episode_0097

Unbefitting her elegance, two major incidents, utterly undignified, had occurred in the past few days.

One of them, and the more significant one, was about Ras.

Since the day after she contacted Ras on Monday night and received a reply, Marisa couldn’t look Ras straight in the face.

‘How could I, this elegant me, throw such a childish tantrum… and Ras-gun even accepted it! Ras-gun, a man with a lover shouldn’t do such things. What a mischievous man…!’

Contrary to his somewhat frivolous outer appearance, Ras was unexpectedly kind through and through, and that kindness put Marisa’s mind at ease.

Moreover, Marisa and Ras unexpectedly got along well in various ways, so being with him was truly enjoyable.

The fact that the two of them got along well or felt comfortable together wasn’t really a big deal.

First, they would munch on cheap convenience store bread that Leon or the noble acquaintances she’d made in high society wouldn’t even look at, chatting idly.

‘Ras-gun… although he’s a pitiful owner of taste buds who fiercely criticizes asparagus mayonnaise bread, he somehow picks at his food like a child, which is a little… just a little bit cute.’

And if they engaged in a tense, silent battle of wits over cute Irha’s head, that was the icing on the cake.

Why? Because a silent battle of wits ultimately meant their hands getting tangled behind Irha’s head… and Marisa secretly immensely enjoyed those moments when she “legally” touched Ras.

‘Perhaps because he grew up pampered, his hands are quite soft and warm… and they’re also quite large, enough to make my heart flutter. Not a snake-like creepy touch, nor a bear-like rough one… if I had to compare, a cute cat..? No! Why do I keep thinking Ras-gun is cute? Get a grip, Marisa…’

When Irha wasn’t around, they would talk about various street novels that noble people wouldn’t bother to read, deeming them vulgar. (Incidentally, the two of them weren’t excluding Irha. Irha hated books, so she’d get sulky if they talked about books when the three of them were together.)

‘And this is very important. As a true literature club member, Ras-gun is surprisingly knowledgeable about interesting novels. Moreover, even when a new story comes up, he listens thoughtfully and very sincerely. Ugh… why do I keep praising him…’

Marisa had eaten, seen, and worn all sorts of precious things while moving between Eisenwald and Sephir, but the past month spent with Ras (and for now, Irha) was more enjoyable than the expensive twenty years she had lived.

And as the news that Ras had broken up with Lizley spread somewhat throughout the school, Marisa started to think about Ras a little more often… without guilt.

Leon? Marisa didn’t feel any human decency or pity for Leon anyway, and she didn’t want to show any consideration for him as her fiancé.

Instead, while she felt no guilt towards someone like Leon, Marisa felt tremendous guilt towards Rosalie, who had become Ras’s lover.

She also felt a slight guilt towards her friends, Irha and Pisces, who were enthusiastically liking an already sinful man.

‘I’m sorry, everyone. But… won’t this feeling just be a temporary diversion for me, so could you please yield a little? That’s right… in fact, I think I’ve started to see Ras-gun as a man now. Even if my feelings aren’t big yet…’

Marisa, who had consistently asserted friendship and turned a blind eye to her true feelings, finally realized the direction her heart was pointing.

That’s why, even at this very moment, as she faced her terrible trauma, thoughts of Ras surged so greatly in Marisa’s mind that they consumed her small fear.

And the small fear…

Yes. The other one was a long-standing fear, one that was actually not insignificant or small.

A being who had subtly caused fear and learned helplessness in the elegant Marisa.

Most people in the world didn’t know that he was Marisa’s half-blood relative: Raymond Sylvester von Valencia, who was simultaneously her brother and her paternal aunt’s nephew, a truly bizarre relationship.

He was universally recognized as a scoundrel of the highest order, a madman with half his screws loose.

If the Valencia family were a normal ducal house, he, being over thirty, should have been fully prepared to become the next Duke of Valencia by now.

Not only Rodrigo, but even Raymond’s father, who was already over fifty, was quite old to continue holding the ducal title.

