Ch.99After the Ball (2)

=====[Aishan-Gioro Haschal]=====

“Not only did you completely ruin someone else’s child, but you don’t even remember it!”

Gilbert shouted.

His nostrils flared wide, and spittle mixed with alcohol sprayed from his mouth.

Haschal’s brow furrowed with disgust.

Since she was still wearing her veil, it wouldn’t have been visible to others.

“Are you really raising your voice to me? A mere viscount dares?”

Haschal’s voice sharpened in response to his unprecedented rudeness, despite his drunken state.

If this weren’t the Imperial Palace, she would have torn out his tongue, cut off his limbs, and left only his pig-like torso.

She would have hung him from a pole and sent him back to his land of Bernstein.

So he could watch clearly as she slaughtered every living thing there, then captured his precious family and threw them to the dogs.

Removing his eyes would come after that.

A chilling murderous intent began to seep from her body.

Though she was suppressing her aura to avoid causing a commotion, her displeasure alone was enough to leak a sinister malice.

From behind the thick veil, a blue glow began to shine from her eyes, growing more intense.

It was the eerie terror of being stared down by a maddened tiger.

Gilbert unconsciously stepped back, then felt shame at his retreat and grew even angrier.

Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through his veins that gave him such audacity.

Or perhaps it was what remained of his paternal pride.

“No father would remain calm when his child has been torn to pieces!”

Gilbert recalled the image of his once-proud son, Kenneth.

Though not quite a genius, he had never fallen short of being talented in magic.

Unlike his father, he possessed the elegant dignity befitting a noble.

On the day he entered the academy with high marks, Gilbert had celebrated alone in his study with wine.

Thinking the day to pass down the Bernstein family name wasn’t far off.

Then that son returned home a broken man in just a few days.

Thanks to the academy’s treatment, there were no remaining external wounds.

But since then, Kenneth would scream and lock himself in his room whenever he saw a woman.

Even when seeing the maids of the mansion, his own sister, or even his mother.

It felt like the ground had collapsed beneath him.

He had consulted priests in every possible way, but… they could only say that while physical wounds could be healed, mental wounds could only be healed with time.

His wife had fallen ill with worry, and his daughter sighed constantly with concern for her brother.

Gilbert spent every day drunk, trying to find out who was responsible for this atrocity.

The academy gave no answers.

They only repeated that they had no responsibility for accidents that occurred during training.

He learned who the culprit was today, through a noble of the 3rd Prince’s faction.

His son had also been injured that day, he’d said.

By that barbaric female beast, Aishan-Gioro.

Gilbert glared at Haschal.

Of course, this meant nothing to Haschal, who couldn’t even remember Kenneth.

She merely thought that he seemed like a better father than Orhan, and was ready to dismiss the matter.

‘Since he’s trying to be a father concerned for his child, perhaps I should just placate him and send him away.’

For Haschal, this was truly an act of mercy she hadn’t shown in years, if she could even remember the last time.

“If your child is so precious, why not stop here before you cause him more sorrow?”

“What did you just say?”

“Well, what child wouldn’t be sad if their father died a dog’s death from foolish bravado? So if you shut your mouth and leave now, I’ll specially overlook your rudeness so far.”

Gilbert trembled like an epileptic.

Haschal nodded with satisfaction.

She thought that after showing such mercy, even this pig would know his place and leave.

“You… crazy…!”

‘He’s not coming to his senses.’

Haschal picked up a wine bottle in irritation.

She was debating whether to smash it into his mouth or just drink the contents.

In the end, thirst won.

She could always smash his face after emptying the bottle.

After downing the wine completely, Haschal wiped her mouth and gave Gilbert a cold stare.

“Watch your mouth before I tear out your tongue. How long do you think the Imperial Palace will protect you?”

Frightened by the realistic threat, Gilbert stepped back half a step.

Then he gritted his teeth and stepped forward again.

Even in her irritated state, Haschal was inwardly impressed.

It seemed like there was nothing but an inflated liver inside that about-to-burst belly.

“All I’m asking for is one apology… Are you threatening to kill me for that? Go ahead and try!”

“An apology? Why should I do that?”

Gilbert’s demand was incomprehensible to Haschal.

“Because you turned someone into a cripple during what was supposed to be a sparring match, of course…!”

“Sparring? Oh. So that’s what this is about. Well, that’s his fault for being weak-minded.”

Haschal remarked dismissively. She found it ridiculous.

Getting injured during sparring was a common occurrence on the steppes.

Without priests or mages there, they had no way to treat serious injuries.

Meanwhile, she had seen westerners recover perfectly from near-fatal wounds multiple times.

