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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 15: Imam (5)

Chapter 15: Imam (5)

Among‌‌​ the servants, murmurs‍ could be heard.⁠‌

Diella‍ was hiding beneath‌⁠ the damaged platform,⁠​ and Leigh, using‍‍ his magic, was‌⁠ preparing a first-tier‌​‌ spell.

This⁠ was no longer‍​‍ a formal magic​ duel where etiquette⁠ and magical skill⁠ were exchanged; it‌​ had become a real fight. Chief​​ Steward Delron swallowed‍‍ hard as he‍ watched.

Technically,​ the magical duel⁠ still didn’t meet⁠‌ the criteria for⁠⁠ being stopped. No‍⁠ one had crossed‍​‍ the boundaries, and‌ the protection circle‌​ hadn’t been triggered‌ either.

But⁠⁠ could this still⁠ be called a magical duel? Was‌​​ it right not⁠⁠‍ to intervene in‌ a situation where‍​ the fighters were‍⁠ now emotionally battling⁠‌ each other?

No‍​ orders came from‌⁠‌ Duke Duplain, who⁠⁠ was watching from‌ the balcony. He⁠‌ simply watched the⁠‌ duel with a serious gaze.

Steward⁠ Delron considered intervening⁠ under his own​ authority, but the​‍​ determined expressions of​‌⁠ the two combatants,​‍ gritting their teeth‍ in battle, stopped‍ him.

Crash!‍​‌ Crack!

Leigh‍ dashed between the‌‍​ ice pillars, organizing⁠‌‍ his thoughts. If⁠‌ he tried to⁠‌ break through the‌‍‌ floor of the‌ platform to chase⁠ Diella, she would⁠​​ sense the magic‌ and launch her⁠ attack.

At​ that moment, Leigh​ would have to⁠​⁠ halt his spell‍‌ or switch to‌​⁠ defensive magic. The‌⁠​ stalemate would continue.‍⁠‌

Amid⁠ this mental tug-of-war,⁠ Leigh realized something.‌​ Diella was prolonging‍​ this stalemate to‌ exhaust his magic​​⁠ power.

Leigh,​​ recklessly casting first-tier‍ spells, and Diella,‍ merely repeating basic‍ magic.

Though⁠‌ their magical abilities​​‌ differed, it was‌ clear who would​ tire first.

Swish!‌‌‌

Leigh‌‍ jumped up onto‌ the platform.

Even⁠ though his footsteps​ echoed below, Diella​ didn’t materialize her⁠‌ magic. As expected.‌

Diella⁠‌‌ only intervened when‍‍⁠ Leigh began casting,‌ clearly forcing a war of attrition.‍

‘Smart​⁠‍ move! But… it’s‌ just a petty‍ trick…!’

A magic duel is‌​​ essentially a test​​ of magical power,⁠‌ but in this‍ situation, there was‌‍ no need to​ stick to etiquette‌⁠‌ and rely only⁠‌‌ on magic.

Leigh‍​​ struck the platform​ wall and grabbed⁠ the flagpole on​ the edge.

The‍‍⁠ Duplain family banner‌ waved from the‌ pole. Without hesitation,‌ Leigh kicked the‌‌‌ base of the‌​ pole upward, muscles‌⁠ in his arm‌‍‌ bulging with veins.‌

Diella’s​‍ attacks only reached⁠ the top of​ the platform. If‍ he went higher,‌​‌ she couldn’t strike​‌ an unseen target​‌ through the platform.‌‌⁠ From up there,‍​‍ even if bombarded⁠‍⁠ by magic, Diella‍ wouldn’t be able⁠‌‌ to respond.

However,‌ there was a drawback. Clinging to​​ the flagpole made‍ proper spellcasting difficult,⁠​ reducing both his⁠​ magic and mobility.‌

If‌ he used magic⁠ now to break⁠ the platform, he’d‌​ become an easy⁠ target for Diella’s‍ spells.

Maybe⁠⁠‌ Diella was counting‍⁠‌ on this. But‌‌ Leigh went one⁠‍‍ step further.

Leigh⁠​‍ untied his cloak‌⁠​ and wrapped it‌‍ around the flagpole.‌​

Then,​​‍ he gathered his‍​​ magic and imbued‌‍ the base of⁠ the pole with‍​ the first-tier spell​​ Magic Arrow.

Bang!‌

Crack,​‍ creeaak!

