Duke, This Will Sting for a Moment (30 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 7

Yuriella has vanished!

She literally evaporated without leaving a trace.

In the reception room next to the study—where she had been ordered to wait until the Grand Duke rose and called for her—only a neatly emptied three-tier cake tray and muffin crumbs remained.

She must have felt quite full after eating all that. Yet she fled quite nimbly with such a heavy stomach. Frost clicked his tongue inwardly.

“The young lady never once stepped outside the door?”

Frost frowned slowly as he glanced at the knight who had been standing guard. His blue eyes, resembling the deep hue of a lake, were sharp as though veiled in mist.

Instead of the pale knight, whose throat seemed frozen solid, Head Maid Rosalynne stepped forward one pace.

“Except for calling out afterward asking if there were any more macarons, she made no other movements at all.”

“Macarons?”

After eating all that, she wasn’t satisfied and even ordered extra snacks?

“She said sweets are truly the best for recovering from fatigue… and also told the head chef to add plenty of maple syrup from now on.”

“Oh? So she fancies maple syrup, does she?”

Bold of her to run away yet still meddle so freely.

“Yes… and she also instructed that since Your Grace detests sweets, they should be balanced with sour lemon. She claimed it’s commonly mistaken that saltiness counteracts sweetness, but sourness truly neutralizes it…”

As Rosalynne continued, her tongue increasingly tangled. It felt utterly strange even to her—the words supposedly coming from the young lady who had slipped away from the dungeon last night without anyone noticing.

But how on earth had she known that His Grace loathed sweetness so terribly?

“How did she know I hate sweet things?”

Frost, sharing the same suspicion, raised his already slightly arched eyebrows a fraction higher.

Shabelle gently hooked her arm through Frost’s and softly leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Your Grace is the master of the North. It wouldn’t be strange at all if even the wandering medicine peddlers knew your every move.”

Then, fluttering her golden eyelashes lightly, she tilted her head, turning her sharply focused gaze toward the firmly shut window.

“The truly ‘strange’ thing is that there’s no sign at all that the window was ever opened.”

The window of the reception room, which opened into the garden, remained locked—the very lock Captain Leo had secured after instructing Yuriella to wait there.

At that time, Frost had still been asleep, and Leo hadn’t been certain whether this suspicious young lady was the Emperor’s assassin or the only one capable of healing his lord.

“A locked-room escape, then…”

Frost tilted his head slightly away, gently brushing back Shabelle’s abundant blonde hair resting on his shoulder.

Was such a thing even possible?

The Grand Duke’s residence was an impregnable fortress—even the Emperor’s most exceptional assassins, sent merely as idle gifts, never walked out alive once they entered.

Yet how could a mere young lady—so delicate she seemed to break at a touch—accomplish this?

Frost lowered his eyes and fell silent.

Captain Leo subtly took a step backward. Facing his master’s piercing sapphire gaze was less terrifying than the moment when Frost closed his eyes and grew quiet.

Though he had served this man—as childhood playmate, then inseparable friend for over twenty years, and finally as a lord worth dying for—fleeing was unquestionably the right choice at such times.

Look—the Grand Duke was already so displeased that a chilling cold radiated from his entire being.

“I-I’ll immediately dispatch the knights to find the—”

“Forget it. I’ll go myself.”

“What? Yourself? But Your Grace, you’ve only been awake for a few hours!”

Shabelle, too, recoiled in dismay and tried to stop him.

“No, truly, Your Grace! You might collapse again from a sudden malediction flare-up at any moment!”

“Yes! Please take your rest, Your Grace. I shall find the young lady right away—”

Before Leo could finish his sentence, Frost’s fingertips summoned the icy sword Ielo, whose transparent blade emerged wreathed in vivid blue aura.

Hiss! Leo gritted his teeth tightly, terrified by the sudden cold.

Couldn’t you at least give a warning before summoning your sword? Why must you always make my knees buckle in front of everyone?