She couldn’t understand why anyone would make such a fuss over something like this.

“This is pointless…! Fine, here’s my ultimatum. Either go apologize to my son, or become an enemy of House Bernstein. Choose!”

“Why should I listen to threats from those weaker than me? Here’s my ultimatum: leave now if you don’t want to die.”

Haschal waved her hand dismissively. For her, this was truly her best attempt at proper conduct.

Her patience was reaching its limit.

“This insult, I will never let it pass…!”

“Insult? The words you’re spewing at me are the real insult. Who do you think is standing before you?”

Gilbert, trembling with rage, turned away, muttering curses under his breath.

Unfortunately for Gilbert, Haschal had very sharp hearing.

“…the child of a whore who spread her legs for a barbarian…!”

At that moment, Haschal made up her mind.

This man had crossed the line.

There was no reason to hesitate.

The one who had taken her body had a method approved by the prince.

‘This is definitely how it’s done.’

Haschal pulled off the glove from her left hand.

But before that, there was one last thing she needed to ask.

“Viscount. Who are your parents? …Are they still alive?”

“What…?!”

Gilbert turned around in surprise at the ominous question.

Haschal was staring directly at him, holding her glove in her right hand.

Her eyes emitted streams of burning light that no veil could hide.

“No… on second thought, I don’t need to know. If they don’t like the outcome of the duel, they’ll crawl out on their own.”

“What nonsense are you—”

Gilbert’s words were cut short.

A person whose neck has been twisted seven times cannot speak.

Gilbert’s body convulsed and collapsed to the side.

A heavy thud echoed across the balcony.

The cloth glove that had struck his cheek shattered into fragments that fluttered away.

Between his splayed legs, a dark stain spread.

Wrinkling her nose at the disgusting smell of urine, Haschal kicked the corpse off the balcony and calmly left.

Behind her, screams erupted along with a sound like a leather balloon bursting.

The aftermath was not her concern. The usurper would handle it.

Besides, her time of consciousness was reaching its limit anyway.

“What have you… done?”

Prince Leopold asked, unable to hide his shock.

“A duel. I won.”

With those final words, Haschal’s consciousness began to sink again.

Her body collapsed limply.

==============

Gilbert’s death was treated as an accidental fall.

It was said that while drunk, he leaned against the balcony railing and slipped, falling to his death.

Everyone knew it wasn’t true, but… there was no major backlash.

She was the youngest Master ever, who had just received a medal of valor directly from the Emperor for saving the islands.

They couldn’t tarnish that reputation with a mere viscount’s murder charge.

It would only diminish the authority of the Imperial family who had held such a grand award ceremony.

Naturally, Leopold wanted to bury the matter, as House Bernstein had been close to the 3rd Prince’s faction.

He had even said with his own mouth that he didn’t mind a duel.

Of course, even Leopold hadn’t expected the Ka’har style of dueling to be like that.

What everyone found unexpected was rather the reaction from Ernst’s faction.

Contrary to the nobles’ expectations that they would press charges for the murder of a nobleman, Isabella and Ernst remained silent.

It was incomprehensible.

Leonore was actually pleased.

Though everyone kept quiet for the sake of the princess’s dignity, she reportedly said, “That pig-like man died well.”

As a result, the case of Haschal Median Aishan-Gioro’s murder of a nobleman was quietly concluded.

Officially, at least.

—-

“Ugh… my head……”

I woke up on the bed in the special quarters.

I immediately clutched my temples as pain shot through them.

It felt like my brain had been compressed and then reinflated, causing a terrible throbbing.

What was I doing again…?

My head hurts so much I can’t think…

Oh right. I went to the banquet hall, met Claire and Leopold… and had a glass of wine.

Did I black out from just one glass?

Was this body really that weak with alcohol? That doesn’t make sense.

Didn’t that guy, Mersin or whatever, say that Hersella was strong with alcohol?

More importantly, I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.

“You’re awake.”

I turned my head at the familiar voice.

Nigel was standing beside the bed, looking down at me with somewhat cold eyes.

Not contempt or anything like that, but more like…

The expression of a mother looking down at her troublesome child.

That confirms it. I definitely caused some trouble.

I carefully removed my hand from my temple and spoke cautiously.

“I… can’t remember anything. Did I cause some kind of accident?”

“…Yes, a rather significant one.”

Nigel sighed and handed me a letter.

—-

I will kill you.

– Bernstein.

—-

It was a letter filled with inexplicable hostility.

…What on earth did I do?

“…What is this?”

“It’s a duel challenge sent from House Bernstein. Probably written by the viscountess herself.”

Bernstein?

…Who is that?