However, Rodrigo had no intention of relinquishing the Duke of Valencia’s position until he ascended to the regency, and Raymond’s father simply waited impatiently, submitting to this.

Raymond, who resembled Rodrigo in his considerable lust for power, couldn’t openly show this to his grandfather, the most terrifying being in the world, and his father, who came next.

Instead, he secretly vented his frustration by further refining his inherent dissolute and ruffian nature, beating people and sometimes finding and killing scumbags in the back alleys who could be killed.

Because he was naturally brawny, having inherited the blood of Valencia, he was already quite famous in the back alleys of Sephir as “the old unruly young master of the ducal house.”

This old unruly young master, true to his nature, was waiting for Marisa near a pavilion in a somewhat deserted and secluded part of the hospital ward.

As a graduate of Leone, a notorious bully since his academy days, he knew well where secluded spots were effective for tormenting weaker individuals.

Marisa glanced around slightly and realized that this was an unusually deserted place.

A secluded corner where even if violence were used, people wouldn’t witness it, and the victim’s voice wouldn’t echo.

She instinctively knew that Raymond had come with the intent to use violence against her if the opportunity arose.

“….Why have you come?”

However, she was no longer a helpless child, and never in her life had she been so cowardly as to openly tremble in fear of the utterly pathetic scoundrel, Raymond.

“Mari, long time no see? You’ve grown into quite the lady since I last saw you, haven’t you?”

Normally, such words from an older brother to his much younger sister should convey warm humanism and family affection.

But Raymond was more like a beast than a human… no, he was a human scumbag that even beasts would be offended by.

Naturally, there was no warm affection or welcome for his sister in those words.

Filling that space was the sneer and sadism of a cat toying with a mouse.

And… the dirty, sticky desire he no longer bothered to hide when they were alone, ever since Marisa had gone through puberty and started to look like an adult.

“Well… I’m already twenty-one years old.”

Marisa deliberately spoke casually, unwilling to use terms like “Ohrabeoni” or “Oppa.”

‘Haa… seeing this man here… it seems His Imperial Majesty has brought up the annulment to grandfather. I understand why he hastened it, but thanks to that, I’ll be suffering.’

Marisa, while grateful to the Emperor for swiftly granting her request, clicked her tongue internally, frustrated by the unwelcome situation.

The man standing before her was the ruffian who had tormented her since childhood…

Raymond didn’t know that his sister, Marisa, was actually his paternal grandfather’s daughter… meaning, his aunt.

However, he knew for sure that Marisa hadn’t come out of the same mother’s womb as him.

So, Marisa, who had appeared out of nowhere one day, was merely a pretty object to Raymond.

A girl of unknown origin whom his father had brought home one day, who might not even be his real child.

A tribute prepared to be offered to the Crown Prince, with the purpose of ensuring the Valencia family’s influence over the Imperial Family would continue for generations.

Therefore, Raymond treated Marisa, who was eleven years his junior, like an object since childhood.

Besides verbal abuse, he had often hit Marisa, who was a small girl.

Hitting the Crown Prince’s fiancée would normally be a huge problem, but Raymond, being a direct descendant of the Ducal House of Valencia, could effectively cover up such incidents.

Even Rodrigo, who should have disciplined him, actually ‘supported’ Raymond appropriately to ‘handle’ Marisa, who had very different inclinations and a haughtiness and nobility unlike other Valencias.

He taught him how to subtly inflict violence without leaving obvious marks, and Rodrigo would roughly conceal and appease the assaults.

Furthermore, Leon, Marisa’s fiancé and the Crown Prince, who should have intervened and was fully capable of doing so, also enjoyed and subtly encouraged Raymond’s ‘appropriate’ violence show.

Although the power dynamic between the two had slightly reversed now, before adolescence, Leon could never physically beat Marisa.

As children, they had physically fought a few times, as kids do, but Leon was always terribly defeated by Marisa, and these small defeats fostered a subtle inferiority complex in Leon.

Leon’s tendency to dismiss elements he didn’t perfectly possess as common and insignificant, combined with these small defeats, greatly influenced the formation of his character, which prioritized cunning over brute force.

