The Fake Madam Disappeared

Chapter 36 

Daphne asking Edmund the question was an impulsive choice. Something she’d asked herself countless times in her mind finally made it out of her mouth.

She blinked slowly and took a deep breath. With difficulty, she pushed Edmund away and wriggled free from beneath him.

The difference in their physiques was impossible to ignore, and sweat trickled off Daphne’s body as though she were in a downpour. It was fortunate that only part of her body had been pinned; if she'd been trapped fully beneath him, she might not have been able to escape without someone's help.

Staring at Edmund, who lay unconscious without a single twitch, Daphne’s gaze accidentally shifted to her hand.

“Blood.”

Seeing the blood on her hand, she quickly looked back at Edmund. In a rush, she flipped his body over and frantically felt along his torso. The moment her hand touched his shoulder, it came away wet. When she hastily pulled down his shirt, blood gushed from an open wound.

“This is….”

“Daphne!”

It was the wound he had gotten when he shielded her from the flying sword.

* * *

“Doesn’t it feel a little eerie today?”

“Why are you saying that? It’s always like this around this time of year.”

“Ah, right. It's that time already.”

The maids found nothing strange about the heavy air hanging in the mansion. It was normal for the estate to feel colder around this time.

“…So it’s really begun.”

Hearing the maids’ conversation, Damian paused mid-step, muttering to himself.

“Yes, time flies, doesn’t it?” 

Vent, who had been walking behind Damian, added. Last night, Edmund’s time had begun again.

“I hope it’s shorter this time. Last year, it lasted a month and two days, didn’t it?”

Despite the commotion within the mansion, Damian’s daily routine continued unchanged. The only difference was that his heir training would be temporarily suspended until Edmund stabilized, giving him unexpected free time.

Since his schedule was mostly filled with heir lessons, Damian now found himself with a lot of empty time. He filled that time with various activities. Today, it was sparring training.

“You did well, Young Master.”

Because Vent was limping from muscle pain, today’s sparring partner was Chris.

“Good work.”

Damian exhaled deeply, catching his breath.

“That last move… was it something His Grace taught you?”

Chris mentioned the final move when Damian had almost dropped his sword while executing. It was one of Edmund’s techniques – simple and brief in motion, but it required such strength and focus that very few could replicate it.

“I just picked it up by watching. Father hasn’t taught me anything yet.”

So it was natural for Chris to be shocked by Damian’s words. Rubbing his sore wrist from the encounter, Chris looked at Damian with new respect.

“Chris.” Damian glanced down at his sword. “Is there a way to awaken my aura faster?”

Aura awakening refers to the phenomenon where swordsmen developed an aura, experiencing fever and illness for a few days. It could last as little as a week or as long as a month.

The stronger the power, the longer the sickness. Aura awakening typically happened around the age of twenty, but Edmund had achieved it at just ten years old, recovering in about half a day. Because of this, many assumed that Edmund’s aura was insignificant and not worth showing. But that was far from the truth.

Edmund was someone who broke the rules and reinvented them – an outlaw by nature.

“You’re certainly not late for it, Young Master.”

“I know.” As Damian sheathed his sword, he murmured softly.

“I just want to awaken my aura as soon as possible… and make the heir’s seat solely mine.”

Chris, who knew how much Damian had endured before revealing his genius in every aspect, felt his heart ache for him.

“I’ll make sure to find out!”

After Chris left the training ground, Damian continued training alone.

“Young Master!”@@novelbin@@

Vent came running, out of breath. Damian tensed up, wondering if something had happened to Edmund.

“What is it?”

“The enchanted gemstone has arrived!”

“…I see.”

“It came faster than I expected! I mentioned your name, Young Master, but I didn’t think it would be delivered this quickly.”

Vent opened the box he had been carrying. The gemstone had been crafted into an unfamiliar accessory.

“What is this for?”

“It’s a piece of jewelry I designed myself. It’s meant to be wrapped around a sword.”

“A sword?”

Damian lifted the sword he was holding. The rough, simple blade didn’t suit the gemstone, which sparkled in shifting hues depending on the angle of the light.

“Not that one.”

“What sword, then?”

“The one you received recently. The one that seems like a gift from Madam.”

— — — 

After finishing his sparring session and returning to his room, Damian absentmindedly reached out for the sword Vent mentioned earlier.

Vent’s intuition had been right. The sword, predominantly black with grey accents, contrasted beautifully with the shimmering, multicolored gemstone. Beyond its appearance, the gemstone, when infused with aura, allowed the user to draw on its stored power while wielding the sword. That was why Damian had it crafted – no other reason.