Hearing the commotion, the Angelus knights rushing into the reception room turned pale and exchanged glances between Frost and Captain Leo—more precisely, at the sapphire-hued holy sword hovering perilously close to the captain’s most precious area!

“Do you have any idea where she might have fled?”

Frost pulled back the blade, spun it idly, then firmly plunged it into the sofa where Yuriella had sat.

“I think I might know already.”

The blue gem adorning the pommel of Ielo, which Frost held, began to vibrate faintly—*woom… woom…*

“You’re not the ones who can find her.”

The vibration spread from the pommel down the grip, coursing through the transparent blade and radiating an intensely bright azure aura from Ielo.

“The young lady, who knows such peculiar healing methods, didn’t leave behind only crumbs.”

The luminous aura emanating from Ielo spread outward in concentric circles, filling the entire reception room.

“It’s the aura of a holy sword.”

Bathed in Ielo’s radiant glow, emerald-green circular trails—imperceptible to the naked eye—became vividly visible around the sofa and the three-tier cake tray.

Traces of green light clearly marked large and small circles on the tabletop, along the sofa’s backrest, and even in the air above.

“Most likely… the holy sword Airy.”

Frost withdrew Ielo from the sofa and tapped its transparent tip against the green motes floating in the air, mingling with dust.

“Remarkable. The Sword of Wind has been missing for five hundred years.”

The holy sword Airy commands wind at will. If its sacred breeze could resurrect the dead, surely sneaking away a single person hidden within its currents was trivial.

“Could Yuriella Grande be Airy’s master? No—that can’t be. If that woman had truly contracted with the Sword of Wind, I, as Ielo’s master, would have sensed its presence.”

Frost muttered questions to himself and answered them, growing ever more absorbed.

Now he had one more reason to catch Yuriella Grande at all costs.

“I’ll be back before sunset.”

Frost called for his steward and hurriedly prepared to go out.

Only a holy sword could track another holy sword’s aura.

Frost swiftly mounted Mars, his massive black warhorse, who neighed joyfully at his master’s return. Squinting against the rare, brilliant northern sunshine, Frost stroked Mars’s gleaming neck.

“A perfect day for hunting.”

A strange glint flickered in Frost’s icy blue eyes as he thought of his prey.

Clear, transparent crimson eyes—like pure, burning flames—flashed vividly in his mind.

That nostalgic hue… reminding him of someone…

It was precisely because of those eyes that he, so unlike himself, hadn’t immediately chased away the bold woman who’d sneaked into his bedroom at midnight, instead teasing her cruelly. Those eyes resembled a color long vanished from this world… though they absolutely shouldn’t.

Enchanted by that gaze, he’d even unwittingly spoken Solace’s name aloud.

[Solace…] [……Solace, what?]

Why? He nearly said it aloud to those clear eyes—almost defended her: it wasn’t Solace’s doing; neither the Holy Sword Flama turning into a demonic blade nor his own brush with death was her fault.

Frost’s sapphire eyes darkened deeply as he clenched his teeth.

“Think later. Hunt first.”

“Yahh!”

Perched atop Mars, who galloped like a gale, Frost leaned forward and spurred his mount onward.

Watching his lord ride away, Captain Leo found the suspicious young lady—whom he’d been grinding his teeth over just hours ago, ready to behead—suddenly, no, deeply pitiful.

Shabelle pulled a handkerchief embroidered with roses from her dress pocket, dabbed away tears already welling up, and stomped her shoe-clad toes on the stair landing.

“I hate you, Your Grace! You didn’t even say you’d return safely to Shabelle! Don’t tell me—you’re already bewitched by that Grande bastard and planning to abandon me? Yuriella, you shameless wench! Just you wait till I catch you—I’ll never forgive you!”

Leo shot Shabelle a sour look as she wallowed in jealous concubine theatrics, then quietly slipped away, embarrassed on her behalf.

*

“Send me back, Airy! Take me back to the Grand Duke!”

