Previously
Aracella and Damian meet the Duchess, who unsuccessfully tries to force Aracella to move into the duchy and quit the Magic Tower. Damian defends Aracella's career and independence, leading the Duke to plot a physical accident to stop the wedding.
The guild Duke Vandermeer sought out was widely renowned for its high success rate and illicit dealings.
Its members would not hesitate to attack highborn ladies of distinguished houses, so long as the coin was right.
Because the task carried tremendous risk, the Duke paid a handsome sum and asked for one simple thing:
Considering the target was a mage, the guild dispatched five mercenaries.
The number was considered more than enough for the job.
‘How strong could a research-obsessed mage possibly be? She’ll be feeble and frail, surely. And since she’s a woman, it’s even easier.’
Or so they thought at first.
They orchestrated the trap so it appeared Damian had summoned Aracella, placed her alone in a carriage, and escorted her to an isolated clearing.
Their goal was to sow discord between Aracella and Damian later on, under the pretense that she had been attacked on her way to meet her betrothed.
Disguised as a coachman and guards, the five mercenaries surrounded the carriage to bar any escape.
Yet no matter how long they waited, the lady inside remained utterly still.
No one stepped out, and not a sound could be heard.
One of the mercenaries approached the carriage door with a suspicious frown and pressed his ear to the wood.
One of them raised his fist and began pounding violently on the carriage door as if to smash it in, but no answer came from within.
One of them scoffed with a sneer.
They were outfitted in expensive armor capable of warding off magical strikes.
Though such gear was complete overkill for dealing with a defenseless lady, it guaranteed they would remain unscathed even if attacked.
The mercenary who had knocked grabbed the door handle and twisted it. He intended to step inside first and drag Aracella out with his own hands.
He chuckled with supreme confidence.
To a mercenary who had carried out assassinations on nobles before, this job seemed like child's play.
‘Let’s wrap this up quick and go grab a drink…’
Suddenly—
Boom!
The mercenary, having barely set a single foot into the carriage, flew backward as if struck by a battering ram and tumbled violently across the ground. His armor split clean down the middle, clattering to his side.
The other mercenaries froze in sheer shock and panic. The fallen mercenary could not even lift himself from the dirt, managing only a feeble groan.
Just then, the carriage door, partially shut by the blast, swung open, and every gaze snapped toward the figure stepping out in a slow, poised stride.
Aracella, dressed in her Magic Tower robes bearing the four-star insignia on her chest, regarded the mercenaries with a tranquil smile.
In truth, the armor the mercenaries wore was exceptionally sturdy, but Aracella’s mana was so overwhelming that it shattered the plating effortlessly.
As she took in their stunned, bloodless faces, a mocking smirk touched her lips.
She had been through situations like this countless times before. Most people had a habit of belittling her simply because she was a mage and a woman.
Her great achievements in the magical realm were constantly overshadowed by her striking beauty and unique demeanor; people fixation on her outward appearance blinded them to her true might.
Only when they faced her directly and experienced that power firsthand did they finally understand why Aracella Hugo was considered a prospective successor to the Magic Tower.
Crossing her arms and lifting her chin, she spoke with cool confidence.
Confronted by the imposing aura and raw authority radiating from her slender frame, the mercenaries involuntarily stepped back.
Their instincts blared frantic alarms, and cold sweat beaded on their foreheads.
Yet kneeling was no easy concession, especially after the vast sum Duke Vandermeer had paid them for this mission. Their professional pride was on the line as well.
One of the mercenaries unsheathed his blade and roared,
The men charged at her with a battle cry, but Aracella merely released a soft sigh, shaking her head.
She silently wondered why so many people were utterly incapable of seizing the chances handed to them.
Aracella uttered the words like a solemn prayer, conjuring her mana, which flared in a brilliant violet glow.
Normally, mana was white, but as it grew in purity and strength, it took on a distinctive color reflecting the mage’s innate traits. Aracella’s violet radiance was the most unique signature in the entire Magic Tower.
The mercenaries were sent hurtling through the air or swept aside like autumn leaves caught in a gale.
The magical barrier encircling her shielded her completely; not one of them could come close enough to graze her.
