However, Demian did not die this time either.

He crossed over to the Roshan Kingdom alone and awakened as a Sword Master through relentless effort amidst countless assassination threats.

He became strong, as his mother had told him to.

Demian’s sole goal as he practiced swordsmanship day and night in the Roshan Kingdom, where he could barely communicate, was just one thing.

To take revenge on the Vandermir family who drove his mother to her death.

Their betrayal and deception had dragged Monica into the mire and ultimately led to her murder. If it weren’t for them, his mother would never have chosen death.

He could never forgive them.

Demian, who swore revenge, returned to the Setron Empire after becoming an adult and founded the Red Hawk Knights, reaching his current position.

Once he seized the Duke’s position and occupied the Duke’s estate, he intended to drive out all four of them.

And he vowed to never love anyone, never start a family, and directly end the bloodline to dismantle the family.

His hatred and disgust for the Duke’s family, who built a happy home among themselves based on someone else’s sacrifice, led him to make such a decision.

Moreover, having witnessed with his own eyes the fate that befell his mother, who loved and sacrificed everything for his father, he did not believe in love.

For there was no emotion that made people more miserable than that.

Although Arasila’s appearance had thwarted his resolve to never marry, he was determined to keep the rest of his vows.

He would surely cut off this detestable bloodline with his own hands.

Demian knew well that Arasila might not fully understand him emotionally, and how pitifully she might view his unfortunate childhood.

But it seems he unknowingly wanted to confide in someone at least once.

After finishing the story, what washed over him was not regret or shame, but relief.

“Though unintended, I think my existence contributed to my mother’s death.”

“……”

“If only I hadn’t existed, my mother could have attempted divorce.”

Count Rond, who rushed over belatedly upon hearing the news of Monica’s death, had lamented so in front of his grandson.

That if only Demian hadn’t been born, Monica wouldn’t have died like this.

While saying this, he looked at his grandson, who closely resembled Duke Vandermir, with eyes of loathing.

Since then, Demian felt guilty, wondering if he had been like shackles to his mother. Anyway, he couldn’t shake the thought that he too was a Vandermir who ruined his mother’s life.

“The Vandermir blood flowing through my body is utterly horrifying. They say a person’s nature is inherited through blood, so who knows if I’ll become as terrible as my father.”

Demian spoke self-deprecatingly. Unfortunately, because he closely resembled his father, he didn’t like himself, with only his eyes remaining as traces of his mother.

Deep inside, there was self-loathing towards himself, who outwardly looked every bit a Vandermir descendant.

“In the end, I too am selfish like my father and……”

Just as he was about to continue with more self-deprecating remarks.

Smack!

Arasila suddenly reached out and flicked Demian’s forehead. Caught off guard, Demian blinked his eyes.

Not because it hurt, but because he was startled.

Arasila spoke in a clear voice towards Demian, who was staring at her blankly.

“What kind of foolish thoughts are these?”

“……”

“Blood ties or whatever, what kind of person you become is something you decide for yourself.”

Just because blood is connected doesn’t mean everyone walks the same path.

In any aspect, the path one walks must be determined and pioneered by oneself – this was the firm belief Arasila had held since childhood.

She gently stroked Demian’s slightly reddened forehead and spoke again.

“Even if not half, but all of your blood came from the Duke, you could still become a person sufficiently different from him.”

“……How can you be so sure?”

“Because you’re already different.”

Demian was visibly shaken by that calm and unwavering response.

He had always tried to break free from the shadow cast by the Vandermir bloodline. After all, he didn’t want to become like those who drove his mother to her death.

But he doubted whether he, who resembled his father too much, could truly walk a completely different path.

Yet Arasila so easily shattered that doubt. As their eyes met, she smiled brightly and said:

“You’re a bit of a weirdo, annoying, sometimes oblivious, and seem to only care about yourself. But objectively, you’re not a bad person.”

“……From your description just now, I sound like a bad person.”