I leaped up and down, stretching both arms high toward the sky, trying to grab Airy as she buzzed overhead.

[If you go back… do you really plan to marry the Grand Duke?]

“…”

[Even you think that’s absurd, right? After all, whose fault is it that the Grand Duke ended up like this? And what did you do to his people!]

“…It’s none of your business. Just hurry up and send me back to the Grand Duke.”

[Just leave, Solace. Flee this place with Yuriella’s new father.]

Airy fluttered her translucent emerald wings and dodged just beyond my fingertips.

Behind Airy loomed the inn where the wandering medicine peddlers were staying.

“You idiot. Without me, where would Frost even begin searching?”

[Aaah…!]

In an instant, blinding green light erupted—and the scenery around me changed.

The peak of the Jenis Mountains, where ice never melts even in midsummer—nothing but snow and ice stretched across the barren plain.

The sudden cold made my whole body shiver. My sheer, lace-drenched chiffon dress offered no defense against the icy mountain chill.

[Woah! It’s so refreshingly cool here. Right…?]

Airy, seemingly realizing this wasn’t her intended destination, rolled her tiny eyes guiltily as she watched my reaction.

“Are you really Airy?”

When I looked at her suspiciously, Airy puffed out her chest indignantly and tilted her sharp chin upward.

[Of course! Consider yourself honored!]

The miniature figure resembling a doll young girls play with perched on my shoulder, folding her translucent wings.

“For five hundred years, no one has witnessed my noble form—not until I condescended to grant a contract to a lowly human, one whose soul and body are barely connected.”

“You look far too small and insignificant for a holy sword spirit. Flama was huge and incredibly majestic.”

[Don’t you dare compare me to Flama!]

Airy kicked off my shoulder, fluttered up, and circled above my head, shouting so loudly my ears rang.

[This form is merely a fragment! My true form is actually amazing! You’d be shocked! I’m a full measure taller than Flama and far stronger! Among all holy swords, I’m the greatest!]

She ranted furiously, her tiny body practically bursting with frustration, insisting that once she recovered her hidden true body, the world would be astounded.

“Where did you hide your true body?”

[……]

“Why won’t you answer? Don’t tell me—you forgot where you hid it?”

Airy’s circling slowed noticeably in midair.

[……]

Oh dear. She really forgot.

“You’re such a fool.”

[…If I’m a fool, then you’re a fool too for contracting with me!]

“I told you—I never agreed to contract with you!”

[You…! But it was my healing power that cured your patients! That saved Frost from the brink of death!]

“You forced it into me against my will! And as for Frost, you only kept him barely alive—the malediction still remains in his body.”

[But still…]

“Why should I trust you enough to form a contract? You don’t even know where your true body is. This isn’t your original spirit form—just a tiny fragment. What use are you to me?”

[Yuriella is ungrateful! Even when helped, she shows no gratitude!]

“Oh. I suppose you’re good for fanning me. But right now, I’m freezing! If you’re not going to send me back to the Grand Duke, then please stay far away from me.”

[Yuriella, I hate you!]

Airy huffed dramatically, pouting as she fluttered away—but still worried about leaving me entirely, she settled atop the farthest ice boulder within sight and turned her back to me with a huff.

I don’t truly doubt that this noisy spirit is Airy, the Sword of Wind.

Without her true body or original spirit form, she granted me healing powers and concealed me within the wind to bring me here—surely no ordinary spirit could accomplish that.

But this is as far as it goes.

I could sense that Airy had exhausted her strength—now she couldn’t even take me down the mountain, let alone back to the Grand Duke.

Half of her indignant huffs were clearly from overusing her power.

Her pride was too strong to ever admit she was tired.

Our Flama was incredibly proud too…

‘Flama…’

On battlefields reeking of blood, when I wandered alone gathering the mangled corpses of comrades who’d laughed and shared drinks with me just the night before—there you always appeared: a beautiful crimson phoenix, silently offering comfort…

My only friend…

‘What on earth did the Emperor do to you…’