At any rate, from Leon’s perspective, it was extremely enjoyable to watch his fiancée, who was stronger, nobler, and more beautiful than him, suffer and fear in moments of overwhelming power disparity.

Of course, once puberty arrived and Leon’s own physical prowess greatly increased, he did ask his grandfather to make it so that Marisa, whom he considered his possession, could no longer be touched… but this request wasn’t made out of affection.

It was merely a change of stance because he no longer felt inferior to Marisa in terms of strength, and thus didn’t need to feel vicarious satisfaction by watching others torment her.

Marisa also knew this fact, which led her to thoroughly detest all her family members, including Rodrigo, and even her fiancé, Leon.

“By the way… you’re still ill-mannered towards your brother. We haven’t seen each other in a long time, so aren’t you going to call me ‘Oppa’ or ‘Ohrabeoni’… or something like that? Ah, perhaps you’re too valuable a person, soon to be Empress, to acknowledge a ducal house idler with no title?”

Raymond, with his trashy nature but keen eye for the negative, couldn’t possibly miss this atmosphere.

From the start, Rodrigo had sent Raymond for revenge and to inflict trauma upon Marisa, so he was happily fulfilling his role.

Normally, Marisa would respond appropriately to such barking and let it pass, but today, for some reason, she didn’t want to play along with him.

“Haa… Mari, perhaps you’ve grown a bit… and are talking back to your brother? I heard your magical achievements are quite something… but you’re still just Marisa. A lowly ‘commodity’ girl, whose even whose father is unknown. Aren’t you? Didn’t you, supposedly so smart, know your place? Why are you being so difficult?”

Insults, verbal abuse, followed by Raymond cracking his knuckles, threateningly.

But strangely, Marisa, unlike usual, wasn’t particularly afraid of Raymond today.

Clearly, until the beginning of this year when she last saw him, the subtle and harsh violence she had continuously endured from Raymond had been a trauma that tormented Marisa.

‘Why… am I hesitating to answer appropriately right now? And… now that I’m facing him, why am I not afraid of that trash at all?’

Strangely, what came to Marisa’s mind at this moment was the fight she had with Antikrea in Delphy and the horrifying, ominous landscape of the fiery hell.

Perhaps it was because she had briefly glimpsed that ominous hell, which seemed to gather all the fear and dread in the world? After that day’s battle, Marisa had become slightly more courageous.

‘That day, I collapsed like a helpless kitten before a small high-ranking demon… Not just me, but the Imperial Family and professors too… everyone was helpless, but there was one exception… no, two? Professor Rosalie… Hmph! I’m annoyed, so let’s put her aside for now…’

Ras Etgard.

The son of a merchant, who showed not an ounce of fear or hesitation even against irresistibly powerful, high-ranking demons he had never seen before.

The flame of the battlefield, who had gritted his teeth and fought desperately in an overwhelmingly disadvantageous war, dominating the battlefield until the Emperor arrived.

If the son of a merchant was risking his life fighting high-ranking demons, would she, a girl living like trash, clinging to the mere nameplate of a prestigious ducal house, be afraid of this thug?

‘That would be… an insult and a disgrace to me, the elegant Marisa Adelard von Valencia. To the point where being beaten to death would be better.’

Instead of trembling, Marisa quickly began to think about how she could annoy Raymond.

Before her sharp mind, the dog began to bark in earnest.

“Aren’t you going to answer? Hmph… I have more than one thing to confront you about, and you’re already making me lose my temper? First, I should deliver my business. Hey, what did you blabber to His Imperial Majesty that talks of annulment reached my ears? Do I have to come all the way from Sephir to this rural town just to educate you? Are you really crazy?”

Raymond, typical of a thug, was using classic fault-finding and verbal abuse, but seeing Marisa look at him indifferently with a “where’s that barking coming from?” expression, true anger began to surge within him.

However, our elegant Marisa was not a meek young lady who would simply respond with passive resistance like silence.