“Ahaha, is that so? But I really think that way. Demian, you know how to apologize for your mistakes and consider others’ feelings.”

So far, Demian had made several mistakes towards Arasila, but he always acknowledged his faults and apologized.

That’s why his relationship with Arasila hadn’t fallen apart and had come this far.

This alone was a huge difference from his father, who deceived and betrayed his wife.

The cool night breeze brushed past the two. Arasila rested her chin on her knees and spoke softly.

“And you’re not to blame for your mother’s death. Before assuming what might have happened if you didn’t exist, the adults around should have lived properly.”

When his mother died, Demian was only seven years old. He wasn’t born because he wanted to be, nor did he choose to have such a father.

It was unreasonable and cruel to ask a child who grew up scarred among cowardly adults to share that guilt.

“So don’t blame yourself. Honestly, I think it’s amazing that you’ve come this far alone seeking revenge.”

“……Are you not bothered by the fact that I’m seeking revenge against my family?”

Demian, who had been quietly listening to her, asked slowly.

People tend to understand and empathize based on their own experiences. So someone like Arasila, who grew up in a harmonious family, might find it strange and odd that he wanted to take revenge on his family.

Perhaps she might think – they’re still family, why not resolve things through good communication and reconciliation?

“Don’t I seem too extreme, wanting to ruin the entire family?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Arasila answered without a hint of hesitation. To begin with, who was she to judge him like that? Everyone has their own circumstances.

Demian stared at her intently, and after a moment of silence, he said:

“My grandfather, the previous Duke, told me not to think about revenge. He said not to waste my life on such things… What do you think?”

He hoped Demian wouldn’t waste his life trapped by the desire for revenge. Not daring to tell him to forgive the Duke’s family, but just wishing he would bury it all and live his own life.

Arasila nodded as if she understood the previous Duke’s words, but casually remarked:

“If you want to live your life your own way, why should others’ opinions matter?”

“……”

“What’s wrong with seeking some revenge? Not everyone lives motivated by positive emotions.”

Not everyone follows the righteous path. Sometimes, people take action for themselves even knowing it might be wrong.

That’s why Arasila didn’t want to offer half-baked advice to Demian.

Rather than telling him not to seek revenge for his own good, she hoped he would do as he wished and live comfortably without any lingering resentment in his heart.

“If someone wrongs me, I pay them back double. I absolutely can’t live after being wronged.”

“……”

“Honestly, if it were me, I would have already burned down the castle with magic. What’s a castle? I would have burned their heads too and made them all bald.”

Seeing Arasila speak so seriously, Demian laughed with a deflating sound.

For the first time, his heart, which had been heavy throughout his life, felt lighter. He felt as if he had become an ordinary person just like others.

Not a vengeful ghost embittered by an unfortunate family history.

“Hmm, but we should head back now, right? It’s gotten quite late.”

Arasila stood up first, dusting off her bottom, and extended her hand to Demian. Demian silently grasped that white, slender hand.

The two picked up the sword and staff strewn on the ground. As they walked back to the castle together under the bright moonlight, Demian suddenly spoke up.

“My lady, if by any chance I ever change to become like my father in the future…”

“Yes?”

“Could you help me then?”

In a relationship with a set end, vague and unpromisable words like ‘later’ were a luxury.

Knowing this, Demian still wanted to ask. If later, that is, long after their contract marriage ended, she could still reach out her hand like now.

Arasila stopped walking for a moment. Demian looked back at her from a couple of steps ahead, slightly tense.

As their eyes met, Arasila readily nodded.

“Of course. Don’t worry.”

“……”

“I’ll smack some sense into you like I did today, if needed.”

She winked and smiled. Demian couldn’t take his eyes off her smile, like a flower bud blooming with dew.

Strangely, his heart sank and then surged up again.

A fluttering he had never felt before in his life spread throughout his body. He instinctively placed his hand on his left chest.

His heart was beating wildly.

