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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Marriage Preparations (6)
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The guild commissioned by the Duke of Vandermir was known for its high success rate and for taking on jobs that were less than reputable.
At the same time, it was a guild comprised of individuals who wouldn't hesitate to attack a noble lady from a prestigious family, as long as the price was right.
The Duke's request was simple, given the high risks and the substantial reward he offered.
"Just injure her in any way. Enough to keep her incapacitated for a while."
Considering the target was a Mage, the guild dispatched five mercenaries. This was considered a rather generous allocation.
"How formidable could a Mage obsessed with research be? Probably frail and weak. And a woman, to boot, so frankly, she seemed like an easy target."
They deliberately made it seem as though Demian had summoned her, then took Aracilla alone in a carriage to a secluded spot.
This way, if she was injured on her way to meet her future husband, it would sow seeds of discord between them later on.
A total of five mercenaries, including those disguised as a coachman and servants, surrounded the carriage. This was to prevent Aracilla from escaping.
But no matter how long they waited, the carriage remained eerily silent, devoid of any movement or sound. There was no sign of anyone coming out, no voices to be heard.
One mercenary, pressing his ear to the door, spoke with a suspicious look.
"What? Is anyone really inside? Why no response?"
"Yeah, did she fall asleep or something?"
One mercenary clenched his fist and pounded on the carriage door as if to break it down. Still, there was no reaction from inside.
"Maybe she's frozen stiff with fear?"
"Pfft! Well, judging by her portrait, she looked like a fragile noble lady."
"Let's just open the door and drag her out. We're wearing defensive armor, so there's nothing to worry about."
They were wearing very expensive armor, said to block any magical attack. It was overkill for a delicate lady's magic, but even if they were attacked, they'd be fine.
The mercenary who had knocked on the door turned the handle. He intended to go in alone first and drag Aracilla out.
'Breaking just one leg and getting hundreds of millions of gold? That's a huge profit.'
Heh heh, the mercenary let out a vile laugh. For someone who had even taken on noble assassination requests, this job was truly nothing.
'Just finish this quickly and go for a drink...'
*Thwack.*
"Aargh!"
The mercenary, who had just taken a step into the carriage, was hit by something and sent flying, tumbling across the ground. His armor *cracked* and split, falling off in two pieces.
"Wh-What?!"
"What's wrong with you, suddenly!"
Caught off guard by the unexpected situation, the remaining mercenaries panicked and milled about. The mercenary who had been thrown lay unconscious, only groaning.
"What in the world is this...!"
Just then, the carriage door, half-closed from the impact, burst open. All eyes turned to the woman who leisurely emerged.
Aracilla, wearing the Magic Tower uniform with four star badges on her chest, surveyed the mercenaries and smiled faintly.
"Looks like you serve a fool. To send you to attack me wearing such cheap armor. Or perhaps they just underestimated me?"
In truth, the armor the mercenaries wore was indeed a formidable defense, but Aracilla's magic was so overwhelming it could shatter right through it, rendering it useless.
Aracilla swept her gaze over their pale, dumbfounded faces, a cold sneer on her lips.
She had already experienced countless similar situations. Most people habitually dismissed her as just a female Mage.
Her achievements as a Mage were overshadowed by her striking appearance and unusual actions, and were downplayed when reported to the outside world. Everyone was busy focusing on her outward appearance and gossiping, but no one truly cared about Aracilla Hugo, the Mage.
As a result, when people actually met her and experienced her skill firsthand, only then did they realize.
Why Aracilla Hugo was being considered as the next Magic Tower Master.
"I'll give you exactly one chance. Kneel before me right now and confess who ordered this. Then, I'll grant you special forgiveness."
With her arms crossed, she lifted her chin and commanded with dignity. The mercenaries flinched at the formidable aura emanating from her delicate body.
Their instincts screamed a danger warning more intensely than ever before. Beads of sweat formed on their foreheads.
But the sum the Duke of Vandermir had offered for the commission was too large to simply kneel now. And their pride was severely wounded.
"Everyone, attack!"
One mercenary drew a sword from his waist and shouted. Aracilla clicked her tongue, watching the men charge forward with shouts of "Aargh!"
Why were there so many people in the world who couldn't take a chance even when it was given to them?
"Oh, Lord, today I send these foolish lambs to your side."
She offered a prayer like a devout believer, then drew forth her magic, which shimmered with a purplish hue.
Normally, magic was white, but the more powerful a person's magic, the more unique its color, depending on their individual capacity. Aracilla's purple magic was currently the most unparalleled within the Magic Tower.
"Agh!"
"Ugh!"
Like leaves swept away by the wind, the mercenaries were sent flying or slammed into something, one by one. The magic swirling around her, as if protecting her, prevented them from even touching a single hair on her head.
Aracilla calmly stood her ground, eliminating her enemies. Then, when only one man remained, she stopped her attack and bound him with her magic like chains.
"Mph, mph!"
The man, who had failed to bite his tongue and commit suicide, trembled as the purplish magic coiled tightly around his neck.
Aracilla walked closer to him and spoke gently.
"You absolutely cannot die. I need to take you as living evidence, no matter what."
"…!"
The man gasped. Reflected in his eyes was Aracilla's coldly smiling face.
"Now, then, for the sake of staying alive and well, why don't we start by telling me who ordered this?"
