked gloves, he spoke quietly.

"Everyone assemble."

Assemble! They echoed, gathering in the training grounds. His head tilted crookedly as he changed to new gloves. His thick neckline stood out. His gaze went first to Felice.

"Felice Schwartz."

Felice answered like a thoroughly disciplined new recruit at attention.

"Yes!"

"You're not managing the castle properly."

"I apologize."

Formal speech burst out automatically. Felice bit the inside of his mouth, chewing over his mistake.

He'd acted to keep it from Rodrick's ears, but too late. He hadn't known troublemakers existed not just among servants but within the knights.

"You and I will talk later."

Rodrick's words, spoken while looking down at Felice's bowed head as he stood close, passed chillingly down his neck.

"...!"

Startled, Felice snapped his head up to look at Rodrick. He'd already passed by, back turned.

Felice stared at his brother's back with a tearful expression.

'No. "We'll talk later" is the scariest thing...! Brother!'

If not for the knight order, he'd have grabbed his pant leg and bawled. Getting beaten here and now would've been better.

Rodrick's gaze next went to the Second Knight Order's commander. Rodrick said nothing, made no reproach.

Under that silent stare, the Second Knight Commander broke into cold sweat. He'd also heard what his subordinates said. He couldn't dare rebel by attacking him for touching his subordinates.

Who across all directions could stand against Rodrick, who stood at the pinnacle of battlefields?

"You have complaints?"

Reading that fleeting expression, he asked. The startled Second Knight Commander answered:

"No. I apologize."

"For what?"

"I didn't manage my subordinates well."

"Then you have no complaints."

"Pardon?"

At the bewildered question, his next gaze went to Nathan, standing apart from the assembled knight orders.

What? Nathan stood with arms crossed, looking quite displeased. Rodrick's following words were simple.

"Nathan. I'm leaving it to you."

Huh. Nathan, who'd been preparing to curse him out, awkwardly uncrossed his arms. Understanding his meaning, Nathan grinned wickedly.

"I can?"

Rodrick passed the beaming face, stopping his steps briefly.

"Half-kill them."

"Hmm, difficult, but I'll try."

This was unprecedented. He'd entrusted his domain to another, an outsider at that.

Controlled coldness chilled people's hearts more than explosive madness.

Leaving the strutting Nathan behind, he left the training grounds.

Daren followed. Watching his lord's retreating back silently, Daren swallowed his grievance.

He'd never imagined a scandal with Diana would arise. He hadn't known until the Second Knight Order bastards gossiped. Surely he doesn't believe it?

"Daren."

"Yes."

Daren answered tensely.

"That garbage rumor. Confirm the source."

"Understood."

"Regardless of facts."

At the slowly drawled words, Daren's steps halted. He turned to look at Daren.

"If I'd truly gone mad with the curse, I'd have killed you first."

Shadow fell across his face, dark murderous intent settling. Daren could instinctively tell it wasn't empty words. Daren gulped at the chill.

His face seemed to say: Even now, I want to beat you to death just for being linked with Diana.

"...I apologize."

Thud, thud. The sound of boot steps, like something suppressed, echoed through the corridor.

CRACK—! As if representing his mood, lightning struck from the darkened sky.

Flash—darkness settled where the light vanished.

Still wrapped in unpleasant sensations, he seemed to maintain reason outwardly. But his body was being used by the curse without his knowledge.

His body moved unconsciously in one direction. Led as if drawn, he arrived before the archive.

The door opened as if waiting for him, though he hadn't inserted a key.

CRACK—! The air tore with explosive sound, flashing. Soon raindrops began falling one by one on the glass greenhouse, then torrential rain started.

The rain seemed to devour all sounds in the world.

"You refused all the tea parties I invited you to, so why'd you call me here?"

Diana had declined the tea party inviting young ladies of northern high society.

Thought I'd humiliate her, but. Tsk. At Irin's irritated words, Diana, seated opposite, lifted her teacup with elegant grace.

"Ignoring me again?"

Diana, savoring her tea, set down her cup with a clink.

"Lady Irin of the Count's family."

What? Why suddenly use my name? Irin, frowning, stiffened at the following words.

"You know my status, don't you?"

"What, what rudeness? Why are you speaking informally?"

"Ah, pardon me."

Though apologizing, Diana's attitude showed no remorse whatsoever. Irin's mouth corners trembled.

"Look here."

"Not 'look here.' Lady of the Beatus Duchy."

That name's weight was felt more keenly by lower ranks. But Irin didn't bow her head—she looked at Diana defiantly.

Right, so you know.

At the smile worn as if scornful, Irin seemed indignant. A gentle voice flowed between smoothly curved lips.

"What are you trusting to act like this? Lady Count."

No power, yet why so cocky?

"Isn't the duchy lady hiding her name and using Commander Rodrick as backing because she can't use her family's power?"

'Aren't you the powerless one rolling around with your body?'

"..."

Diana showed no reaction, though she must've understood her meaning.

'Ha, must have nothing to say since it's true.'

Irin grew smug. So she didn't notice Diana rolling the silver fork in her palm.

It was a habitual action.

In the Beatus household, every tool in hand became an assassination tool. Can't let guard down for a moment. Had to live in continuous tension.

Mind thinking other thoughts, body faithfully prepared to counter attacks—that's why she rolled tools.

Even Nathan stayed alert when she slipped into unconsciousness.

Rolling the fork in her palm, pink eyes faithfully tracked the red energy surrounding Irin. Training to read mana made it clear.

'She's not carrying the curse medium on her body. Nasty stuff.'

Irin, from whom nothing had been felt before, reeked enough to stink. If she leave that alone, won't it get absorbed by Rodrick? Then the day she absorbed his curse again, the same pain would repeat.

Absolutely not. As she'd told Nathan, her own body was most precious.

Threaten her? No, judging by that stubborn attitude, she wouldn't reveal the medium's identity either. Better warn her and send her back, then search the room.

"Lady Irin of the Count's family."

"Speak. Lady of the Beatus Duchy."

Irin held her head stiffly high. Acting as if she were already the duchess had become ingrained.

To Diana, it seemed merely ridiculous. Gutsy.

"What you're doing. Do you think Duke His Grace doesn't know? You even held a tea party without permission, quite boldly?"

"From how he's tolerated it, don't you get it? He's already given permission."

Is that really permission? The duke seemed to be letting Irin's behavior slide while building up grounds to expel her, one by one. To explode it all at once.

"Just because servants all follow you, you think this castle became yours?"

"Ha, why? Jealous?"

The more she spoke, the more red energy surrounding Irin stoked her emotions.

"Don't tell me you called me here to lecture? You think you're something here?!"

Like pouring oil on fire, the red mana incited Irin. Her pulse quickening with excitement, words came out unchecked. And finally, she made the slip she shouldn't have made.

"I think you're already mistaken that you've become the blood-crazed beast's wife...!"

BANG! What happened in an instant froze Irin.

Fingers resting on the table. Right in front of them, the fork Diana had been rolling embedded itself. The fork, narrowly missing contact, pierced into the wooden table, standing upright.

Irin clutched her wildly pounding heart, looking once at the threatening fork, then raising her gaze to Diana. She was smiling.

"Watch your mouth. Lady."

But her eyes weren't smiling.

"Can't talk about someone else's man like that. Right?"