Chapter 23
Brina spun on her heel, stepping back sharply. Cheyton drew his sword and advanced, while Sir Mark, his expression taut with tension, stepped forward as well. Viscount Zichelia, appointed as the judge of this duel, swallowed hard and positioned himself between the two combatants.
“Viscount,” Cheyton called out.
Viscount Zichelia flinched, his shoulders trembling. “I trust you’ll keep this fair.”
“Y-Yes, Your Grace,” the viscount stammered, his face draining of color.
The duel began.
“Argh!”
And just as quickly, it ended.
“Huh? It’s over already, and I’m making a profit? The duke’s going to love this,” Roshanne said, her laughter ringing out brightly.
***
As expected, the duel ended with Roshanne’s victory. Those who had wagered on the outcome lost fortunes—everyone except Roshanne and Cheyton.
“Perfect. I’ve paid back the thirty million gold I borrowed from the duke, so this is all mine now, right?” Roshanne said, her voice light with satisfaction.
“Borrowed… or stolen?” River ventured cautiously.
“Borrowed, stolen, whatever. I returned it, so it’s settled,” Roshanne replied with a dismissive wave.
With this kind of money, she could break the sealing magic and settle anywhere she pleased.
House Fortlen’s doing me a favor, bringing me this much gold, she thought with a smirk.
“But, my lady,” River said hesitantly, “there’s talk going around that this means you and Archduke Barpheus are promised to each other. Are you… alright with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Roshanne replied, unfazed.
“But…”
“More importantly, River, the duel’s over, isn’t it?” Roshanne extended her hand, palm open.
River blinked, staring at the outstretched hand. “W-Wait… are you saying I have to give back what you gave me?”
“What?”
“I-I don’t have it here right now! It’s all hidden away, but taking back the jewels you gave me, that’s just…” River’s eyes welled with tears, her voice trembling.
Roshanne furrowed her brow, puzzled. “I’m asking for the library key, River. The library key.”
“Oh!” River snapped out of her panic, wiping her eyes hastily. “You don’t think I’d be so petty as to take back what I gave you, do you?”
“Of course not! I’d never think you’re that kind of person, my lady! Anyway, I got the library key from the steward right after the duel ended!” River rummaged through her pocket and carefully placed the key in Roshanne’s palm.
“Are you going tomorrow morning?” she asked.
“Yep,” Roshanne replied.
“Then I’ll prepare everything for your visit to the library!” River said eagerly.
Roshanne rolled across her bed, then fixed River with a steady gaze. “River.”
“Yes?”
“You look tired.”
“Me?” River touched her face, confused.
“Yeah. You should clock out and rest. Go on,” Roshanne said, waving her hand dismissively. The gesture was clear: she wanted to be alone.
River, with no authority to argue, could only obey her mistress. “Yes, my lady,” she said, bowing before slipping out of the room.
Long after River left, Roshanne sprang up from the bed.
They said The library’s that way , right?
She slipped out of her bedroom, moving silently. Having already memorized the library’s location, her steps were confident and unhesitating. Sensing the presence of guards, she deftly avoided them, gliding through the long corridors until she reached the library.
Click.
With the key she’d prepared, she carefully unlocked the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind her. The librarian was nowhere to be seen—likely gone for the day—and no other presence stirred within the library.
Perfect.
If a librarian were present, they’d surely record every book Roshanne touched. And she had no intention of leaving a trace of what she was reading.
Of course she didn’t.
The books Roshanne sought were the empire’s historical records.
Where are they?
Roshanne lit a small lamp at the library entrance and carried it as she moved deeper inside.
The wars and civil conflicts she had resolved as a hero—how had those past events been recorded in history?
How had the final expedition against the Mad Dragon concluded?
Despite their success in slaying the beast, why had Cheyton ended up cursed like that?
She had so many questions.
Roshanne pulled a thick volume from the shelf.
“…Heavy.”
In the past, it wouldn’t have bothered her, but now even lifting a single book felt burdensome.
She shuttled back and forth between the shelves and the reading table several times, gathering books before settling into a seat and beginning to read.
Her eyes, scanning the pages rapidly, held a sharpness unlike her usual demeanor.
The empire’s long history was expounded upon in elaborate detail.
