What’s Wrong with You, Duke?!

Chapter 5

“What?” Noël felt faint. The duke’s eyes glinted coldly as he slowly got up from the bed. Her body shivered in response to the deadly aura emanating from him. He looked like how he had appeared when he first pointed his sword at her neck. Dreux picked up the dressing gown from the ground next to the bed and put it on. The eyes that looked back at her were terrifying when she met them. It felt like she had fallen from heaven to hell in an instant.

He walked over to her, fixed her with a threatening look, and said, “What have you done to me?”

“What?”

“Hurry up and answer me. What the hell have you done to me?” He watched her bite her lip. Clenching his jaw, his hand flew out. He moved like he was going to squeeze her neck using all the strength in his hands. He acted like he would choke her right now if he didn’t hear exactly what he wanted to hear.

She closed her eyes tightly, unable to look at his icy glare. Tears fell from her eyes again in shock at a reality that she couldn’t believe. But nothing happened—he didn’t ask her anything else, and he didn’t choke her. She opened her eyes a sliver, and she saw his face right in front of her. He was tilting his head, his waist bent, as he looked at her.

When their eyes met, he asked quietly, “Are you all right?” He sounded worried. His expression was no longer cold, but rather confused and concerned. He took hold of her hands, which had been clutching the sheets. She jolted and backed away.

The duke quickly let go of her in confusion and retreated. But he sounded very worried as he asked, “Are you hurt?”

“M-my lord?” she asked.

“What do you mean ‘my lord’? Why do you call me that when it’s just us two? Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re angry?” His face wrinkled in concern as he looked down at her.

Noël burst out into tears. She bit her lip, trying to stop the flood from her sobbing, but she couldn’t. When the duke reached out to hold her, she trembled, and he balled his hands into fists, stepping back. He paced a few steps back and forth, unsure of what to do.

“Ru!” Noël called his name after sobbing for a good while. The duke immediately pulled her into his arms, as if he’d been waiting for her to ask for him.

“Why are you crying?” The duke kept rubbing his hands all over her body as she struggled to speak coherently through her sobs. “Please don’t cry. My heart feels like it’s ripping in two.”

His soothing voice felt like an even sharper sword cutting into Noël’s heart. She realized that it was only for a moment, but the magic had been undone. The thing she dreaded the most had just happened. Noël threw her arms around his neck and sobbed for a long time.

* * *

Noël stared at the rugged mountains from the castle wall and asked Mary, who had come up with her, “So if you go that way, you can go to the witch forest, right?”

“Yes, I heard it takes a day if you follow the mountain path on horseback. They say it’s a dark and damp place,” the maid answered respectfully but she looked taken aback as to why Noël was asking this.

Noël laughed it off, saying, “There was a witch in the book I was reading yesterday. Do you think they really exist?”

“There’s no way, Your Grace,” said Mary. “Things like magic and spells are made up like children’s stories.”

Noël wanted to refute that, but she pretended to agree and just nodded. Her mother was a nomad who wandered the town, but she had great skills in fortune telling and making charms. Because of her beauty, she was unlucky and had caught the eye of the count, resulting in her essentially being imprisoned and forced to become his mistress. She had given birth to Noël but couldn’t withstand the abuse the countess heaped onto her and died.

Her mother had held the young Noël close and told her stories of magic and witches. Noël was too young then, so she remembered almost nothing of what her mother said to her, but she couldn’t forget her sad, serious face. Nor could she forget her mother’s last words.

From the moment she heard her mother tell her to look the god of death in the eyes, she instinctively knew she wouldn’t die quietly. Her wish had become even more detailed and tenacious, but she really had no idea it would come true like this. Even if she had never experienced magic or spells—thanks to her mother—she had no qualms in believing in them, which was a good thing. How confusing would it have been if she didn’t believe in magic when she saw it every day?