Standing poised as she dictated the battlefield, Aracella dropped her opponents one by one without breaking a sweat. When only a single man remained, she halted her barrage and bound him in chains forged of pure mana.
The man tried to bite his tongue to end his own life, but failed. The violet energy wound tight around his throat, leaving him trembling in terror.
Aracella stepped toward him at an unhurried pace and spoke gently.
Her frigid tone rang in his ears, and he caught the reflection of her mocking smile in the depths of her eyes.
Later that evening, Damian was hardly surprised by Aracella’s visit. He had already scheduled an appointment with her, and she had sent word in advance that she might be delayed.
What took Damian aback was not Aracella herself, but the man she was hauling behind her and casually dumped at his feet.
Damian asked, his voice puzzled even as his face remained unreadable.
Aracella made herself comfortable on the sofa as if she were in her own home before answering,
Her Magic Tower uniform looked slightly frayed, and when Damian looked closer, he noticed her attire was unusually disarranged.
Glancing between the bound and gagged captive and Aracella brushing back her hair, he instantly pieced together the scene.
It seemed Duke Vandermeer had dispatched assassins or mercenaries to harm Aracella. Naturally, they wouldn’t dare murder a daughter of House Hugo, but they likely aimed to terrorize or incapacitate her to thwart her marriage to Damian.
Damian wiped a hand over his face.
Knowing this incident could make Aracella reconsider the marriage, he offered an immediate apology to mitigate the fallout.
Damian gave a dry chuckle.
He sighed deeply, looking at her with steady eyes. Though she had just faced a dangerous ambush, she appeared utterly unscathed, save for a slight dishevelment in her clothes.
There were no signs of fatigue or fear, nor did it seem she had changed her mind regarding their marriage.
Damian instructed his attendant, Isaac, to take the man away, then took a seat opposite Aracella.
Her lips curved in a playful smirk, yet her eyes, gleaming like blue sapphires, held an unyielding resolve.
Damian, having suddenly become the flower Aracella had to pluck, asked dubiously,
With an unreadable emotion crossing her radiant face, Aracella spoke coolly.
Affection, devotion, and a willingness to sacrifice for her kin shone clearly on her features.
These were feelings Damian, burdened by bitter resentment toward his family and a desire to purge them, could never understand.
Oscar Vandermeer was notorious for being a reckless rake, never sparing a woman in the duchy from his advances. Even within high society in the capital, his reputation was thoroughly tarnished.
Even so, Damian wondered if it was worth Aracella going to such extreme lengths over this union. Many highborn couples maintained marriages of convenience, each living their own separate lives.
‘Didn’t she once say she felt as though her sister would die if she married my brother?’
There was undoubtedly a deeper secret she was keeping hidden.
Aracella met Damian’s gaze with calm, unfathomable blue eyes that revealed nothing of her inner thoughts.
Damian chuckled derisively at her words.
“You know nothing. People like him often plot in secret behind closed doors. That is why I wish to marry you, my lord. Is that enough for you?”
This would be the last time he asked for her opinion.
Selfish as it might be, Damian had resolved to see this marriage through at all costs.
And he intended to do so without leaving Aracella any room for second thoughts.
Aracella smiled, hitting right at the core of Damian’s anxieties.
Her clear, ringing voice stirred a strange sense of reassurance in him.
Even so, that did not mean Damian trusted her completely.
She spoke while glancing at the clock. Evening had already settled in, thanks to the detour she had been forced to make.
Evidently, reviewing the contract terms would have to wait.
Damian escorted her toward the door and opened it for her himself.
Instead of offering a handshake, Aracella gave a slight nod.
Just as she was about to step outside, Damian stepped directly into her path, catching her off guard.
She looked up to find his smooth face, pale as porcelain, leaning in close all of a sudden.
‘…What’s with this sudden face attack?’
While Aracella stood frozen in bafflement, Damian carefully examined her from head to toe with his eyes before stepping aside to clear the way.
He bowed to her with profound courtesy.
Aracella let out a breathy chuckle.
She hadn't suffered a scratch. Her slightly disheveled attire was merely due to the violent gust of mana she had unleashed.
Offering a parting glance, Aracella departed with confident strides.
Once he was certain she was gone, Damian summoned Isaac once more.
He needed to deal with this matter swiftly and thoroughly, as was proper.