“…Are you done talking? If you didn’t want to come to this backwater, why did you crawl all the way here instead of staying ‘stuck’ in your magnificent Sephir? Are you perhaps afraid of the Duke of Valencia, even at your ‘advanced’ age? I, a ‘commodity’ girl you looked down upon, at least openly defied the Duke. That… remove it. No, you don’t seem to have anything to remove anyway…”

Marisa’s sharp wit, honed by street novels, snapped Raymond’s last thread of reason.

“Haa… that’s enough. Alright, you seem to have gained some confidence, so you want to try, do you? Then I guess I don’t need to control my strength, you won’t die or become disabled, will you?”

He was trash, scum to the core, but Raymond was one of those sad examples where character and skill weren’t perfectly proportional.

Though he lived like trash in a dumpster, his skill was such that even Marisa currently had to concede a bit.

The ominous and powerful white mana, characteristic of the direct Valencia lineage, began to surge around Raymond.

“I won’t… be easily defeated. Come at me with the thought of losing an arm, at least.”

However, Marisa was also not a fragile woman, so she raised her mana and immediately completed her combat preparations.

Just as Raymond was about to strike Marisa, and Marisa had finished her casting, in that touch-and-go situation—

“Oh, dear! What in the world is this, in a sacred school?”

A swift movement, leaving no proper trace, cut between the two.

Thwack-

Raymond’s striking wrist was seized, and his surging mana instantly snapped and died out.

As if… a fountain had frozen in mid-winter.

“Ras…-gun…?”

“And who the hell are you, you bastard?”

Marisa, seeing the Ras she had yearned to see, opened her eyes wide and round, cuter than usual, but Raymond’s face, interrupted at a crucial moment, twisted into a fiendish grimace.

*

Ugh!

He was really so faint in presence that, honestly, finding him by mana sensing alone was half a failure.

Ras Etgard’s dignity, which had been so grandly displayed, was completely shattered.

Normally, those who wield powerful and unique mana unconsciously leave traces or residues as they move.

Of course, these traces tend to scatter and mix, making them very difficult to find, but I learned a good knack for finding them from Semele.

‘Hmph… because you keep causing trouble, wandering around, and falling behind, I had to develop something like this. Ras… you truly are a wonderfully disobedient puppy.’

It was called Semele-style, “Lost Puppy Finding”…

This technique, with its seemingly cute name, was a tracking skill Semele had personally developed to find me when I wandered around or got left behind during fights.

I, too, began tracking Marisa, who had run off like a disobedient puppy, but it was surprisingly difficult to find her.

[Master, that woman resembles a cat, not a puppy, so she cannot be found. I recommend changing the technique name to ‘Lost Cat Finding’.]

I ignored the stupid comments from the nameless one in my head.

Instead, I changed my thoughts and recalled where in this academy would be a good place for someone to bully someone else.

‘There’s a pavilion near the hospital ward where school violence used to occur. Was it my second year since appointment..? So I taught them a good lesson, didn’t I? How did I teach them? By punching them..? So I sometimes patrol there.’

Indeed, thinking of Professor Rosalie always brings chocolate cream buns to mind, even while sleeping.

I focused my tracking sense towards the hospital ward area and sent urgent messages via magic tool to three professors.

[School violence is happening near the pavilion behind the hospital ward…! Please help!!! Stop school violence!!]

Then I ran, recalling the story of a white dog that crossed the sea to find its master, like a child searching for its mother.

Woof woof!!

As I ran like a dog, desperately focusing my mana sense, Marisa’s faint and hazy presence became noticeable as I got closer.

Sure enough.

At the place I arrived, some idiotic thug and Marisa were on the verge of a fierce collision, radiating murderous intent.

Was this the Valencia Ducal House’s conflict resolution method: fists before words?

No.

According to Marisa, that nameless trash had tormented her with violence since childhood.

And our Marisa is elegant and does not prefer violence, unlike the other ignorant and low-class members of the Valencia family.

So that was self-defense.

Normally, I would watch and cheer Marisa on as she bravely defeated the thug, but that guy clearly wasn’t someone she could defeat without bloodshed.