“Still, there are all sorts of people in the world, so couldn’t there be at least one witch?” Noël blurted out, unable to hold her question any longer.

Mary nodded respectfully in response. “Of course, Your Grace. But even if there aren’t any witches or wizards who wield magic, I think it still exists.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve completely changed His Grace! We servants call that magic!”

Mary had hit the nail on the head even though she had no idea what she was talking about. Noël was shocked but she pretended she wasn’t as she thought about the duke last night. The way he looked with pure rage toward her was terrifying. It was even more terrifying than when she first saw him as the god of death. The ridiculous betrayal was more terrible than the fear. There was no sign of warmth in his gaze, and the duke saw her as an enemy. He only showed loathing toward her.

But then Ru, who loved her, had come back. She couldn’t explain how relieved she had been. It was like she’d had a waking nightmare. Noël had found peace again in his arms and had cried herself to sleep. And when she opened her eyes in the morning, the duke had been there gently stroking her hair and watching her. He was still in the same position as if he hadn’t left her side all night. When she thought about that warm hand touching her cheek, her emotions got the better of her and her eyes welled up with tears.

“Y-your Grace! What’s wrong?” Mary asked. “Are you hurt? Are you sick?”

“No, I’m not hurt or sick. I’m just happy. I’m just so happy right now.” Noël gave a vague answer and wiped away her tears. Mary fumbled to give her a handkerchief and clucked in concern.

At first, the servants in the duke’s castle had looked down on Noël for her common roots, but they changed their tune when their master was so caring toward her. As time passed, they praised her endlessly for changing the duke from what he was before, to what he was now. They even liked her for being so down-to-earth with them.

But when the magic was gone, she would probably lose the duke and all the others too. The horrible life she had lived before she met the duke would become her reality again. It would be as if she had woken up from a dream. Worst case scenario, she might go back to when they first met, and die by the duke’s sword.

Noël gazed out at the witch forest and gathered herself. There was nothing she could do if she was going to be this weak. She had yet to find out anything about the spell that the duke was under. Spells that had come undone once could come undone again at any time. She had to make a decision: Should she run away when the magic broke? Or should she do in-depth research about the magic itself? Either way, she could take a moment to be sad, right? She couldn’t know what his “true self” was, and she couldn’t know his “true love” either. Noël’s sorrow about that was greater than her desperation to live.

* * *

“My skylark, are you coming back from a walk? Why didn’t you ask to go together?” Dreux called out.

“Because you’re busy, my lord, I will gladly ask for you to accompany me when you’re less so,” Noël replied.

She had run into the duke at the castle entrance. The moment he saw her, he ran toward her. He pulled her down from the horse by the hand and brought her close. Noël didn’t realize she was keeping an eye on his reaction, but his face was simply full of joy. He held her close and brushed her cheeks with one hand, over and over, like he had missed her greatly. Then the duke looked into her eyes and frowned.

“Were you crying?”

“Of course not. That’s impossible,” she said, quickly denying it and turning her head away, his hands tightened from their loose cupping of her face. “My lord?” She looked up in bewilderment, to see that he was gazing directly into her eyes.

“Why did you cry?”

She was immediately reminded of the duke from the night before when she heard his low voice. She flinched and was about to step out of his arms, but he let go of her and gently asked, “Are you truly not feeling well? There’s what happened yesterday too...”

His face was full of concern and worry, but Noël’s heart pounded in fear of him. There was no way to know when the magic would break and he would have his sword at her throat again. She was more afraid of the hatred that she saw in his face than the possibility that he could hurt her. She moved to step back but faltered when the duke kneeled.

“My lord!” exclaimed Noël as he bowed his head, one knee in the dirt. The maids, including Mary and the knights, all followed suit and kneeled. Noël was the only one standing while everyone else was on the ground.

“Come here.” The duke raised his head and offered a hand to her. Noël hesitated but stepped forward to take it. The duke kissed her palm and said, “I do not know why you cried, my skylark. I wish you would only sing happily in my arms, not cry. I will do better, I will make you happy. I love you. I love you, Noël.”