Suddenly, Damian shot to his feet.

‘I’ll ask.’

Having made up his mind to get a clear answer, Damian headed straight for Daphne’s room.

“Mother.”

He knocked on the door and called her name.

“…Damian?”

“I’m coming in.”

When Damian opened the door, he found Daphne awkwardly leaning against the bed. As he held out the sword, Daphne’s eyes trembled slightly.

“This sword – did you gift it to me Mother?”

He stepped closer. Daphne stared at the sword he had extended to her. Without a word, she stood up from the bed and faced Damian.

“Please, answer me.”

Damian’s voice trembled. Whether it was because the truth was about to be revealed, or because he already suspected what that truth might be, he wasn’t sure.

“Mother.”

“Damian. I….”

Noticing that Daphne was about to make excuses, Damian let out a hollow laugh. He grabbed Daphne’s wrist firmly.

“Wait…! Damian!”

With his overwhelming strength, Daphne had no choice but to be dragged along without putting up any real resistance. Her first instinct was to resist, but realizing it was futile, she desperately tried to keep pace with Damian’s quick steps. But it was impossible, especially with her still-recovering body.

“Ah…!”

She nearly stumbled several times, barely holding on, until her body swayed dangerously. Fortunately, Damian’s firm grip kept her from falling.

He turned to face her, locking eyes with her briefly, then resumed walking. Though his pace was noticeably slower than before, Daphne didn’t realize it, still struggling to keep up.

After passing through corridors, climbing stairs, and walking more corridors, they finally arrived at Damian’s room. 

When Damian let go, Daphne clutched her aching wrist, breathing heavily. She had no idea why he had bothered to bring her there.

Damian returned and thrust a box toward her, without giving her a chance to talk. 

“Are all the items in this box from you, Mother?”

When Daphne saw what was inside, her eyes darted in all corners,avoiding his eyes. Damian didn’t miss her reaction.

He neither exploded in anger nor spat out harsh words. He simply laughed at his own ignorance, realizing only now what he had been blind to. ‘What had he even been expecting?’

“Damian, please listen to me.”

“Have you enjoyed it?”

Damian stared down at the box. It was filled with everyday items he frequently used. Among them were things he’d often used in Daphne’s presence.

“Did it please you to watch me, not knowing anything?”

His stomach churned. Damian shut his eyes tightly, then opened them.

“Are you satisfied now?”

‘Surely, it was enough.’

He dropped the box. Its contents spilled out, landing between them, piling up at their feet.

“They were yours to begin with. Take them.” He brushed past Daphne. “Or throw them away.”

The moment he spoke, Damian locked eyes with her vacant gaze.

Suddenly, he felt pathetic. Daphne was nothing more than a hypocrite and a deceiver. It angered him that he had once waited eagerly, even keeping a portrait of her in his locket.

As Damian brushed past her, Daphne’s head shot up.

“Damian, that’s not true.”

In a desperate attempt, she grabbed the hem of his sleeve. Her grip was weak, something he could have easily brushed off. But Damian felt as though he were stuck, unable to move, as if sinking into a swamp. So did the sleeve she held.

‘Ah…. Once again, he found himself ensnared by this woman – by his mother.’

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then what?” Sighing, Damian turned back to face her.

“Are you telling me you sent it purely out of goodwill, to congratulate me, Mother?”

“I….”

Daphne’s pupils quivered endlessly. The tremor was so strong, even Damian could feel it, and it disgusted him. If she thought she could sway him with such a display of weakness she had failed. He was no longer the naive child he once was.

“How ridiculous.”

It was laughable. ‘How long did she plan to act like a victim, pretending to be weak?’

Thwack! He yanked his sleeve from her grasp with a deliberate force, causing Daphne’s frail shoulders to flinch.

“I hope we won’t have to cross paths in this house again.” Damian’s voice was low and carefully measured. He dusted off the sleeve she had touched. “And stop laying your hands on me without permission.”

Daphne noticed that Damian was about to leave the room, and in her panic, she quickly reached out her hand.  But just before she could touch him, she remembered what he had said and froze. Daphne hurriedly spoke, her words spilling out.

“Damian, I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I swear. I truly, truly…”

“Then what is it?”

T/N: I thought Damian would have another approach in asking Daphne, but alas, he’s Edmund’s son 🤦

E/N: Bruh really? Why is he getting so agitated?? He's definitely Edmund's son…