And in my previous life, on the battlefield, at the end of that terrible inferno, Marisa had bled and been brutally mangled to death before me. In this life, I don’t want her to be hurt even a single hair more.

Whether it’s her body or her heart…

Therefore, in that touch-and-go situation, I maximally unleashed the power of the nameless one within my inner world and made a leap swifter than a blink.

Ras Etgard Style, Mental Leap.

I leaped across a distance I normally couldn’t cover in a single jump, charging in.

I imagined myself spreading like a butterfly, a flame, instantly blossoming, leaving afterimages.

Having leaped, I grabbed the thug’s awkwardly striking wrist and subtly injected the chill of the Snow Flower.

This dispel, which used cold to freeze and neutralize surging mana, was an arrangement of Swanwhite’s power that I had absorbed previously, and it was working quite well.

The thug’s skill was quite good, so I couldn’t immediately strike his core organs like his heart, but the subtle cold would slowly seep in like a poison, freezing him.

“Oh, dear! What in the world is this, in a sacred school?”

Without letting him feel even a hint of suspicion, I immediately delivered a scathing rebuke, diverting his attention.

At my sudden appearance, our elegant Marisa—

“Ras…-gun…?”

Opened her eyes wide and round, cuter than ever.

Oh, so cute!!!

And that piece of junk, beyond recycling…

“And who the hell are you, you bastard?”

As expected of trash, he greeted me with vulgar curses right from our first meeting.

“Me? A literature club member. But who are you, to ‘spew’ curses at me on our first meeting? Why did you crawl into a school for kids when you’re so old? And all you do is torment a girl? I’ve never seen such an innovative psycho. Is that how your daddy raised you?”

And I, usually, if someone slaps my cheek once, I’m the kind of guy who pulls out their teeth in return.

At my refreshing insults and question about his upbringing, the trash’s face turned beet red.

“Hmph… What kid doesn’t know who I am now… I’m Raymond von Valencia. You wouldn’t say you don’t know the Ducal House of Valencia, would you? Who are you?”

I know, you idiot.

“Raymond? Ah… him! Isn’t he famous as the guy who’ll never even smell the ducal title in his life? It seems your family is destined to live for generations upon generations, well into old age.”

“What…??”

I’d actually never heard of a Raymond before, but he was probably the kind of guy who’d only become duke when he was an old geezer, so I teased him with that.

But this idiot is so stupid he doesn’t understand my aesthetically pleasing teasing.

“I mean your family lives long. Your father, your grandfather, all live long and prosper. Valencia Young Master? You idiot, do you think that’ll work at Leone? In a place where you can call the Crown Prince ‘Leon’?”

As I finished my grand lie, I calmly drew out the chill of the Snow Flower swirling in my inner world, preparing to manifest my Mental Realm.

By the way, the part about this bastard not working on me at Leone is true, and the part about your family living long is a lie.

Because I plan to thoroughly punish the rest of the Valencias, excluding Marisa, they’re already doomed to not live long.

Come to think of it, I’m practically the Emperor’s implicit hitman right now, so most acts of force are immune.

Someone from a ducal family coming into Leone, known as the Imperial Family’s cradle, and acting belligerently? That itself is a challenge to the Imperial Family.

Normally, if an outsider were to enter and use force like that, not only Professor Isera and the executive branch, but even the students, could carry out immediate execution on the intruder.

Because an outsider using force in Leone, which is strictly a semi-military facility, is the same as attempting terrorism against a military facility and its personnel.

With justification and backing, there’s no way I or those around me would be harmed by me beating up an idiot like that.

Originally, I didn’t want to get involved in a violent incident with a high-ranking noble, so I planned to stall for a bit and then signal the professors for a ‘rescue!’, but there’s no need for that.

I might as well beat him up properly while also honing the power of the Snow Flower.

With an icy determination, white snow began to fill the entire open space behind the pavilion.

Still immature and delicate like a snowflake, but its presence was clear: my new Mental Realm.

Mental Realm: White Night.

Thus, a white and beautiful night descended upon the small open space that had been a hotbed of barbaric violence.

The white night, like Marisa, was elegant.