The‍​‍ flagpole, struck hard‍⁠ at its base,‌‍ almost toppled. Ignoring‌⁠ the gasps of‍‌‍ the servants, Leigh⁠‍ shifted his weight⁠​ toward the platform,‌ gripping the cloaked​‍ pole. He was⁠ directing the fall‍ of the pole‍⁠⁠ toward the platform.​

Using‌‌ the collapsed pole,⁠‌⁠ he would smash‍‌ the platform to⁠​ pieces. Without using​‍‌ magic to break⁠⁠ it, Diella wouldn’t⁠‌ have time to‍​ react, and he’d‌ also create an​​ entrance to the​‍ space beneath the‌​ platform where she​ was hiding.

In‌​‍ this moment, Leigh​‍ was confident in​ his victory. His‍ resolve wouldn’t waver‌​ even if the‍​ sky split in‍ two.

Creeak!⁠‌‌

Bang!‌

Thus,‌ the flagpole crashed‌‌ into the platform,‌‌‌ kicking up a cloud of dust.‍‍

Leigh,​⁠‍ on the verge‍‍‍ of falling, leapt​ aside and rolled​​ across the stage.‌​⁠ Covered in dust,‌⁠‌ he ignored it⁠​ and looked to‌ where the pole‌ had embedded itself.​⁠

One​‍‌ side of the‌ wooden platform had⁠ collapsed. The geographical‍​ advantage that had​​‌ protected Diella was​‍‍ now gone.

Without​ hesitation, Leigh dove‍​⁠ into the rubble.‌⁠

Crash!‌⁠⁠

It⁠‌​ wasn’t difficult to⁠​⁠ anticipate the landing.⁠⁠‍

Though‍​ the ice pillars‌⁠ summoned by Diella⁠ surrounded him, Leigh‍ quickly used magic​​ to destroy them.‌⁠ Brushing off his​⁠ hands, he looked‍‌ around to locate​‍​ Diella.

Beneath​‍​ the damaged platform.‌⁠

Sunlight‌​‍ occasionally filtered through​⁠ cracks in the‌⁠​ broken wood, but​ most of the​‌⁠ area was dark‌‍ despite the bright​‌​ day. He looked‌‍‍ for Diella, but⁠​‍ she was nowhere​​ in sight.

‘…What?​‍⁠ Did she climb‌​ out?’

As⁠⁠​ Leigh examined the‌⁠​ area, he saw‍ the hole Diella​‍ had previously sealed​ with ice was‌⁠ open again.

Beneath‍ the hole were‌ remnants of ice‍‌ pillars that looked​‍‍ like they had​‌⁠ been stepped on.​

When​ Leigh had shown‍ signs of breaking‌ through the platform​⁠‌ and descending, Diella‌⁠ had prepared to‍ ascend instead.

‘That…⁠‍ damn cunning rat…!’‍⁠⁠

She⁠ had no intention‌ of fighting on‍ equal footing. If‌ there was a gap in skill,​⁠ she would use‍⁠ terrain and tactics‌‌⁠ to disorient her​‌ opponent.

That⁠‍ was the fighting‌​ style of a mercenary—living a life‍ where one never‍‌‍ knew when or‍ where they might⁠ face a stronger⁠⁠​ enemy.

Above​⁠‌ and below the​ platform. Their positions‍‍ had reversed. Now,⁠ Diella stood atop‍‍ the platform, and⁠‌⁠ Leigh was below.​​‌ The situation had​ completely flipped.

Leigh‍‍ stayed calm. As​‌​ he had just‌⁠ experienced, climbing up‍​‌ onto the platform⁠‌‍ and indirectly revealing‌‌ his location was‌​ a significant disadvantage.‌⁠​ Now that he‌‍ occupied the space​ beneath, he had⁠‍‌ the upper hand—or⁠‍ at least, no​‍ worse off.

He‍⁠ could either climb​ back up or‌⁠ locate Diella from⁠​‌ below and bring⁠⁠ her down with‌‌ one strike.

As​​​ soon as he‍ heard her footsteps,‌​ a magic arrow‍ shot toward them.⁠‍‌

Crack!‍‌ Bang!

The‍‌ magic arrow hit‌⁠ just beneath Diella’s‌​ feet, shattering the‌‍ platform.

At‌‍ the same time,‍​‌ Diella, who had⁠⁠⁠ been standing above,‍‍ was forced to‌‌⁠ fall.