His desperate eyes overflowed with deep affection, and his gentle, low, but truthful voice tugged at her heartstrings. Noël was speechless—she’d heard him profess his love several times, but this time, it felt like a blessing upon her. Her passionate emotions felt like they would fill her up and spill out of her. The love she had for him shouted and fluttered madly. It was true, she loved him.

She realized bitterly that in the end, she couldn’t run away. She had casually looked for an opening, thinking she could delay her escape for a day or two, when in reality it was an excuse. She had nowhere to go—she couldn’t just leave him behind. Whether this was magic or an illusion, she loved this man and there was no way she wouldn’t miss him. She couldn’t live without him, she would rather die instead. Without even realizing it, she had fallen deeply in love with him.

Her emotions bubbled up and spilled out of her mouth. “I do, too, my lord.”

“Noël. Please call me Ru.”

“Ru, I love you.” Noël turned over his hand in hers, and bowed at the waist, kissing his hand. To her, it was a unique mark with a meaning he wasn’t aware of. It meant she herself would love him eternally.

The duke was gazing up at her when he jumped to his feet and picked her up. He then strode toward the castle. The servants—who had witnessed the lovey-dovey scene between the husband and wife—were left behind, still kneeling in their spots. They looked at each other in bewilderment, red faced for no reason as they saw the duke lean his head toward his wife, kissing her forehead and cheeks as he walked away.

“What are you all doing? Have you never seen that happen? Let’s hurry and get back to what we were doing!” The quick-witted Mary clapped twice, clearing the air as she got up and trotted after her mistress. The others also brushed off their knees and went on their own ways.

* * *

“If you look at magic in a general sense, it’s like making bread. You use a ‘price’ as flour, the main ingredient, knead with a ‘spell,’ place it into a tin called a ‘sigil,’ and bake to make ‘magic.’”

Noël thought deeply for a moment—the book about magic that she’d gone through great lengths to acquire open in front of her. The explanations were simple as the title was Magic Easy Enough for Kids, but she had no idea what it meant. What did they mean by price? There was nothing she could pay as a price except for her body and her life.

No matter how closely she inspected her body, there was nothing different about it. She was alive, so it couldn’t have been her life. So then… Maybe it was her youth? She got scared for a second and pulled the mirror toward her, but like yesterday, her eyes were the same deep green, her nose was still small, and her lips were still plump. There was no change. She quickly turned to the next page.

“The more complicated the sigil, the higher the price to be paid. A price is a necessary component in bringing forth magic and must be of a type that is appropriate to the wish.”

Appropriate to the wish? She could understand that magic for killing or reviving someone required a life, which was an appropriate price. But what about love, or marriage? What was the appropriate price for such a wish?

She had no idea. The magic books she’d struggled to find were filled with these words that made no sense to her. Noël flipped through the pages and started to look for the type of sigil. The sigil she could remember was a large circle, with small circles intersecting it.

“I should draw it out myself.” Noël closed the magic book and stood up. Now that she was about to draw the symbol, she realized she couldn’t really remember what it looked like in full when it appeared because she had been on her knees. She quickly rang the bell and called for Mary.

“I need a plot of earth to plant seeds! I suddenly want to grow flowers!” Noël shouted, faking a bright and excited demeanor. Mary ran to her with her eyes wide. Noël hurried out of the room before she even heard the maid’s response.

If she started to draw out a sigil on the bare ground, she knew people would wrongly assume that she was a witch. It was a time when people didn’t believe in magic, but they did reject anything ominous. In some areas, they burned people rumored to be witches at the stake for cursing others. Noël would pretend to scatter seeds but in actuality she would be drawing the sigil out in its actual size on a large plot of land. After she knew for sure, she’d make it so the seeds would rot without ever sprouting.