AVELINE Haaa, I had barely stepped into the estate after returning from the palace, and yet, the duke had already summoned me. Now I sat before him, the weight of his stern gaze making me fidget slightly.

"How was your visit?" Father asked, leaning back in his chair.

"It went well," I replied, hoping my flushed cheeks wouldn't give away my thoughts about Xavier.

"Good. It's fortunate you didn't stay the night there. Returning was the right choice," he said, his tone teasing yet layered with a hint of paternal sternness.

"Father, what are you even talking about?" I flushed deeper, my voice rising in protest.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, raising an eyebrow. Then his expression sobered, and he shifted the topic. "Anyway, I called you here to discuss the monster that attacked earlier today."

"Ah, I see you've noticed," I said, straightening. "The monster did feel different. Its shape was similar to the ones in the North, but its aura—it wasn't the same. It felt...wrong."

"I noticed that too," Father replied, folding his arms. "And, for some reason, it was targeting you specifically. Isn't that right?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes, that's how it seemed. What do you think caused it?"

Father sighed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Monsters don't commonly appear in forests like these. This is the first time such an incident has occurred. I suspect it's tied to black magic."

"Black magic?" I repeated, startled. "But isn't black magic illegal?"

"It is," he confirmed. "But that doesn't stop some from using it. Ten years ago, there was a political scandal involving black magic, which led to a significant war among noble factions."

"I think I've heard about it. Wasn't the Brown family involved?" I asked, vaguely recalling bits of the tale from overheard conversations in the estate.

"You're not entirely wrong," Father said, his gaze sharpening. "But back then, the person who was caught and executed wasn't from the Brown family directly. It was James Valemont, the brother of Duchess Brown."

My eyes widened. "Why weren't the Browns punished if James Valemont was involved?"

"James claimed full responsibility for everything," Father said grimly. "He confessed to framing the Browns and swore they were innocent. There was no choice but to execute him, given his confession. It was either a desperate attempt to shield them or the truth—we could never fully determine."

"That's...complicated," I murmured. "So the Browns are still under suspicion?"

"Yes," Father said. "But we lack solid evidence linking them to today's incident. Also, Duke Brown himself was in the pavilion during the attack, so it's unlikely he's directly involved."

"What about Lady Margaret?" I ventured, recalling her peculiar behavior. "Other noble ladies mentioned she wasn't in the pavilion when the attack happened. When she returned, she looked unusually weak."

Father's eyes darkened. "Interesting. Black magic does indeed have a side effect—exhaustion, especially after a heavy expenditure of power. Margaret's behavior is certainly suspicious. I've had my doubts about her for a while now."

"Should we investigate her more closely?" I asked.

"Leave that to me," Father said firmly. "I'll look into it deeper, but keep an eye on her during your interactions. If she's involved, I'll ensure she faces the consequences."

"I see," I said, rising to my feet. "Alright then, Father. I'll be cautious."

"Good," he said. "And Aveline...don't let your guard down. This may only be the beginning."

As I left his office, I couldn't shake the feeling that dark forces were starting to stir again. The past may not be as buried as it seemed, and I would need to tread carefully moving forward.

***

MARGARET Why does my bedroom feel so far away at times like this? Every step feels heavier than the last. My head spins, the walls blur, and my legs tremble beneath me. My body... it feels like it's caving in, crumbling from the inside.

I'm so dizzy. So weak.

Then I hear it—a voice, sharp and cutting through the haze.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

I freeze. My breath catches in my throat as I slowly turn around. His eyes—cold, black, and unyielding—bore into me. Father.

"It was you, wasn't it? The one who used black magic to summon the monster."

His words hit me like a blade. My heart pounds, the weight of his accusation pressing down on me. No. No, he knows.

"It's not true," I whisper, barely able to form the words.

"Stop lying, Margaret." His tone grows sharper, his gaze harder. "Look at yourself. Look at how weak you are. Do you not realize what happens when you use black magic? It destroys you. It's eating away at your body."

My chest tightens as his words sink in. Destroying me? My body... That's why I feel like this. I forgot. How could I have forgotten?

"I'm sorry," I mutter, the words leaving me hollow.

"Why, Margaret?" His voice rises with frustration. "Why would you summon a monster? And at the imperial hunting grounds, of all places. Are you trying to ruin yourself? To dig your own grave?"

"No!" The word bursts out before I can stop it. Anger flares up, overpowering the fear in my chest. "I wasn't trying to ruin myself! I just wanted to teach that wench a lesson!"

"Who?" His frown deepens, his face shadowed by something I can't quite place.

"Aveline," I spit her name like venom. My hands clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms. "She stole the Crown Prince from me."

Father's expression twists, disgust flashing across his face. "The Crown Prince was never yours to begin with. Stop being delusional, Margaret."

"Shut up!" My voice cracks, and I hate the way it sounds, desperate and raw. "I will make him mine. Do you hear me? He will be mine!"

Silence falls between us, heavy and suffocating.

"There's no hope for you, is there?" His words cut deeper than I expected. "In the end, it's always me who has to clean up your mess."

I bite my lip, my throat burning, but I can't speak.

"Go and rest," he says finally, his voice cold and distant. "And stop using black magic. If you continue like this, Margaret, you'll destroy yourself entirely."

He turns away, leaving me standing there, trembling in my own shame and fury.