<Chapter 3>
“The longer your debut is delayed, the harder it will be to establish your standing.”
“Our Mercantia family? No way. A year or two more won’t hurt.”
It was a blunt but undeniable truth. The prestige of the Mercantia ducal family, perched at the pinnacle of commerce, wouldn’t fade over a mere few years.
‘What’s gotten into her?’
Laren knew full well that as she grew older, the time for her debut drew closer. There was no need for Kana to point it out, yet her probing tone piqued Laren’s curiosity.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is there something I don’t know about?”
“There have been unsettling rumors circulating lately.”
“Unsettling rumors?”
“Regarding why you haven’t made your debut. Some say you’re dreadfully plain-looking, and that’s the least of it. Others claim you’re half-crippled or secretly entangled with a commoner.”
“Oh…”
Since it became known that Laren was born with the Holy Qualitas, her parents had shrouded all personal details—including her gender—in strict secrecy. Holy power was likely to incite the greed of the unscrupulous, after all.
After the Duke of Mercantia’s death, the Duchess veiled Laren’s existence even further. Though Laren was now capable of protecting herself, the Duchess, surprisingly, placed little importance on a social debut.
Perhaps she was considering the chaos her daughter might unleash after entering society, or maybe she thought there was no need to get entangled in complex power struggles. The former seemed more likely.
“Recently, there’s even been absurd talk that you’ve passed away but are being concealed by the Mercantia household.”
Laren rubbed her chin as Kana’s explanation stirred a creeping sense of menace. Entangled with someone, huh?
‘They’ve kept my gender a secret, so who exactly am I supposed to be entangled with?’
These were the kind of rumors certain mischievous types would find amusing. Laren had anticipated some gossip, but talk of her death was a step too far, making her scowl instinctively. She was very much alive, after all.
Even if they were baseless rumors, the Mercantia household could only control so much. In a noble society that thrived on gossiping about the slightest flaws, the issue of the Mercantia heir was prime fodder for tarnishing their reputation.
With her existence shrouded in mystery, it was impossible for the Mercantia family to clarify or refute the rumors.
Kana, more sensitive to Laren’s reputation than Laren herself, seemed eager for her to prepare for a social debut as soon as possible.
“Alright, I get it. I’ll think it over.”
“It’s late, my lady. Please rest.”
“Right. Oh, Kana!”
Kana furrowed her brow at Laren’s sudden gesture of blowing a kiss through the folds of her robe. Ignoring Laren’s giggling antics, Kana offered a curt nod and turned to leave.
“So cold.”
Normally, Laren would have insisted Kana stay for tea and pastries, but her current predicament dampened her mood. Eating cookies would mean taking off the robe, after all. For today, she had to forgo the joy of teasing Kana.
As Kana left the chamber, a familiar silence settled in. With a soft sigh, Laren walked to the mirror. This one, more intricately crafted than the one she’d scorched recently, reflected her shadowy figure.
The gender of the Mercantia heir was unknown to the world, and perhaps living as the legitimate heir in this form was more convenient for this society.
Yet no matter how often she looked, she couldn’t get used to it, startling herself every time she passed the mirror.
Unable to craft magical tools and restricted from using magic in front of others, becoming a mage in any capacity seemed nearly impossible.
How could she explain a curse that changed her gender when she used mana? She could hardly go around announcing, “Hey, I’m cursed!”
“Hmm.”
Staring blankly into the mirror, Laren’s gaze drifted to the desk. Her eyes lingered on the newspaper Kan had lent her.
The Cursed One!… Vanished into the academy… Reditern City Academy is doing its utmost to investigate…
Having concluded negotiations with the Marun Kingdom, which bordered the Fraikan Empire, the Duchess of Mercantia returned home and immediately sought to ease her travel fatigue in the estate’s hot spring. The rose-scented bath salts dissolved in the steaming water soothed her weary body.
“Sena, I heard Laren has been neglecting her meals lately?”
The Duchess toyed with the water trickling between her fingers. Though she’d been away for about a week, every detail of the household reached her ears. She’d nearly choked upon hearing, en route to the Marun Kingdom, that Laren had refused meals.
“She says she’s managing just fine,” Sena replied quickly, sensing the Duchess’s concern. Even the maids were still grappling with worry and astonishment over the matter.
“Well, that child would never willingly fast… or so I thought. But neglecting meals and spending all her time at the grand library—what is she thinking?”
By the time the Duchess arrived at the estate, Laren was already gone. Leading the Mercantia household required sharp intellect, keen insight, and persuasive charm. Yet even as the head of such a family, the Duchess had always found her daughter’s unpredictable behavior impossible to anticipate.
“My lady, Head Maid Cesir requests an audience.”
Why would she seek an audience during a bath? Sensing the gravity of the matter, the Duchess granted permission at once.
“Let her in.”
Cesir had rushed over upon hearing of the Duchess’s return. She knew it was a breach of etiquette, but the paper in her hand could turn this impropriety into an act of loyalty.
“I greet the head of Mercantia.”
