He’s My Real Brother, Duke Chapter 162
“Sca, scary…”
I quickly checked the wolf’s condition. The wolf was looking at me with meek eyes again, as if wondering when it had gotten aggressive. Its round eyes were only warm.
“Something must have happened to make him uncomfortable. He’s usually so gentle.”
The wolf’s tail wagged gently at my words, and I realized the identity of the ghostly feeling in my heart.
It was Knox. There was something about his aura that reminded me of Knox, but I quickly shook it off.
No matter how much I wanted to see him…
To think such a thing.
Knox was currently in the Fulun Mountains.
Besides, we were imprinted.
If this wolf were Knox, I’d instinctively recognize him when I petted him.
After all, whenever I’ve cuddled with him, his slightly hot breath has been soothingly calming.
‘The imprints are fading a lot these days, but still, I don’t think…’
I rubbed the wolf’s back. His fur was warm, but it didn’t tickle me like it had when I’d cuddled with Knox. I didn’t feel like I was feverish. I stroked the wolf’s furry brow affectionately, thinking to myself.
‘This wolf can’t be Knox.’
After a short, disappointed pause, I lifted the teaspoon and stirred the tea. A tiny whirlpool formed in the cup.
Had I given away my feelings?
The conversation at the table turned to the Duke of Anais.
“Speaking of beasts… His Grace the Duke did not attend this tea party, did he?”
I smiled, trying to stare away from the turbulent tea water.
“Ah, yes.”
The older ladies, well aware of Knox’s notoriety, were silent, but the younger ones were different, their eyes shining with curiosity and chattering.
“It’s a shame His Grace the Duke of Anais couldn’t join us.”
“I know.”
“His fame has already reached the capital, and we can’t see him there. I wonder when he’s going to be betrothed…”
“Be quiet, Liliana.”
Madame Boudin raised her hand to stop her daughter.
“…You’ll get in trouble if you talk like that in the Duke’s presence.”
She was trying to calm her daughter down, but the atmosphere had gotten so quiet that she could have heard it.
It’s not like he’s a tiger or anything…
To break the ice, I decided to take Knox’s side.
“His Grace the Duke of Anais was a good man, he recognized my talent and sponsored me, he’s a generous man, so I’m sure he’ll be fine with what the young ladies had to say.”
It was a way to praise myself for my talent and Knox for recognizing me.
The Young Ladies, who had noticed this, quickly picked up on the mood and spoke up.
“Then, yes, yes! Will we see him again in the capital later?”
I glanced at their expressions, which were a mixture of wonder and fear, and nodded lightly.
“…Yes, of course. I wonder if He will stay in the capital when He returns from the Fulun Mountains, though I dare not foretell His will.”
“Surely… the forces of that ruined prince have all been annihilated?”
“Perhaps, by now.”
There was no need to continue the conversation on this topic.
The noblewomen and young ladies at the table began to rant and rave about the faction of the fallen prince.
Some of them even expressed outrage, saying, “How can they accuse our family?”
For a long time, they talked in low voices. They talked in hushed tones about the families that disappeared when the crown prince abdicated.
For the most part, the tea time went smoothly, but there were a few odd moments.
Every time I heard the words ‘warlock’, ‘accused’, or ‘prince’ in the middle of a conversation, the wolf at my feet let out a weak howl.
I reached down, out of habit, and stroked the wolf’s back.
As soon as I stroked the silky fur on his back, he became gentle.
💫
Contrary to everyone’s expectations, the last of the fallen prince’s surviving servants, the warlocks, had infiltrated the capital far too easily.
He lost all of his remaining servants and was finally left alone.
Only one word was burned into Oscar’s mind, the same word that had been brainwashed into him by Cornwall.
‘The way to cause the most pain to everyone is to kill Astel, the wench.’
Cornwall had brainwashed him when he was in hiding in the imperial palace after losing his original body.
Though he firmly believed he could not be defeated, he planned to kill Astel through Oscar, just in case.
The plan worked brilliantly, even after his death.
Even as he was being hunted down as the Scourge of the Fallen, the words ‘kill Astel’ were constantly echoing in Oscar’s head.
Cornwall, the last thing the deceased left behind.
Stuffing the tool of chaos into his suit pocket, Oscar arrived in front of Count Vietry.
He swept his hand across the black shadows under his eyes, which were cast in a sinister glow as he watched the people laughing and giggling.
The roughness of his skin, different in texture from his smooth one, reminded him that he had become someone else.
It was an unavoidable side effect of using face-morphing magic to wear the skin of another.
