Chapter 204
Three days ago, Sebelia explained her plan to Dehart and Claude. She insisted that Marquis Wheddon would have no reason to want her. Having witnessed his serpentine nature multiple times, Dehart agreed.
“As far as I know, your only task was to keep Nelia occupied and implant a spying illusion on her.”
“I did exactly as instructed.”
“Bella, the me in front of you is always a fool and a mere criminal, but that doesn’t mean I’m too stupid to understand the situation.”
Dehart let out a short laugh, lowering his voice as he spoke. Stepping closer, he grasped Sebelia’s arm.
“You’ve been trembling ever since.”
“…”
Only then did Sebelia realize her condition. Her body, hidden beneath a thick cloak, was shaking slightly. She grasped Dehart’s hand holding her arm and exhaled softly.
She couldn’t recall when it started, but it was probably from the moment she got into the carriage.
“To be so out of it that you don’t even notice you’re trembling… what on earth happened?”
His heavy voice struck Sebelia’s eardrums. His golden eyes, dull with concern, studied her. It wasn’t an accusing look, but somehow it made her throat tighten.
“You promised me nothing would happen.”
“…”
“I didn’t expect you to come back unscathed.”
His dry voice echoed near her ear. Sebelia opened her eyes wide and shook her head. She should have said it was nothing—but why was speaking so difficult?
What’s wrong? My tongue feels frozen…
Her vision blurred and overall she felt strange. Sensing her senses dulling, she blinked slowly.
Oh, right. I made a clone.
Creating a perfect illusion required considerable power. She had already spent most of her strength creating and manipulating the spying illusion, and on top of that, she scraped together the remaining energy to make a clone. It was surprising she hadn’t fainted in the carriage.
“Bella, are you really going to say nothing?”
Dehart’s words barely registered. Her body felt too heavy to even stand. Unconsciously, she leaned on Dehart, whose expression grew darker.
At that moment, Claude, who had been silently observing, stepped forward.
“You’re pressing her too hard. No matter how poor family relations are, facing each other can’t have been easy. She needs a moment to rest.”
He withdrew Dehart’s hand and helped Sebelia settle into a soft armchair. Dehart bit his lip, seeing her worn-out face. Claude was right.
“Sorry. I rushed to push you too hard again.”
Feeling unworthy, Dehart’s face twisted with self-disgust. He was ashamed and couldn’t bear it.
“Rest well.”
Just as he turned to leave the sitting room, Sebelia suddenly jerked upright in the chair.
“Ugh.”
“Bella!”
Claude shouted in surprise. Sebelia seemed oblivious to his words, staring wide-eyed at empty space. A brief blue light flickered in her eyes. Then she bit her lip tightly, glaring as if at something unseen.
“Ugh…!”
Shortly after, with a scream-like cry, Sebelia collapsed. Limbs sprawled over the chair like a puppet with broken strings, the room fell into a dreadful silence.
Bang! A loud noise echoed through the corridor.
“Get a doctor at once!”
“There’s Watts—call Watts!”
Two men burst through the sitting room door and smashed their way to Watts’s room. Reading news about Luckwood, Watts was dragged from his room to examine Sebelia, now lying on her bed.
* * *
On the left side of Grace Square, at the heart of the prestigious 3rd district where central nobles resided, stood the dazzlingly beautiful Marquis Wheddon’s mansion.
The Wheddon estate boasted a long, illustrious history, and its grandeur matched its reputation; even the first prince marveled at it during a visit.
Walking through the opulent halls without much reaction was a man—the rightful heir to all of this, Nathan Wheddon.
Step by step.
Passing expensive masterpieces lining the corridor, Nathan reached the less-frequented outskirts and opened a dust-covered door without hesitation.
“Father.”
“You’ve come.”
In the pitch-black room, Silas stood silently, gazing downward.
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