Crack!‌‍⁠ Thud!

When‌‍‍ Diella landed beneath‌​‌ the platform, another⁠​‍ cloud of dust​⁠ rose.

The​ thick dust made‍‌ it hard to‌ see, but her⁠‌ presence could be‌‍ felt nearby. Leigh‍ prepared three more‍‍‌ magic arrows and​⁠ fired them at‌ Diella’s location.

Bang!⁠​ Bang! Bang!

The⁠ impact dispersed the‍⁠ dust, but the‍⁠​ protection circle didn’t​‌ activate. He had‍ missed.

Leigh‌‌​ quickly stood and‌ ran, cursing under⁠​ his breath. Before⁠⁠‍ Diella could reposition‍ and resume her⁠ hit-and-run tactics, he​‍ gathered his magic,‍‌⁠ determined to end‌ it now.

And⁠‌ there she was,‌ visible through the⁠‍ dust.

In⁠ that moment, Leigh’s​​‌ pupils trembled.

Blood‍​ dripped down one⁠‌ side of the​ girl’s forehead—probably a wound from the​‌​ fall.

She⁠ moved fine, so‍​ it wasn’t serious,⁠‌ but Leigh understood‌​‍ the significance of‌ even a scratch​⁠‌ on a noble‌⁠ lady’s body. Covered‌ in dust, she​‍ shook her cloak,‍ once again channeling‌⁠ magic. Her eyes‍‍ were filled with‌ venom.

Yes—venom.​​ Since childhood, Leigh‌ had seen that‍ venom in Diella’s‍⁠ eyes—a relentless drive‌‍ to achieve her‍‌ goal by any‍‌ means.

Sometimes⁠‍‍ it was in⁠​‍ painting, sometimes in‌‌⁠ magic. The girl‌ would push herself⁠‌ to death to‍ reach something, but‍ always ended up‍‍ grasping at air.​⁠ When sincerity bore‍​​ no fruit, the​‌⁠ extraordinary retaliation was​‌⁠ an endless void.‌‍⁠

And​​‍ when she had‍‌ nowhere to turn,​​ that venom turned‍‍ inward, tormenting the‌‌‌ servants just to​‌ maintain her noble‍‌ authority and hold‌​‌ on to her⁠⁠ last sense of‌​‍ value.

As​ always, she would⁠​⁠ sit in the​⁠ pavilion, eyes hollow,​‌ letting the days⁠ slip by meaninglessly.​‍‌

Watching‍ her, Leigh had‌‌‌ always thought: that’s⁠⁠‍ just who Diella​⁠‌ was. But the‍‌ direction of that‌ venom was everything.‌‍

If​⁠ guided properly, it‌⁠⁠ could become wings‍⁠‌ on someone’s back.‌⁠​

Creak!‌

Defending‍ herself with ice‌ pillars, Diella looked​⁠‍ exhausted. Unlike Leigh,‍​​ summoning magic repeatedly‍‍⁠ was significantly more‌⁠ draining for her.‍‍⁠ She seemed to⁠​‌ have reached her⁠ limit.

Unfortunately,⁠‌ Leigh wasn’t someone⁠ who showed mercy‌ just because someone‍⁠⁠ was bleeding.

As‍ he approached, ready‌ to launch his⁠‍ final magic arrow—‌​⁠

“Aargh!”‌‍​

Diella​ grabbed a fistful​‍⁠ of dirt from‍ the ground and‍‌‌ flung it into‍⁠ Leigh’s eyes. A tactic no noble‍⁠‍ would ever consider.‍‌ As Leigh stumbled‌ back, clutching his‌ eyes, she kicked​‍ him in the⁠​⁠ stomach, sending his‍‍‌ cloak flying.

Crash!⁠

She‍ tried to strike⁠​ him with an​‌​ ice pillar, but‍‌ he, eyes red‍⁠​ and teeth clenched,​ blocked the attack.​​

Swish!​ Thud! Thud!

Through‌ the shattered ice⁠ pillars—destroyed by Leigh’s​‍⁠ magic—Diella’s strained expression⁠ could be seen.⁠

Leigh‍ could clearly read​ her determination.

She⁠⁠‌ wanted to win.⁠

To‌​‌ win no matter⁠‍‌ what. To prove⁠‌‌ her worth through‍​‌ victory. Protecting her⁠ teacher or whatever⁠⁠ came next was‍ secondary. Right now,⁠‌ Diella simply wanted​⁠‌ to win by​‍​ any means. Her‍‌ eyes blazed with‌⁠⁠ a fierce desire‌⁠​ for victory.

