I Became The Wife Of The Cursed Grand Duke Chapter 138

Two days later, the oracle was made public. 

 

There was no doubt that the holy woman, who had been unable to perform her duties properly, had broken the defensive enchantments on the relic. 

 

Several high priests confirmed it and reported it to the imperial court. 

 

[The Saint is the next in line to succeed Kalian Van Orpheus, scion of the House of Orpheus, guardian of the Empire, and anyone who denies this is considered a heretic.]

 

The aftermath of the oracle was powerful. 

 

The people were horrified that a holy woman, a messenger of the gods, should be the next in line to the House of Orpheus. Cedric, meanwhile, was equally distraught. 

 

It wasn’t enough that the emperor had been assassinated, but now the oracle.

 

“Your Majesty, these are urgent documents. Please review and approve them!” an aide urged.

 

“Yes,” Cedric replied curtly.

 

Cedric’s office was bustling like no other. 

 

The faces of his newly appointed aides were all familiar, their exhaustion evident from being overworked day and night.

 

“Your Majesty, the people and merchants stranded in the capital are protesting, demanding that the blockade be lifted,” another aide reported.

 

Cedric, sitting at his desk and poring over papers with a serious expression, looked up. 

 

“What? They can’t even last three days, and they’re making all that fuss?”

 

“Three days is not enough for them. Their livelihoods are at stake. I think we need to appease them somehow before they lose their nerve,” the aide explained.

 

“Ha,” Cedric scoffed, leaning back in his chair as a weary expression swept across his face.

 

His breath caught in his throat at the thought of the emperor lying there, his face as pale as a corpse. 

 

‘I almost wish this whole situation was a farce, staged to educate me, a fool.’

 

But he couldn’t just sit there and feel sorry for himself. 

 

The emperor, whom he must rely on, was at the crossroads of life and death, and the Empress was detained in an outbuilding. 

 

The high priest who had attempted to assassinate the emperor with black magic was nowhere to be found.

 

“But we can’t let everyone know that the Empress was involved in the assassination,” Cedric muttered to himself. 

 

His best option was to lock down the capital. If the High Priest was in the capital, it would be quickly discovered, and if he wasn’t, he would surely return.

 

‘What a tragedy,’ Cedric thought inwardly. He blamed the Grand Duke for leaving everything to him and going off to Johannsen. 

 

But he realized that he couldn’t leave the affairs of the Empire to the Grand Duke forever. 

 

‘My father told me, “Just because you were born to defend the empire doesn’t mean you should be in charge of everything.”’

 

Moreover, the fact that the Grand Duke, who knew the secret of his birth, had entrusted him with the affairs of state might be his last chance.

 

‘So let’s not pretend it’s hard,’ Cedric resolved. 

 

With that, he pushed himself up from his desk. “Get ready. I’m going to circle the capital and hear them out myself.” 

 

He needed to set the record straight, if for no other reason than to dispel the already sinister atmosphere. 

 

A look of determination crossed Cedric’s face as he left his office with his aides at his side.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, the sudden announcement of the oracle was met with confusion in the Grand Duchy. 

 

Charlotte sent formal letters of protest to the Imperial Court and the Temple, begging for clarification, but to no avail. 

 

She was even more devastated to learn later that the oracle regarding the Guardian’s succession had already been established and was a secret passed down only to the direct descendants of the family.

 

The knights and servants who had served Evelyn so loyally were left speechless. 

 

They were tongue-tied by their lord’s callousness in allowing the duchess to stay, and they felt sorry for her. 

 

But with the prying eyes of the butler and the handmaiden scanning every inch of the castle, no one dared to speak of it.

 

Another week passed in an eerie atmosphere. Several caravans of wagons rolled into the castle under a heavy blanket of silence. 

 

The sky was overcast, as if it would rain at any moment. 

 

As Benedict checked the inside of the wagons, he felt a familiar shiver run down his back. 

 

It was Mrs. Riktor, her expression as grim as the weather.

 

“Is this the saint’s luggage?” Benedict asked.

 

Mrs. Riktor nodded, scanning the list in silence as always. 

 

“She’s been known to get cold, so we’ll need to make sure she has clothing and bedding. And…” she added, sighing heavily at the sudden overwhelm. 

 

“I understand she will be occupying the room immediately adjacent to His Majesty’s bedchamber, so please prepare accordingly.”

 

Mrs. Riktor’s eyes and mouth dropped open in surprise. “You don’t mean to ask me to give her the master bedroom, do you?”

