I Became The Wife Of The Cursed Grand Duke Chapter 144

“This is the envelope for the most recent letter to the Grand Duchess.”

Viktor entered the office, explaining he’d met Mrs. Riktor on his way and taken the envelopes from her.

“One from Fairfield, and one from…”

 

‘Damn.’

 

Kalian’s grip tightened on the envelope stamped with red sealing wax. Blue veins bulged on the backs of his rough hands.

“Is this not the crest of House Orpheus?”

 

A snake emblem glared from the hilt.

Kalian slammed his fist on the table, barely containing his fury. A bitter lump rose in his throat as he swallowed his rage.

Though his knuckles were raw, he felt no pain—not compared to the agony tearing through his heart.

 

Viktor broke the silence cautiously.

“Benjamin went to interrogate the capital’s mansion staff. About a month ago, the Saint—Deborah—sent a letter.”

 

“What did it say?”

 

Kalian had pitied Deborah until now. Whatever Babel’s followers planned, he hadn’t believed it was her will.

But sending letters behind his back? That crossed a line.

 

‘Since she threw herself into my arms when we met, I thought she was harmless. How naive.’

 

“We’re still investigating,” Viktor said, “but they demanded your residential address.”

He hesitated before adding, “Both yours… and His Highness’s.”

 

“Continue.”

 

“I debated whether to tell you this…”

 

Kalian shot him a look. ‘He wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t intend to speak.’

 

Viktor straightened.

“At Viscountess Fairfield’s funeral, Her Highness exhibited… unusual symptoms.”

 

“…”

 

“They matched my wife’s early pregnancy signs so closely that I suggested an examination.”

 

At the word “pregnancy,” Kalian’s mind went blank.

 

“I offered to summon Mr. Mathias, but the grand duchess insisted on seeing a councilor she knew personally.”

 

“Count Bernard?”

 

The pieces clicked together. Without another word, Kalian stormed from the office, leaving Viktor behind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Before departing for the Empire, Kalian detoured to the Magic Guild.

The chances of finding Evelyn here were slim, but desperation drove him.

 

Ines showed no surprise at his dawn visit.

“Either pay the magic tax or get lost.”

 

Kalian’s demanding demeanor left no room for pleasantries.

“Where is my wife? Did you truly think you could steal her from me?”

He shoved past her into the guildhall.

 

Ines sighed, rubbing her temples.

 

“A shame she’s gone. But she left willingly—no theft involved.”

 

“What?”

 

Kalian’s eyes blazed as he turned on the archmage, who stood barely a foot shorter.

“She’s the woman I’ve waited a lifetime for. You think a half-breed like you can take her from me?”

 

“Your wait means nothing. Anyone can see your so-called love is desperation. Don’t pretend it’s pure when heaven and earth know how you’ve treated her.”

 

“Ha.”

 

“More importantly,” Ines continued, “Evelyn asked me to remove your tracking enchantment herself. You’ll never find her. Never.”

 

She emphasized each word like hammer blows, then physically pushed him toward the exit.

“Stop wasting my time. Go contain that plague instead. The very air reeks of wrongness.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Moonless darkness cloaked Bellatra’s lowest dungeon. Before the red sealstone, Julius spoke into the void.

“Will the ruse work?”

 

The stone shuddered. A grating voice answered:

“I’ve watched her for centuries. Born a transcendent, she cannot ignore mortal suffering.”

 

Babel’s voice faded as he retreated into thought.

‘If House Orpheus breeds guardians, House Lindbergh spawns transcendents. The gods’ cruel joke—falling for a saint.’

 

But the mockery deepened. With Deborah’s birth came an oracle:

[The continent will fall to ruin by one who unites good and evil.]

 

‘A demon and saint’s union—my daughter’s fate.’

Even saintly Helene couldn’t accept this. Using her own holy artifact, she sacrificed herself to seal both Babel and Deborah away.

 

Yet while bodies could be imprisoned, souls escaped.

Babel manipulated a paladin from the raiding party, ensuring Deborah was hidden in the temple’s depths.

 

Years passed. When the First Guardian was born, Babel sought a Lindbergh transcendent—Daphne, Evelyn’s past life.

 

‘The irony—Guardian and transcendent drawn together as if destined.’

Babel’s plans unraveled as Kylus and Daphne fell in love.

 

‘Reincarnation was necessary.’ Using Daphne’s body magic, Babel prepared Deborah’s rebirth.

 

But Kylus, defying the oracle, fled with Daphne—only to kill her and himself in despair, trapping them in an endless cycle.

 

‘This time, no mistakes.’

Babel turned to Julius, raised in darkness. Their plan: seduce a guardian’s woman, gift her power, make her their pawn.

 

Claudia proved perfect—weak, wicked, beautiful.

Julius bewitched the transcendent’s mother, erased her memory, abandoned her in his foster daughter’s hunting grounds.

 

‘No wonder the paladin noticed such beauty.’

Certain their daughter was the transcendent, Julius awaited her maturity—when her flesh and blood could resurrect Deborah.

 

But cracks appeared.

Though they’d disguised her as a saint, the damned Guardian embraced the transcendent as if spellbound.

 

“The Guardian cares nothing for humans, but she’s different.”

 

‘Past failures taught me—force won’t separate them.’

“A kind transcendent won’t ignore plague victims. She’ll come, even if it risks her.”

 

Julius sneered.

“So we lure the Duchess by spreading death? How poetic—her compassion becomes her weakness.”

 

‘Just as the Guardian’s newfound mercy weakens him.’

Julius smiled coldly.

‘This time, we destroy them both.’