Could‌⁠‍ this really be‌ the same girl—the‍‍​ one with cold,‍‍‍ empty eyes who​‌⁠ had once been⁠ locked in the‌‌​ pavilion?

Leigh‌ swallowed hard and‍‍‍ clenched his teeth.⁠​​ But that didn’t​ mean he could‌ afford to lose.‍‍

Taking‌​‌ advantage of Leigh’s‍ hesitation, Diella kicked⁠​ the broken flagpole‍‍ and climbed it.‌ Her movements were‌ nimble, befitting someone⁠ who once painted​‌ landscapes and roamed‍​​ forests—but still, it​‌ was a futile​⁠ struggle.

Every‍​ variable she had‌‌ prepared was completely⁠‌ neutralized. Leigh followed,⁠‍​ kicking off the‌​ pole and ascending​‌ the platform.

There,⁠​ Diella waited, gathering⁠⁠‍ the last of‍‌​ her magic.

“Think‌ of it as⁠‍ a painting.”

Under​⁠ the night sky,‍​⁠ a white-haired former⁠​ mercenary once said.‍‍⁠

Gazing‍‌‌ at the stars,‌ dense as salt,​ he used the⁠⁠⁠ vast sky as‍ a canvas, tracing‍​ lines with his​‍ finger.

As⁠ he drew constellations‌ between the stars,​‌‍ magic had already⁠ begun forming at⁠ his fingertips.

The‍⁠ girl, her eyes‌​ full of starlight,​⁠ watched the world,‍ longing to capture‍‍ it in her‍ art.

She​‍‍ stood before a canvas, brush in⁠​‍ hand, gazing into​‌ the forested night.‍⁠‌ As she painted​ the solitary moon⁠‌​ above, it seemed​ she could see‍ the magical essence⁠⁠ in all things.‍​‌

A warm night breeze.​‍‍ A lone zelkova⁠⁠ tree in a grassy field.

Spring.⁠‍ Night. And stars.‌​

If​ magic was the‌⁠ act of materializing‌‍ one’s imagination into‌‌⁠ reality, how was‌⁠⁠ it different from‌‍‌ painting? Magic was‌ her art, spells‍ her brush, and‍⁠ a single painting‌ was magic made‍ manifest.

And​​‍ so, the girl‍⁠ painted the world⁠‍⁠ with a brush‌​‍ soaked in color.⁠‍

Swish!​​

As⁠ her white-haired master⁠‌⁠ had suggested, she‌ drew a stroke‍‍ of magic. She​⁠ loved the moment⁠⁠ she placed the‍ first stroke on‌‍⁠ a blank canvas.⁠‍‍ The magic forming​⁠​ at her fingertips‍⁠ surrounded her body,‍ and with a squeeze, it gathered⁠‌ at her fingertips⁠⁠⁠ and bloomed into⁠​ a flower.

Leigh,⁠⁠⁠ preparing his magic⁠‍⁠ on the platform,⁠⁠ opened his eyes​⁠ in surprise. Covered‌⁠ in dust, stripped​ of any noble‌‍​ dignity, and with​‍ a streak of‌ blood across her​ eye that added‌​ fierceness to her⁠‌ gaze.

The‌‍ servants, who had‍ rushed to the⁠​ stage thinking it⁠ was time to​‌ intervene, now froze⁠​ in place.

Swish!⁠⁠​

From‍⁠ the girl’s fingertips,‍​ the one-star spell⁠ Ice Lance was‍‍​ born. The frozen‍‍ spear floated around⁠ her and then⁠‍ shot toward Leigh​⁠⁠ at an incredible​‌⁠ speed.

The​ lance, too fast​ to follow with⁠‌​ the eyes, filled‌ Leigh’s vision.

“Argh!”​‍‌

Leigh‍ clenched his teeth⁠‌ and began his‌⁠ incantation. A one-star‌‍ spell, launched so‍‌ suddenly by Diella—someone⁠‍‌ he didn’t believe‌ could break through‍​‍ his defense.

It​ was unexpected, but‍‌ all he had‌​‌ to do was‌‍ block it and⁠ counterattack immediately. Diella‌‌ had likely used⁠​⁠ up her last⁠⁠​ reserve of mana​​ and had no⁠ defense left.

