The Ring of Bondage - Chapter 2.11

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Jake returned at exactly the right time. Whatever else might be said, he was a capable and loyal confidant. He was merely weak against unexpected situations.

“We must leave at once. There’s a brief gap in the surveillance.”

“You’re still the only one who knows I’m alive, correct?”

“Yes, I kept your instructions without fail.”

Damian set foot on the surface with satisfaction. The tall rose vines brushed against his shoulders and cheeks, making a rustling sound. It was a very small sound, one that would be buried even by the wind.

“This way.”

Jake spoke while carefully checking their surroundings. Perfect. Damian smiled faintly as he looked at Jake’s back, then reached out his hand. It wasn’t difficult. If he held the jaw and head properly, then twisted like this.

Crack.

Jake’s neck made a sound even smaller than the rustling of rose vines. All he could leave behind before he died was a bewildered look directed at Damian. Now even that was gone.

The capable and loyal confidant of Terca, who was weak against unexpected situations, died like that without even a death cry. More quietly than a dying mouse.

“Sorry about this, Jake.”

Damian apologized indifferently and wiped his hands. There was no blood on them, but the sensation of the moment a person died still felt unpleasant. Rather than wiping something off, Damian rubbed his hands against his clothes a few times as if brushing away dust, then gave a faint laugh.

Leaving aside the head of the family, it hadn’t even been a month since he killed Tocelli’s eldest son, and now he had killed someone else with his own hands. It wasn’t particularly enjoyable, nor was it a dignified thing to do.

But life was such that one had to endure filthy things from time to time.

All the more so if there was something one wanted.

After hiding Jake’s corpse, Damian opened the iron door leading down to the basement again. It was time to wait for Serabella, who had become all alone in this world.

Once the head of the family’s corpse was found, she would become busy too, so he might not be able to see her for a while, but he could endure that much well enough.

Damian was rather lucky, after all.

Yes. He was truly a lucky man.

* * *

The first time Damian Terca met Serabella was in a ballroom. Looking at her pink hair and mysterious golden eyes, Damian realized at once that she was a member of the Tocelli family. Because those were the colors passed down only to the daughters of the Tocelli family.

—Is she a witch?

—Do not speak of those profane people in such a precious place.

It had only been a small mutter, but Damian’s father scolded him at once. He seemed to despise Tocelli considerably.

Of course, it wasn’t that Damian couldn’t understand. According to the story he had heard so often his ears ached, wicked blood flowed through Tocelli. Especially a girl born with pink hair and golden eyes was certainly a witch.

Terca, which had taken the lead in witch hunts for generations, naturally regarded Tocelli as something dreadful.

But there was no proper basis for Terca’s claim. Since they couldn’t simply dunk nobles in water or burn them at the stake as they pleased, the claim that witch’s blood flowed through Tocelli was smoothed over at the level of the two families simply being on bad terms. Though, when they hated each other as if they would kill one another, it was uncertain whether it could be described merely as being on bad terms.

In any case, Damian didn’t believe that rumor. To begin with, there was no way witches existed in the world. It was a foolish legend people from several hundred years ago might have believed.

Damian had thought so too… until he saw Serabella Tocelli.

Damian looked into Serabella’s golden eyes. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even though he was only looking at her, it felt as if the scent of roses hovered at the tip of his nose. It was sweet and dizzying. Could that be possible if she were not a witch? Could mere human eyes bewitch people so thoroughly?

Throughout the banquet, Damian couldn’t take his eyes off Serabella. He had no choice. How could a human bewitched by a witch through some wicked means resist her? Therefore, she had to be a witch.

If Serabella hadn’t used black magic, how could Damian, who had always been cold-headed, have fallen for her in an instant?

That was impossible.