I Became The Wife Of The Cursed Grand Duke Chapter 154

Evelyn always wondered about it, even though she knew it didn’t matter now.

“My mother said she was both threatened and protected by someone.”

Her tone was deliberately casual.

“That’s why I sometimes resented the protecting forces, wondering why they let her give birth to me.”

 

If they had truly protected Marcella, they would have known the temple would take her.

But they did nothing.

Whatever their purpose, to Evelyn, the Protectorate was complicit through inaction.

 

Her brow furrowed as she plucked a strawberry from its stem and popped it into her mouth.

“I’ve thought about it for a while, and I’ve reached one conclusion: they needed me too.”

 

Ines remained silent.

Her lack of denial only confirmed Evelyn’s suspicions.

Rather than voicing her darkest thoughts, Evelyn started with the obvious.

 

“Anyway, your coming here means you need my help.”

 

She threw open the window, letting in the morning sun.

 

“But Ines, I’m not returning to the North.”

“……”

“Because—as you already know—I have something I must keep.”

 

Ines’s eyelids fluttered. She’d been still as a statue until now.

“Yes.”

Her voice carried unexpected emotion.

“I didn’t come to ask for a favor.”

 

Her gaze dropped to Evelyn’s abdomen, where two fetuses lay wrapped in opalescent magic.

“If you can see that and still not beg me to help close the otherworldly gate, you’re out of your mind.”

 

Ines muttered the words, then sighed heavily.

“It’s true I watched over Marcella for years. True that I allowed her to bear you, the Purifier.”

 

Evelyn’s thoughts stuttered. Even expecting this confession, the bluntness left her reeling.

‘How dare she say this to me—to Marcella’s daughter?’

 

“I suppose you needed me,” Evelyn said coldly, “to break the curse on my body and harness my magic.”

 

Ines nodded.

 

A spark of anger flashed in Evelyn’s eyes—yet suddenly, Ines’s behavior made sense.

Understanding didn’t excuse it.

“So… Leon was your plant?”

 

‘It doesn’t matter now. I’d already decided to leave. Better to walk away with eyes open.’

 

“No.”

Ines shook her head.

“That was my initial intention. I sent Reah to the Count’s estate to monitor you.”

 

The shameless admission sent a chill down Evelyn’s spine.

 

Her pale green eyes turned glacial.

 

“You’re more calculating than you appear.”

 

“I thought so too—until I saw how those two treated you.”

 

The Magic Guild Ines founded after leaving the tower was secretly a shield against Babel’s schemes.

And Leon—

“He did nothing wrong. His only task was to protect you.”

 

He’d fulfilled that duty flawlessly, even refusing Ines when her true goals conflicted with Evelyn’s safety.

 

“Can I get you water?”

Ines’s uncharacteristic nervousness made Evelyn arch a brow, but she poured the glass without comment.

 

“Get to the point. What did you gain by ‘protecting’—no, using—me?”

“Nothing urgent. Must you be so crude after all these years?”

 

‘Why the sudden coyness?’ Evelyn stared, baffled.

 

Yes, Ines had helped her—but only while hiding the truth.

As Evelyn opened her mouth to retort, Ines took a sharp breath.

 

“In a way, my desire mirrors Babel’s. I’ve waited just as long for your rebirth.”

 

Evelyn’s expression hardened.

 

Ines hurried to clarify:

 

“But our goals aren’t the same. My mission is to stop Babel—even if it means sacrificing my own flesh.”

 

Evelyn studied her face, struggling to reconcile the words.

“Babel wants to use my blood and body to resurrect his daughter. What does your ‘waiting’ mean?”

 

“That… requires a long story.” Ines glanced at Evelyn’s belly. “If you can sit through it.”

 

At Evelyn’s nod, Ines began—her tone detached, as if recounting a folktale.

 

The tale centered on Helene, the Lindbergh family’s first matriarch and the original saint.

‘Erze’s version claimed Helene was Babel’s lover, bearing his child—a daughter preserved in the temple’s depths after death. What does this have to do with me?’

Evelyn bit back her impatience.

 

“As generations passed,” Ines continued, “Babel sought a Lindbergh Purifier, hoping their regenerative power could resurrect his daughter.”

 

Then Ines lifted her head.

Her odd-eyed gaze burned with something raw.

 

“I never agreed. Deborah—my daughter—should never have existed.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bellatra Village

 

Deborah slipped past her oblivious priests and fled the inn, barely pausing for breath before her carriage reached Bellatra’s corpse-tainted outskirts.

 

The moment she passed the gates, cheers erupted.

“Saint Deborah! Bless us!”

“Please heal my father!”

 

Deborah’s face twisted in disgust.

“Wait!” She raised a hand, halting the advancing crowd. “I have news first. Blessings come later.”

 

‘Ugh. Their stench—rotting flesh and unwashed sickness.’

The idea of touching their gnarled hands made her stomach churn.

 

Instead, she climbed a straw bale, drawing all eyes.

“The Saint brings tidings! Rejoice!”

 

The quarantine zone’s clearing, once desolate, now buzzed with the sick, their families, and capital physicians.

 

‘Good. No priests in sight.’

Their absence confirmed the temple’s neglect—and the rift between priesthood and crown.

 

‘If a grand duke can’t control his own clergy, how could he rule an empire?’

 

Deborah fantasized about the crown on her own head, her subjects groveling—even Kalian kneeling, lovestruck.

 

‘But first… the Grand Duchess must vanish.’

 

Steadying herself, she addressed the murmuring crowd:

“I am no saint.”

 

Confusion rippled as she descended.

“What?”

“Your Highness…?”

“But the papers said—”

 

Someone thrust forward a newspaper, its portrait of the Grand Duchess sparking comparisons.

 

Deborah smiled beatifically.

Her plan, hatched at the inn, was simple: impersonate Evelyn, stage a failed purification, and let the blame fall on the missing grand duchess.

 

‘Then I’ll feign illness, return to the capital, and let rumors paint her as a traitor.’

 

“Correct,” she declared. “I am the Grand Duchess of Orpheus, here to cleanse this land in the saint’s stead!”