So‍ Leigh lowered his​ stance and gathered⁠​ mana. He focused‌​ all his thoughts​⁠ on dodging the⁠​‍ Ice Lance and​‌‌ firing a mana‌‍ arrow at Diella.‌​⁠

Bang!⁠

Once⁠ again, dust exploded⁠‌‌ across the stage,​‍ and in the‌‍⁠ center of it,⁠ a protective spell‍‍‌ activated.

The⁠‍⁠ appearance of the⁠⁠ protection spell meant‍ the duel was​ over. The followers‍‌⁠ and servants, who⁠‌‌ had been silently​⁠ watching the rising‌​ dust, swallowed hard.‌‌

Everyone‌​​ wondered about the‌‌​ result of this‍‌‌ desperate fight.

Then…​ the dust slowly⁠ began to clear.‍‍​

Ugh⁠​‍

And‍⁠ the one whose‌​‍ protection spell had⁠ activated… was Diella.‌

Exhausted,​​​ she collapsed, clenching⁠‍‌ her teeth as⁠ her protection spell‌‌ triggered.

Gasp…​‌ gasp…

Leigh‌ rolled across the‍ ground, having narrowly‌⁠ dodged the Ice​‌ Lance. Somehow, he‌‌ had managed to‌​ fire his final‌ shot at Diella.​‍

Completely⁠ spent, Leigh struggled⁠ to rise. Soon‌⁠ after, tears began‌ to stream from‍​⁠ Diella’s eyes as⁠ she lay gasping​ on the floor.​⁠

It‌​⁠ was Diella’s defeat.​​

“…”⁠

And⁠‌ then, so overwhelmed‌ by her loss,‌‍ Diella began to‌⁠‌ sob uncontrollably. Leigh‌‍ could only stare‍‍​ in astonishment.

***⁠‌

‘She‌ used a one-star‌​⁠ spell…?’

The‍​ duel itself hadn’t⁠​‍ lasted long. Only‌ a few minutes.⁠​​

But​‍‌ in that brief‌‍ time, the stage⁠‍‍ had collapsed, dust‍​ had flown, and​ a fierce battle⁠ had erupted in‍⁠​ an instant.

In‌​‌ the heavy atmosphere,​ during the sudden​⁠‍ turn of events,‌​ Duke Duplain had⁠​‍ not bothered to‌‍‍ order a halt.‌‍​

He‍ had stopped himself‍ with the intuition⁠‍ that he had⁠‍ to watch what‍ would unfold.

“What‌‍ is this…? What​⁠ is going on…!‌‍ Is this even‍ reasonable?! So reckless‌​‌ and filthy…!”

“…”​⁠‌

Miriela,‍‍ watching beside him,‌ ground her teeth​‍ and exclaimed.

“No⁠‌‍ dignity, only dirt—and​ they call this‍ a magic duel…!”⁠‌​

“…”‌

“I‌⁠⁠ can’t just stand​‌​ here and watch​⁠ this anymore! That‌ so-called magic tutor.​​‍ Did he teach‍⁠‌ all of this⁠‍​ to Diella? To‌‍‌ a noble lady‍ of our Duplain‍‍ family, who must​ always remain dignified⁠⁠​ and aristocratic—he planted​​ such nonsense in‍⁠‍ her?!”

Miriela⁠⁠ rushed out onto⁠ the balcony, breathless,​ and the nearby‌‌‌ servants hurried after⁠ her. She looked‍⁠ ready to grab‍ Dereck by the⁠ collar and confront‍⁠‍ him then and‍ there.

The‌ Grand Duke Duplain‌⁠ did not let‌​ Miriela’s anger reach‍ his ears.

Regardless⁠‌ of her words,‌ he only watched‌​‍ Diella crying on​ the stage.

Raymond‌⁠ Oswald Duplain, head‍⁠​ of House Duplain,‌ had walked the‍​​ battlefield since his⁠​ youth.

As⁠ an imperial noble,‌‌⁠ he had fulfilled‌ his duty in​⁠‌ war and met‍‌ many people before​‍‌ becoming head of⁠‌⁠ House Duplain. Those​‌⁠ born with noble‍ blood and achievements‍ often had shining‍ eyes. But many‌ did not.

Some‍ smiled because their​⁠​ dreams came true⁠ and they succeeded,⁠‌⁠ others cried because⁠⁠​ their dreams faded‌‍‍ and they despaired.‌‍‍ That was the‍‍ world.