I apologize to Viscount Pellen for the deaths he suffered in this endeavor, but he had a greater purpose in killing Astel.
He stood tall at Count Vietry’s front door, looking straight at the knight who stood guard at the gate.
“I am Hobern Pellen, second lord of the Viscount Pellen.”
“What? The second lord of the Viscount Pellen?”
He nodded, not opening his mouth.
The knights shook their heads at his grim expression.
One of the knights turned to the man in front of him and spewed partly accusatory words.
“Your tailcoat is a bit ragged for a party, and Viscount Pellen’s second lord is not on the invitation list…”
Suspicious gazes turned to Oscar.
“Oh, come to think of it, where are the invitations?”
Oscar smirked at the question. He slipped his hand into his inside pocket as if to show the invitation, and immediately activated his brainwashing tool.
“The invitation, didn’t you just get it?”
Now they’ll think it’s ‘Hobern Pellen, Viscount Pellen, who’s invited to the party’, and they’ve just seen the invitation.
It’s a very crude trick, and only an hour from now they’ll realize they’ve been tricked…
“Oh, you did, didn’t you?”
“Come on in. It’s in the garden near the balcony on the second floor.”
At last, the door of Count Vietry’s estate opened toward him.
He walked up to the garden inside the mansion, trying to steady his staggering steps.
It wasn’t far from the garden where the tea party was being held.
Of course, there was a second gate before entering the garden.
“What family are you a part of?”
The knight’s demanding question was met with the same demeanor as before.
“Pellen.”
“Pellen…?”
It was a questioning tone.
Once again, he activated the brainwashing tool.
As if the insinuation had worked, the knight’s eyes rapidly clouded over.
He turned away and muttered, “…You may enter.”
He strode past the night and into the flower archway where the tea party was taking place.
‘I can’t manipulate everyone’s minds with these tricks, so I need to kill this thing as soon as possible.’
There were several people in attendance who were skilled in magic, and the protective spell of House Vietry was still tightening around him.
Oscar gasped for breath and looked quickly around the garden. He could see the nobles seated in small groups among the beautiful flowers.
Servants and maids carried trolleys filled with tea cups and delicacies.
Hatred danced in his eyes.
All his people were dead.
These people are not even blissfully innocent. He will avenge the death of Cornwall and give them a nightmare they won’t forget.
To do that, he had to find Astel.
He remembered Astel’s description. Blonde hair, green eyes. A small, delicate woman with pure white skin.
His bloodshot eyes darted around the room.
An ornate crystal fountain spewing water from its center.
Servants and maids bustled about attending to the nobles, the raucous laughter that broke out between conversations…
And the only stranger standing in the middle of it all, the shabby man himself.
He clenched his fists in exasperation at his plight.
And just then…
Astel stepped into his line of sight.
A blonde girl, her beautiful eyes twinkling, smiling innocently.
Cornwall’s words echoed in his mind.
‘You must kill her,’ he said.
His grim gaze was beginning to come to life.
One of the servants beside him raised an eyebrow as if sensing something was amiss.
“Young Master, why are you standing still?”
He mumbled something innocently, but he couldn’t hide the chill in his voice.
“…I’m going to find my place.”
His seat, of course, meant directly in front of Astel.
The servant, hearing his voice trembling badly, gave him a questioning look.
But that was it. For he staggered on, as if he had found his goal.
Step by step, he moved toward Astel.
It wasn’t long before he was three steps away from Astel. Sensing something was off, Astel pointed at him as he approached the table.
“What’s going on? This table is not the place for the Young Lords to gather.”
“…”
He took another step, closer, without answering.
The other Young Ladies also looked at him puzzled.
“My Lord?”
“What…”
“Are you Viscount Pellen’s Young Master? Why have you suddenly come to where the ladies are gathered to talk?”
Seems she had a better sense than the others.
Seeing my frosty expression, she clamped her mouth shut, as if she’d intuited something.
Oscar smirked.
Astel’s trembling eyes locked on his.
There was no time to waste. He stepped closer with a grimace and slipped his hand inside his chest, grasping the poisoned knife.
The thought of killing Astel now filled me with pleasure.
“Now you—”
But there was a pause.
The wolf lying flat at Astel’s feet turned to him. It was a docile creature, surely not baring a single tooth, but its demeanor was uncharacteristic.
He let out a short breath, feeling strangely overwhelmed, but he had no intention of backing down.
Instead of speaking, he quickly drew his poisoned blade.
Without delay, he lunged at Astel. The sharpened blade flew across the air in a sweeping motion, straight for Astel’s heart.
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