Chapter 20
“Baron Craig, this sword is now mine, and I will do with it as I please.”
“However, you must perform the blood ritual to become the sword’s master.”
“Very well, then I’ll do just that.”
Damon took the magic sword out of its box and made a small cut on Valentine’s ring finger.
Even as a drop of blood fell onto the sword, it did not react.
‘Is it because his body is so weak?’
Still, he could not stop the ritual, so Damon began reciting the incantation.
“I command you as the master of this sword. Protect the light of my life from death…”
Valentine’s lips did not move at all to follow the words.
Instead, from the far side of the greenhouse, Clarissa’s voice echoed.
“I command you as the master of this sword. Protect the light of my life from death…”
Seeing Clarissa approaching, Damon narrowed his eyes fiercely.
Why was she here? And what was she trying to do now?
Her pale pink dress clung to her body from the rain, and her elaborately pinned-up hair had come loose, cascading over her shoulders.
Having endured being wet for so long, she seemed exhausted; her face was completely pale.
Yet her bright violet eyes burned vividly, almost arrogantly.
As Clarissa walked toward him with her chin raised and a proud air, Damon felt a fury akin to murderous intent.
Valentine grabbed Damon’s arm, which was tensing as he prepared to lunge.
“Continue, Baron Craig.”
“Your Highness! Why would you give the magic sword to Clarissa? What on earth is—Clarissa!”
“I command you. Continue the incantation, Damon Craig.”
Valentine’s solemn order made Damon grit his teeth. He had planned all of this, yet Clarissa was ruining it.
The problem was that not only Valentine but also his stepfather, Murray Craig, had gone along with her scheme.
‘My god… then that cut on the ring finger that day—was that the result of the blood ritual?’
He remembered the bandage on Clarissa’s finger when she had traveled to the remote village to meet Murray.
Anger surged, his vision went white, and he clenched his teeth tightly.
“Damon Craig! You said you would give your wife to me. Rather than having the sword and your wife separately, I’ll take both at once.”
“…!”
“Hurry, finish the incantation. This is my final command, Baron Craig.”
He could not risk destroying the trust he had carefully built—Valentine was necessary for his revenge.
Damon glared fiercely at Clarissa and recited the remaining incantation.
“May you be with me forever.”
“…May you be with me forever.”
After the incantation, Clarissa reached out and touched the magic sword.
A dazzling light poured out, and the sword seemed to melt and dissolve into her palm.
Her body swayed violently at that moment.
“Ugh…”
Her body trembled as the magical energy coursed through her. Holding onto the chair arm for support, Clarissa managed a faint smile.
“…Done!”
“You will regret this, Clarissa, whatever your intention.”
“Divorce.”
“What?”
“Please… divorce me.”
This was not the woman who had clung and begged for love. She looked at him like a stranger, her gaze cold and contemptuous.
“I can no longer live with you.”
“Our conversation can wait…”
“No, we’ll do it here. I heard everything you said to His Highness the Crown Prince. You were right. You were a man who needed no wife. It must have been hard. Even though I lived as if I were dead and nonexistent, you said that to me, and I couldn’t stand it.”
“…”
“So let’s end this here. Thank you for everything.”
With those words, Clarissa collapsed unconscious.
Damon, who was closest, reached out and caught her in his arms.
“Clarissa!”
Valentine suddenly rose and took her from Damon as if to hold her himself.
‘He called her Clarissa, not the Baroness?’
Realizing something was wrong, Damon reached for her again, but Valentine had already taken her to a chair.
Through her rain-soaked dress, her pale skin showed faintly, and her loose blonde hair draped over Valentine’s arm.
Damon’s eyes flared with fire. His chest hurt as if it were about to burst.
“Baron Craig, why has Clarissa lost consciousness?”
“…It must be the magical energy swirling within her. She will awaken soon.”
“Let it be as you say… Clarissa.”
Valentine, always composed and a model of dignity, carefully brushed the wet hair from her face, unsure of what to do.
The commotion inside the greenhouse must have carried outside, for Royal Knight Commander Edwin entered.
“Your Highness, what has happened?”
“Edwin, the Baroness has lost consciousness. Quietly bring the royal carriage. She needs to be taken to a doctor.”
“Understood.”
Edwin dashed out of the greenhouse like the wind.
“Clarissa, wake up. Please, open your eyes and look at me.”