* * *
Demian wasn't surprised that his visitor at dusk was Aracilla. They had an appointment today, and she had even notified him that she would be late.
What did surprise him was that Aracilla had dragged some man in and dumped him at his feet.
"Who is this man?"
"A pre-wedding gift sent by your family, Sir."
Aracilla, who had visited a few times and now sat comfortably on the sofa, fluttered the collar of her uniform. Looking closely, her attire seemed subtly disheveled.
Demian glanced back and forth between the gagged, bound man and Aracilla, who was sweeping her hair back, and roughly grasped the situation.
It seemed the Vandermir Ducal Family had stooped to sending something akin to an assassin after Aracilla.
They wouldn't dare kill a Hugo's daughter, so their intention must have been to threaten her or injure her to prevent the wedding from taking place.
"My apologies. Are you hurt anywhere?"
Demian, who had swept a hand over his eyes, apologized first.
She had agreed to marry him, only to suffer something like this. Aracilla's mind might have changed this time. To prevent that even slightly, he apologized first.
"No. But why are you apologizing, Sir? Was he perhaps sent by you?"
"Am I mad? I would wish for the Lady not to be harmed even more than the Lady herself."
Demian let out a deep sigh and looked at Aracilla with subdued eyes. Despite having gone through a perilous situation, she seemed perfectly fine, save for her slightly disheveled clothes.
There was no sign of exhaustion or fear, nor did her resolve for marriage seem to have wavered.
Demian called Isaac to take the man away, then sat opposite Aracilla.
"Just in case, I must ask, has your desire to marry me diminished even slightly because of this incident?"
"No, it's burning even brighter. The harder a flower is to pick, the more stubborn one becomes, you know."
Aracilla's lips curved into a playful smile, but her clear, sapphire-like eyes held a resolute gleam.
Demian, who had suddenly become the flower Aracilla needed to pluck, asked with a voice full of questions.
"Why do you want to marry me so much?"
"I told you. It's because I want to prevent my sister from marrying the Vandermir Young Master."
"You're this proactive for such a trivial reason?"
"'Trivial'? When my family is involved?"
Emotions Demian could never understand swelled on her small, fair face: love, devotion, and sacrifice for her family.
For him, who wished to kill his own family, these were emotions he could never comprehend.
"I don't want my sister to be unhappy by marrying the Vandermir Young Master."
"I agree that marrying my brother seems like a path to unhappiness, but you, Lady, seem even more certain than I am."
Oscar Vandermir was a notorious rake, famous in the ducal territory for having seduced every woman he could. Rumors might have even spread to the capital's social circles.
But even so, it seemed odd that Aracilla would be so obsessed with this marriage. Many noble couples maintained a superficial relationship, and many more had affairs.
Was it because she grew up in too harmonious a home that she couldn't tolerate even that much unhappiness, or...?
"It's almost as if marrying my brother would mean your sister's death."
Was there a deeply hidden motive?
Aracilla gazed at Demian with serene eyes. They were eyes whose depths were as unfathomable as the vast ocean.
"There's not no chance of that. The Vandermir Young Master gives off the impression he might plot a rebellion at some point in his life."
At her words, Demian let out a hollow laugh, almost a scoff.
"A man with such a faint heart and little ambition, like my brother?"
"You don't know anything. Those are precisely the types who plot sinister things behind the scenes. Isn't that why I'm trying to marry you, Sir?"
"…You won't regret it?"
This would be the last time he asked Aracilla her intentions. Even if it was selfish, Demian intended to push through with the marriage no matter what from now on.
To give Aracilla no room for hesitation.
"No. How could I regret it, when it's for my family? You can rest assured I won't back out midway."
Aracilla smiled faintly, accurately addressing Demian's concerns. Her clear pronunciation and resonant voice evoked a strange sense of trust and sincerity.
Even so, Demian didn't fully trust her.
"Understood. I will handle the aftermath of today's incident. There will not be a repeat of this."
"Good. The wedding isn't far off, so I hope we can stop having these troublesome incidents."
Saying so, Aracilla checked the time. Her arrival had been delayed due to the roundabout route, and it was already evening.
It seemed unlikely they would be able to discuss the prenuptial agreement clauses today.
"Let's discuss the contract clauses again tomorrow."
"Very well."
Demian followed her as she stood up, moving towards the door. He personally opened it for her. Instead of requesting a handshake, Aracilla gave a slight nod.
"I'll be going now."
As she was about to leave, Demian suddenly blocked her path. She looked up, bewildered, as his smooth face, like baked white clay, suddenly moved close.
'...What's with this sudden face attack?'
While Aracilla stood still, momentarily flustered, Demian, after thoroughly examining her with his eyes, stepped aside.
"I was just checking if you were truly unharmed."
"..."
"Please go carefully."
He bowed politely and courteously. Aracilla let out a sound like air escaping.
"Couldn't parts hidden by my clothes have been injured?"
"I cannot confirm that for you. If you find yourself injured after checking at home, please send me the medical expenses."
"No need."
In any case, she wasn't injured at all. Her clothes were only slightly disheveled due to the wind caused by the swirling magic.
Aracilla gave a brief nod and strode away.
After confirming she was gone, Demian called Isaac again. The aftermath needed to be handled as quickly and cleanly as possible.
