Ch.98After the Ball (1)

After finishing his business, he returned to the sofa where Adelheid was waiting.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Lady Adelheid.”

“It’s quite alright, Your Highness Leopold. Did your conversation go well?”

“Yes. It was… quite important. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Seated on the sofa, Leopold seemed parched as he picked up a glass from the table. The half-filled, dark red wine swirled gently.

…Maybe I should have a glass too. Honestly, my throat is a bit dry.

My throat involuntarily tightened.

Honestly, just one glass should be fine, right…?

It’s not like Claire is offering it, and if Leopold is drinking it, it probably isn’t dangerous.

If there was poison, he would have noticed it already.

Yes, just one glass.

Before I knew it, I had picked up the crystal glass beside me.

Lifting my veil slightly, I brought the wine to my lips.

The scent of cherries and blackberries tickled my nose.

I took a small sip and rolled it around in my mouth.

A refreshing taste. The slight astringency and sweetness blended harmoniously.

Good wine.

I gladly let the alcohol—my first in nearly half a year—flow down my throat.

That’s all I remember.

=====[■■■■■■ ■■■]=====

At last.

Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath, savoring the air of the world she hadn’t felt in so long.

Though entirely different from the scent of the steppes in her memory, it was still a welcome proof of life.

A sense of liberation coursed through her veins, awakening a long-missed feeling of reality.

She looked down at her fingertips, flexing them slightly.

As if reacquainting herself with the familiar sensation.

“Princess Aishan-Gioro? Are you alright?”

Her hazy consciousness gradually began to clear.

Aishan-Gioro.

Aishan-Gioro Haschal.

Yes, that was her true name.

‘My real name, not that impostor’s.’

She forcibly suppressed the surge of Karma of Murder that threatened to erupt in welcome of its returned master.

The energy obediently subsided like a docile lamb.

“…I’m fine.”

‘Yes, everything is fine.’

Haschal muttered inwardly as she looked at the person before her.

The imperial prince was staring at her strangely, puzzled by her sudden silence.

‘His name was Leopold, wasn’t it?’

She had seen everything.

She had heard everything.

She had witnessed something occupying her body, distorting all her plans and engaging in bizarre behavior.

Though she couldn’t quite determine what it was or what its intentions were.

The first emotion she felt was rage.

Whoever was behind this—likely some sorcerer—she would tear them to pieces someday.

Her mother’s grave, Jahan and her younger sibling.

When she saw all she had built abandoned as that thing fled westward, she nearly lost her mind with fury.

Did this person even know what they had done?

She had painstakingly hunted thousands of Danes to maintain tension with the westerners, preventing Clan Aishan from making rash moves.

Waiting until warriors desiring conquest grew increasingly dissatisfied with Orhan and eventually supported a new leader with growing renown.

To throw away all those efforts and ultimately unleash Orhan upon the plains.

Had they even considered how to clean up this mess?

‘Of course not.’

The next emotion she felt was bewilderment.

The actions of whoever possessed her body made absolutely no sense.

They seemed to prepare diligently for something as if they knew the future.

One moment acting on instinct like a ruffian, the next transforming into a knight when wielding her mother’s sword.

It was impossible to suppress her contempt watching it all.

Not even a proper warrior, unable to properly handle power, yet recklessly relying on physical strength, repeatedly reducing her body to a rag.

Ridiculously, practically defeated by a woman who had just reached Master level, then driven to the brink of death by a mere Dane crusader.

In the end, even becoming enslaved by the power of a mere artifact.

After that, overwhelmed by a few werebeasts who weren’t even Champions… nearly dying after exhausting all power.

‘After fighting the werebeasts, yes. At least that improved somewhat.’

Thanks to fighting the Champion, they had at least learned to properly handle a Master’s power.

The final emotion she felt was helplessness.

A feeling she never thought would visit her.

No matter how many curses she screamed watching that pitiful state, none reached their target.

She wondered if her voice could even be heard.

Even returning like this was a miracle.

A fleeting miracle, like a dream in the night, unlikely to last long.

Intuition whispered to Haschal.

This state wouldn’t last long.

‘The cause… is this?’

She felt something small wriggling in her stomach.

A tiny worm emitting very faint dark mana, trying to burrow deeper into her body.

Such a weak and small creature would normally be impossible to detect.