“…”‍‌

The‌ dissonance he felt​‍ watching Diella, gritting‍‍⁠ her teeth and​ using every trick​ to defeat Leigh,⁠ was because the‌⁠ youngest daughter he​⁠⁠ knew had changed‍⁠⁠ so much.

He‌⁠‍ remembered the girl‌⁠⁠ who, after countless​ frustrations, had hidden‌​‍ away in the‍⁠‍ pavilion, staring at‍ the wall with‌ vacant eyes. Experiencing‌‌ too much disappointment‌⁠ at too young‍‌‍ an age often​⁠‌ caused that. As‍‌​ time was often‍⁠⁠ the best remedy,​​ the Grand Duke​‌ of Duplain had⁠‍ tried to support​​ her as best‌‌ he could.

But​ that didn’t mean‍ his heart as‌ a father didn’t‍ ache. He had‍​ brought Diella into‍ the manor, hoping⁠ that someday the⁠ light would return​‌​ to those hollow‌⁠​ eyes.

He⁠‌ watched her wander,‌​ believing that eventually​‌‌ she would find​ her way back.‍‍‍ That was all‌⁠ a father could⁠​​ do for a child who had⁠ lost their way.‌

But‍ now the girl‍⁠ had resolve. In‍‌‌ a duel where‍ everyone expected her‌⁠ to lose, she‌ fought with every​ means she had⁠⁠‍ to win.

The‍⁠ tears she shed‌⁠ in frustration revealed​ a burning desire‌ to compete and​ be recognized. It‌‍‍ was unthinkable that⁠ she had once⁠ sat in a thorny room, staring​‌‍ at the wall​⁠ with empty eyes.​‍‌

Handling​ magic and learning⁠‌ a few ceremonial‍‍ spells were things⁠⁠‍ that could be‍‍ done with time‍‍​ as she matured.‌‍​ Born of the‌‌ Duplain line, it​ was only a matter of how⁠‌ fast or slow‍ she progressed—but eventually,​​‍ she would reach​​‌ a certain level.⁠‍

Therefore,​‍ Dereck’s early encouragement‌ of magical manifestation‍ might not be‌ considered a great‌​‍ contribution in the‌‍⁠ long run.

But⁠‌‍ he had shown⁠‍ Diella that she‍‍ could do it,⁠ and even in‌ a duel where​​⁠ everyone foresaw her​⁠‌ defeat, he gave⁠ her the chance‍‌ to possibly win.⁠‌‌ He constantly reminded​‍‍ her that if​⁠ she wanted something,‍ she had to‌​​ reach out and‌ take it. That’s​‌‌ when the Duke​‌‍ realized:

What‍‍‌ the boy Dereck‌‍‍ had taught Diella⁠‌ wasn’t just magic.‍⁠​ What Dereck had‌​ taught her was​‌ ambition. He had​ lit a fire​ in the girl’s​ heart.

In⁠​⁠ the dark slums,‌ amid the filth,‍ he had absorbed⁠‍​ the ambition of‌⁠‌ a boy who⁠‌ reached for the⁠⁠⁠ starry sky.

That​ ambition now burned‌‌ brightly in her‍⁠​ eyes—even in the‌ midst of battle—and⁠ was something that‌⁠ many never grasped,​ even through endless‍‍⁠ frustration.

The‌‌ value of learning‌‍‌ a few spells⁠⁠‍ was nothing compared​‍‌ to it. The‍‍⁠ Duke knew well‌ that this burning⁠‌ ambition, like molten⁠‍​ lava, was one​ of the most‍ important forces in‍‌⁠ shaping a person’s‌ path in life.⁠

“…”​‌‌

The​‍⁠ Duke watched calmly‌‌‍ as Miriela, furious‌‌ and gasping, descended‍ toward the platform.​‌ His gaze narrowed,‍ and shortly after,‍​ he furrowed his​ brow. Duke Duplain‌‍ closed his eyes‌​​ tightly. After a long silence, he‍​​ finally opened them​‍ and called the⁠​ head maid.

“Katarina.”‌

“Yes,​ Your Grace.”

“I​ must go to​‍​ the stage as‍ well.”

“Understood.”‌‌‍

With‌⁠ that, he descended‍‌‌ the stairs from‌​ the main hall,​‍ each step heavy‌​ with meaning.

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