The books were crisp and stiff, as if no one had ever touched them.
The great emperor who ended the ceaseless wars.
The grand emperor who expanded the empire’s lands, solved famines, and ensured the people’s safety through reforms.
The holy sovereign who eradicated heresies, quelled civil unrest, and preserved the empire’s peace.
The great emperor.
The holy sovereign.
The empire’s gift from the gods.
The divine proxy.
Pages brimmed with every manner of praise for the emperor. Nowhere was there a mention of the hero.
“…”
Roshanne’s face remained impassive as she continued flipping through the pages.
It was as she had expected. In a way, the hero was merely the emperor’s knight.
No matter how great a knight’s achievements, a knight remained just that—a knight. So it was only natural that these histories contained not a single word about the hero.
It was natural, and yet…
“…”
Veins bulged on the back of Roshanne’s hand as she gripped the book. The thick, crisp volume crumpled in an instant under her force.
“High-ranking nobles who frequented the palace knew of me.”
The high nobles who worked in the palace—all of them had known the hero, and some had even met her.
They had suppressed rebellions and stifled any discontent toward the emperor by parading the hero early on as a show of intimidation.
But there were no books that recorded anything related to the hero.
“That demon invasion was such a nightmare to clean up… And they just attribute it to the emperor’s grace? How many swords pierced my body back then?”
Roshanne muttered through gritted teeth. But no matter how she grumbled, there was no one to hear her.
With a thin sigh, she resumed reading the book.
Nothing.
No matter how much she read, something felt off.
The traces of those who fought alongside me for centuries—they’re gone.
It made sense that there was no record of the hero; after all, she had been sealed away after every war or battle ended.
But the others were different.
The knight orders and expedition forces she had led. Those who had marched with her in civil wars or fought beside her against demonic beasts.
Surely, records of them should remain?
Yet, in none of these histories could she find any trace of those who had battled with her.
“A expedition force? They all died.”
Suddenly, Roshanne recalled Duke Railaten’s casual response, as if it were obvious.
She hurriedly searched for the record of the final event—the Mad Dragon expedition.
It was the same.
Thanks to the great emperor’s foresight, the Mad Dragon was sealed, and the empire remained safe.
That was all.
There wasn’t a shred of information about those who had joined the expedition.
A raw, unrefined killing intent seeped from Roshanne’s body.
“You bas—”
The curse nearly escaped her lips.
In that instant, she whipped her head around, her sharp gaze piercing toward the library door.
A presence.
She sensed a presence.
Who is it?
Who would come to the library at this hour?
And this presence outside the door—it was unfamiliar.
It wasn’t Duke Railaten, nor her maid River. Certainly not one of the knights.
The rumors from the manor keep leaking out lately.
She’d wondered who the planted rat was and had considered letting them roam free until she could confirm it for sure.
Bad luck for you, showing up when I’m in a foul mood.
Unable to fully contain her sharpened killing intent, Roshanne rose quietly from her seat.
And the moment the intruder carefully opened the library door without a sound—
Whoosh! Thud!
Roshanne swiftly yanked them inside, threw them down, and pinned them in place, her knee pressing firmly against their throat to prevent any rise.
“Let’s see whose orders you’re following.”
They didn’t seem skilled; they couldn’t shake her off, nor did they even attempt to.
“Guh… My… lady…”
“What? Stop mumbling and speak clearly. Whose command are you under for this spying?”
Roshanne pressed her knee harder, compressing the throat once more.
She planned to kill them after extracting who had sent them to infiltrate the manor, so she felt no qualms about revealing her face.
The darkness made it hard to see the intruder’s features.
“Urk…”
A man’s groan escaped.
Indeed, the voice was unfamiliar.
A servant, perhaps?
Roshanne reached out to gauge the man’s build. She caught his hand as he flailed desperately for survival.
His palm was calloused, but not from wielding a sword—the rough patches were in the wrong places.
Not a knight, then.
Had they planted someone unskilled in swordsmanship as a spy? Was that why no one had noticed until now?
Roshanne’s eyes grew cold.
“Guh! Ugh! Ah! Hng!”
At the same time, the man pinned beneath her writhed, making frantic noises in his struggle.