As her birthday approached, the Duchess was busy preparing for the party.

Since she had purposely invited the Demian couple, she paid meticulous attention to even small details to make it as grand and splendid as possible.

Thanks to this, many people crossed her threshold seeking her approval or permission.

Vicky blended in naturally among them, coming and going from the Duchess’s room.

As it happened, they were short-handed due to party preparations, so no one found it strange that she, Arasila’s attendant, was cleaning the Duchess’s room.

She seized her opportunity when the Duchess briefly fell asleep for a nap.

Vicky quickly searched for the key to the previous Duchess’s room. Knowing it was always kept in the second drawer on the left side of the vanity, it was an easy task.

However, she was worried about how to unlock it, but luckily, the drawer’s lock was already undone.

The Duchess, who had been bustling about all morning, had taken something else out and forgotten about it.

Vicky hid the key in her pocket and rushed out of the room to Arasila.

“Young Madam! I’ve brought the key!”

She had been using the correct title since being bribed by Arasila.

Vicky handed over the key respectfully and spoke quickly.

“The Madam is taking a short nap right now. You must return the key before she wakes up, so hurry and go.”

Afraid that the stolen key might be discovered, she urged Arasila while stomping her feet anxiously.

Arasila left Audrey behind in case someone came looking for her, and went alone to the previous Duchess’s room at the end of the third floor.

When she inserted the key into the doorknob and turned it, there was a heavy sound as the lock opened.

She opened the door and entered. Dust floating in the air greeted her, suggesting it had been quite some time since the room was cleaned.

Arasila quietly closed the door and slowly looked around the room.

For a room used by a former Duchess until her death, it was small and modest. There were few decorations, and the furniture was covered with white cloths.

Her gaze was drawn to a large portrait hanging on one wall.

‘This must be the first Duchess…’

The woman in the painting was a gentle beauty with jet-black hair and golden eyes.

She was wearing a deep navy dress like a starry night sky, sitting slightly askew and smiling brightly at the viewer.

The white flower adorning her hair contrasted with her dark hair while perfectly complementing her pure smile.

‘Demian certainly takes after his father.’

Still, his brilliant golden eyes and the curve of his lips when smiling were clearly inherited from his mother, quite similar.

Arasila, who had been quietly gazing at the portrait, soon turned away.

‘I wonder if the will is really here?’

In truth, the possibility of keeping an important will in a place that constantly reminded them of their sins was low.

Nevertheless, Arasila looked around the room. And when she entered the small dressing room attached to the inner part, she paused. Near the doorway, she discovered the dress the former Duchess was wearing in the portrait.

‘If she wore this dress for the portrait, it must have been quite cherished…’

The dress was preserved better than expected. It looked like it could be worn right now if handled carefully.

Arasila, who had been observing the dress with narrowed eyes, retreated for now.

Again, she diligently searched the room, moving here and there, and then sat down on the bed right in front of her, exhausted.

‘So there’s no will here after all.’

As she stood up feeling disappointed, suddenly the key she had put in her pocket fell out. Looking down, she saw it was halfway under the bed.

As Arasila bent down to pick up the key, she noticed something shimmering under the bed.

‘What’s that?’

Lying flat on her stomach and reaching in, she rummaged around and pulled out a jewelry box.

“There was already a jewelry box on the vanity, what’s this?”

The jewelry box containing the former Duchess’s accessories was still intact on the vanity. Then what was this jewelry box hidden under the bed?

The jewelry box, with its mysterious color like lapis lazuli, had delicate gold decorations engraved on it, and a large round diamond was embedded on the top.

And surrounding the diamond was an ornate eagle pattern.

With no separate keyhole or lock, it was quite difficult to distinguish which side was the front.

Arasila, examining the jewelry box this way and that, tried to open the lid. But no matter how much force she applied, it wouldn’t budge.

Then, sensing something amiss, she lightly furrowed her brow.

‘There’s a locking spell on it?’