 

“No, His Majesty is moving them to an outbuilding,” Benedict replied.

 

With the oracle in hand, preparations to welcome the saint moved quickly. 

 

There wasn’t much time to spare before her arrival, but once the handmaids and butlers were under arms, everything went smoothly. 

 

That didn’t mean Mrs. Riktor could relax. Twelve times a day, she wished she could just let go of everything.

 

At Benedict’s words, Mrs. Riktor replied in a low voice, “Did the grand duke say so?” Her gaze turned to the grand duchess as she strolled through the snowy garden. “Her first walk in a week.”

 

Evelyn looked unusually pale standing in the white snow, perhaps because she hadn’t seen the light of day. 

 

She looked precarious, as if she might collapse at any moment and scatter into the air. 

 

‘The heavens are so indifferent. Why would they give such a good person such a trial?’ Mrs. Riktor lamented inwardly.

 

An answer came to her ears like the sound of a crystal ball. 

 

“You had no choice. The oracle has come down. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to watch the next generation of my family.”

 

Mrs. Riktor whirled on her heel to glare at Benedict. 

 

“But to move into an outbuilding together, is that what you mean? I’ll give you an outbuilding, and you can come and go as you please…!” It was not uncommon for aristocratic men to have a mistress, but this was unacceptable. 

 

No matter how much of a tutor the saint was, the Grand Duchess shouldn’t have to give up her room right next to the grand duke’s.

 

‘I wondered if the man who allowed this was the same man I knew,’ Mrs. Riktor thought bitterly.

 

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Benedict warned, but his words fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Riktor’s eyes flushed as she struggled to control her raging emotions.

 

The grand duchess had laughed at the news of the oracle and said she would accept it. But Mrs. Riktor had seen her sobbing under her breath several times. 

 

Each time, her heart broke, but she had nothing to say to comfort her, so she watched from a distance.

 

“Helen, don’t be distracted by useless worries. We’ll do what we can…” Benedict said gently.

 

Mrs. Riktor clutched her throbbing chest in frustration. 

 

“If that’s what you’re saying, then stop it. For I don’t care if you spend the rest of your life in useless fretting, if it’s any consolation to a man who’s been lonely all his life!”

 

As she bemoaned her fate once more, she saw the grand duke approaching the Grand Duchess as she walked.

 

He took off his own coat and wrapped it around her shoulders in a gesture of affection. 

 

A long sigh escaped from their mouths as they wondered why a couple who cared so much for each other should have to go through such a trial.

 

* * *

 

Evelyn went out to the garden to check on the flower seedlings she had planted two months ago. 

 

It had been a week since she had last stepped outside. She hadn’t left her bedroom since the oracle. She had a lot to think about.

 

At first, she was merely confused, unable to understand Kalian’s willingness to follow the oracle to the end if he didn’t know she was a Purifier. 

 

Then, suddenly, she remembered what Erze had said. “She’s half Lindbergh, and Babel is using the Purifier to resurrect her daughter perfectly.” 

 

Her guess was that the saint, Deborah del Lindbergh, was Babel’s daughter.

 

‘What is he thinking? Does he really want to resurrect a saint?’ Evelyn put a hand to her eyes, which burned as if they might burst into tears at any moment.

 

The Kalian she knew was a man who believed very strongly in protecting the oracle. 

 

The tragedy of losing his wife to the oracle in his last life no doubt played a large part in that. So if he found out that Evelyn was having a baby, he would have her removed. 

 

According to the oracle, her having a child was a blasphemy against God.

 

‘I won’t let that happen,’ Evelyn resolved, biting her lip. 

 

She remembered how Kalian had remained silent when asked who it was that Babel’s followers wanted to resurrect. 

 

His questionable behavior had been enough to shatter her steadfast faith, and the growing secrecy between them had made her uneasy.

 

‘No, I can’t take it anymore,’ she thought. 

 

As she mulled over the whole situation, it was only natural that she came to one conclusion. 

 

‘If I’m sacrificed, there’s no way the child will be safe.’ She didn’t want to live with the anxiety of waiting for tragedy to strike at any moment.

 

As Evelyn wandered through the garden, trying to organize her thoughts, she finally found the seedling she had planted and squatted down in front of it. “Ah…” she murmured. 

 

The stem, which had been green and lush until last week, was now wilted and yellowed.

 

‘It doesn’t care how cold it gets,’ she lamented. ‘People and plants alike seem to show it somehow if you don’t give them love.’

 

“Aah!” With a short scream, her index finger, which had been stroking the petals, dripped with black blood.