Her clouded mind and body’s fierce sense of crisis at the foreign intrusion had combined to summon the original owner.

Haschal concentrated Karma of Murder within her body and crushed the trembling worm like dust.

It was a weak parasite.

So fragile it would die naturally before long if it couldn’t inhabit a human body.

“Something was mixed into the wine. Something so small it would be difficult to notice. A priest’s blessing should dispel it, so please order your nobles to seek treatment later, Your Highness Leopold.”

Haschal set down the wine glass and warned the prince.

Normally she wouldn’t care whether imperial humans lived or died, but her consciousness would soon be pushed back again, and everything afterward would be left to that damned usurper.

‘So I must play along for now.’

If the one who stole her body died pathetically, she too would perish miserably.

“What did you just say…”

“Exactly what I said. Now, I’ll be going.”

Haschal nodded slightly and rose from the sofa.

There was nothing more to say.

Leopold hadn’t failed to hear her words; he had heard but couldn’t believe them and was asking for confirmation.

‘I’ve given my warning, he can handle it himself.’

Suppressing her nature and lowering herself was reaching its limit.

The irritation building in her mind was exhausting.

Heading alone toward the balcony, Haschal once again pondered who might have done this to her.

Some form of sorcery was undoubtedly involved.

The woman who had examined Frosting had said it was cursed as well.

‘It means those supposedly eradicated vermin… have dared to infiltrate Clan Aishan. Likely the doing of one of Orhan’s brats.’

Haschal was convinced her half-brothers were the culprits. Though circumstantial, she had reasons.

Those worms had always resorted to underhanded tactics when they couldn’t defeat her directly.

Besides, as children of the Khan, they would be valuable enough for sorcerers to approach.

‘…I wonder if Jahan is alright.’

There was no way to check now that she couldn’t return east.

Haschal massaged the back of her neck, feeling it tighten with another surge of anger.

“You there, stop.”

Haschal stopped a passing servant carrying a tray and snatched a bottle of wine.

Even if it contained worms, it was quite good wine. She could simply destroy any parasites in her stomach.

Outside, Haschal tore off the bottle’s neck with her fingertips and gulped it down.

Though weaker and sweeter than her homeland’s spirits, it wasn’t bad, and her throat worked continuously.

“Haaa…”

Setting the half-emptied bottle on the railing, Haschal rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a Mana Herb, placing it between her lips.

Whenever she had seen westerners constantly smoking these, she had been curious to try one.

‘…Not bad.’

Haschal closed her eyes and savored the smoke, enjoying the sensation of the slightly acrid mint scent permeating her lungs.

It was definitely a pleasant feeling.

She could understand why the one who stole her body was constantly using them.

As her mind calmed and her anger subsided slightly, her heightened senses spread to her surroundings.

She could hear the moans of the lowborn.

Her sharpened senses could vividly picture her surroundings even with her eyes closed.

Clear enough to see figures entangled with legs spread, writhing in the bushes.

‘For all their talk of dignity and etiquette… their true nature is no different. Just as mother said.’

With eyes still closed, Haschal exhaled smoke into the air and thought of her mother, Imela.

Despite being from western nobility herself, her mother had always expressed disgust when speaking of nobles.

She would openly express contempt, saying most had become corrupt trash with no trace of their former pride.

As she repeatedly drank when her throat felt dry, using the moans as accompaniment, then inhaled and exhaled smoke, her senses detected someone approaching.

Staggering footsteps. Rough breathing. Rapid heartbeat.

From the vibrations in the air, a man with a heavy build.

The scent carried a strong smell of alcohol.

‘…Who is it?’

Seeing that he was clearly heading toward her, Haschal lowered her gaze from the air to look at the balcony window.

Eventually, the window opened wide, and a middle-aged man appeared.

A face flushed red with intoxication.

An absurdly bloated figure in elaborate formal attire.

His incongruously glossy blonde hair almost made her laugh.

“Heh, so you were here after all. Princess of the Ka’har…”

His wavering voice carried thick hostility.

“Do you know me?”

Haschal coldly asked.

It was an unfamiliar face.

Even searching through the usurper’s memories, she couldn’t recall meeting such a person.

“Gilbert Bernstein. Head of Viscount of Bernstein. Father of Kenneth Bernstein, whom you ruined.”

‘Kenneth?’

“Who is that?”

At the question in Haschal’s voice, Gilbert’s face instantly contorted.