Valentine seemed desperate, as if afraid she might suddenly die like the poisoned empress.
Though, in truth, someone else was more troubled…
Late at night, a carriage stopped in front of the Middletown mansion.
“You’re here, Master… What of the Lady?”
The butler, who had come to greet the master and mistress, tilted his head when Damon stepped down and the carriage door closed.
“Seems she’ll be late. Should we send the carriage back to fetch the Lady?”
Clarissa had not yet returned, so the butler needed to ask whether the carriage should be sent to the Racton mansion.
Without a word, Damon entered the house.
Sensing the unusual atmosphere, the butler scratched the back of his head and muttered,
“What could have happened?”
He approached Millen, who had dismounted from his horse to guard the carriage.
“The Lady will not come?”
“Correct.”
“Then she’ll stay at her family home. Should I send the carriage tomorrow?”
At the Middletown mansion, the butler’s role was strictly to manage the Lady’s household. He was not allowed into the master’s west wing, nor did he know anything of their affairs.
“Until instructed otherwise, it seems unnecessary.”
The butler was puzzled by Millen’s words.
“So the Lady will not return tomorrow either?”
“Most likely. I will take my leave.”
Millen ran into the mansion, leaving the butler with nothing to do.
“Gosling.”
The butler was startled as Damon, standing silently in the lobby, called him.
“Yes, Master.”
“When did the Lady… change?”
Damon, who normally vanished like a breeze into the west wing upon arrival, slowly turned toward the east wing, the Lady’s domain.
The butler, caught off guard by Damon’s curiosity about Clarissa, stammered.
“Th-That… has been a while. But you’ve only just noticed…”
“Enough. I’ll see for myself.”
Without further ado, Damon strode toward the east wing.
Since the Lady had moved in, this was the first time such a thing had happened, and the butler’s heart pounded.
Damon’s steps led straight to Clarissa’s bedroom at the far east end of the second floor.
He seemed ready to barge in but, strangely, stopped in front of the door.
“What am I doing right now?”
“…Eh? What do you mean?”
“A mere woman’s change of heart… at this hour… unbelievable.”
With a grim voice and expression, Damon roughly brushed his hair back.
“I won’t concern myself with it.”
Muttering to the empty air, he headed to the parlor next to the bedroom.
The parlor was dark and eerie, all lights extinguished.
With no one expected at this hour, Damon walked to the sofa and sat, sighing deeply.
He looked like a defeated soldier, lost and wandering, unaware of how he appeared.
After the pre-engagement party ended and everyone left, Duke Racton’s eldest son, Frederick, stirred from the shadows of the dreary hall.
A maid, startled, dropped a champagne glass.
Shards would have clinked, yet Frederick did not turn; he exited to the terrace.
Leaping over the railing, he headed toward the greenhouse in the pouring rain.
Amid the plants, his sharp eyes caught a handkerchief.
Bending to pick it up, he buried his face in it and inhaled deeply.
‘Clarissa…’
Her scent was unmistakable. He had watched her the entire day, only briefly looking away at Duke Racton’s call, and had lost her.
After that, she was nowhere to be seen. He had even checked the dungeon, fearing Aileen had locked her up, but found no trace.
Knowing Clarissa liked the greenhouse, he had waited until the end of the party and came here—and it seemed she had spent a long time here.
“You regret leaving this place, don’t you?”
When Clarissa had agreed to marry Damon Craig, Frederick had led men to raid Craig’s merchant office, planning to kill Damon and burn the office to stage a robbery.
Just imagining Clarissa’s devastated face as a widow brought him satisfaction.
If rumors spread that she had ruined her fiancé, she would never be proposed to again and would be trapped in the duchy until her death.
He could have her by his side for life.
He had not particularly loved her, only believed she was part of this mansion and would become his in the future.
The marble floors she had brushed with her skirts, the stair rail she had touched, the terrace where she had quietly smiled—all were here, and so she should be here as well.
“Clarissa, were you crying in the greenhouse? Your handkerchief is damp.”
Watching her closely during the party, he had uncovered the hidden truth.
Clarissa wanted to escape Damon Craig!
“I told you, if you ran away from me, you’d be unhappy. Now I’ll bring you back. I’ll love you.”
With a chilling smile, Frederick clutched Clarissa’s handkerchief tightly.