Cesir’s face was oddly flushed as she entered. With a light wave, the Duchess dismissed formalities. In the head maid’s neatly clasped hands was a golden envelope, likely a letter. From the imperial family, perhaps?
“This arrived at dawn. A letter from the young lady to you, my lady.”
‘Laren’s letter?!’
The moment Cesir spoke, a wave of emotion shimmered in the Duchess’s eyes. Laren, who had always acted on her own whims despite rigorous etiquette training—when was the last time she’d received a letter from her?
It must have been the Duchess’s birthday when Laren was ten, the final time before the Duke of Mercantia passed away. After his death, Laren had thrown herself deeper into magic, stirring up all sorts of extraordinary incidents.
A letter after nearly a decade! Sensing the Duchess’s anticipation, Sena, the maid, wiped her mistress’s damp hands with a cloth. Cesir approached respectfully and handed over the letter.
To Mother.
The simple inscription on the envelope brought a gentle smile to the Duchess’s lips. A letter—could it mean her daughter had undergone some change of heart during her mother’s absence? The Duchess’s hand, holding the letter, trembled faintly with expectation.
To Mother,
By the time you read this, I trust you will have returned from successful negotiations with the Marun Kingdom. I offer my heartfelt congratulations on concluding the talks. I never doubted you would secure favorable terms.
I beg your forgiveness in advance for the discourtesy of conveying my intentions through this letter. At the age of twenty, having reached adulthood, I wish to fulfill a single aspiration.
For a short time, I will travel the world to devote myself to magical training. I earnestly request that you refrain from sending anyone to search for me.
I promise to return and make a successful debut in society, and I will carefully consider my duties as the Mercantia heir. As always, I pray for your well-being and the glory of Mercantia.
Your daughter, Laren Mercantia
The Duchess’s hand began to tremble violently. Cesir and the maids, unaware of the letter’s contents, assumed she was moved by its sentiment and exchanged warm smiles.
“Haa…”
The Duchess’s face flushed as red as a ripe apple. For the first time in her long tenure as Duchess, she forgot all sense of decorum.
“Lareeeen!”
Her scream echoed through the hot spring, and the torn letter fluttered down like snow.
In short, it was a one-sided declaration of running away from home.
One-sided. Declaration.
At that moment, Laren, the protagonist who had successfully fled, squirmed uncomfortably on the hard carriage seat. The rickety old travel carriage, picked up on the road, jolted with every stone, sending shocks through her backside. It was, quite literally, a bruising experience.
‘This hurts like hell. Can’t you avoid the rocks?!’
Once she’d escaped the Mercantia domain, Laren had finally shed the stifling robe after a week. The relief was indescribable. The saying that humans need sunlight to thrive wasn’t just empty words.
She’d donned plain clothing, but her distinctive white hair and silken presence still drew unwanted attention. Laren fidgeted with the roughly purchased top and bottom from the market.
Perhaps it was the sleepless night spent meticulously planning her escape, but a wave of drowsiness prompted a long yawn. She’d had to leave at dawn to avoid being caught by the household staff—it was only a matter of time otherwise.
“Excuse me, how long until we reach Reditern City?”
“It’ll be at least another half-day. Feeling bored? Why don’t you catch a quick nap?”
Through the carriage’s central window, the driver’s hearty chuckle rang out. With a nod, he urged the horses forward, focusing on the road ahead.
‘Still a long way to go.’
Laren turned her gaze from the driver and unfolded the newspaper in her hands. She’d read it so many times that the page with the article was frayed and tattered.
Though brief, the article had been enough to spur her into action. Rather than wrestling with fruitless books in the grand library, tracking down the “cursed one” at Reditern City Academy to gather information seemed far more efficient.
Unless it was the Demonium curse, a human with such a form and abilities was unlikely to exist. To encounter someone so rare in a lifetime—and one who might hold clues to her own curse—was reason enough to pursue them.
‘The academy tried to hush it up, but the witnesses made that impossible.’
This was the first article related to Reditern City Academy, drawing intense public attention. This incident might even bring aspects of the Demonium curse to light.
“Haa…”
Perhaps she was exhausted lately, as sleepiness overwhelmed her, and she rubbed her face. Leaving only a single letter behind, the Mercantia household must be in an uproar by now.
“Cesir, please deliver this letter to Mother.”
“Oh, my lady!”
She’d approached Cesir shyly with the request. The head maid had been so delighted, as if she’d received the letter herself. Laren could only imagine the betrayal Cesir must feel now.
‘Cesir, I’m sorry. I had no choice.’
With the Mercantia family’s influence, joining the academy’s investigation would be easy, but the risks were too great. Without knowing whether the figure in the article was cursed by Demonium, a monster, or some otherworldly being, Laren couldn’t reveal her hand.
If it turned into a prolonged affair, the Mercantia household would inevitably learn of her own curse. Laren was impulsive, but she had no intention of sharing the consequences of her greed with the people she loved.
If anyone were to learn of her curse, the Duchess would be the first to charge in. As her thoughts grew heavier, so did her eyelids, and Laren let herself drift into a brief nap.
