A few minutes later...
While I was still turning things over in my head, a twinge of guilt flickered in my chest.
Using Alice’s trust to deceive her—it wasn’t something I enjoyed doing. But it was for her own good.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
Still... it was complicated.
My thoughts eventually drifted to Freedman.
That man.
Everything about him screamed suspicious.
Every time he was near Alice, her "destruction progress" increased—subtly, but unmistakably.
Was he... a demon in disguise?
A parasite, maybe?
’No, that’s ridiculous,’ I tried to dismiss the thought, rubbing my temple.
’It’s probably just coincidence.’
But as soon as I tried to drop the theory... I stopped cold.
No—this wasn’t entirely baseless.
If Freedman was a parasite-type demon, then it would explain everything.
Why Alice’s destruction progress spiked.
The more I thought about it, the more it clicked together like pieces of a cruel puzzle.
And beyond that—
’The Draken ducal family... they’re the demons’ archenemies.’
For generations, the Drakens had hunted demons and purged them from the northern lands. Their bloodline was blessed, feared, hated.
It would make perfect sense for demons to target them. Especially someone like Alice—heir to their power, and the strongest shield against the darkness.
If I were a demon seeking vengeance, she’d be my first target too.
My jaw clenched as the final piece of logic slid into place.
It also explained why I’d never heard of "Freedman" before, even though I knew most of the story’s key figures.
Because, just like me—
He was someone out of place.
Someone who didn’t belong here.
’Or worse,’ I thought, the chill running down my spine.
’He could be wearing someone else’s face.’
For the first time, I felt a genuine sense of dread tighten around my chest.
If my theory was right...
then Alice wasn’t just walking toward her own destruction—
She was being led there.
"Julies? Are you listening?"
"...Ah! My apologies, my lady. I was lost in thought. I’ll fix it right away."
Just as I was about to move, trying to make up for my brief lapse in focus—
Knock, knock.
A sharp, polite knock echoed through the room.
"Come in," Alice said, her tone composed as always.
The door opened to reveal a fellow maid—a woman I only knew by face, not by name. She bowed deeply, her posture a perfect example of practiced restraint.
"Lady Alice, the Duke requests your presence."
Alice arched an eyebrow, a faint hint of curiosity flickering across her features. "Hm? What does Father want this time?"
Considering she had already completed her duties as a knight and was recovering from her recent ordeal, it seemed unnecessary for the Duke to summon her now. From my perspective, it could only mean one thing—something serious had come up.
---
The maid hesitated briefly, then continued in a respectful tone, "He said it concerns new information... something that surfaced from the testimonies of the guerrilla members rescued yesterday."
"A problem?" Alice’s voice sharpened slightly.
"Yes, my lady," the maid replied. "It appears to be connected to you."
Alice tilted her head, clearly puzzled, then reached for the sword hanging on the wall. Her fingers brushed the hilt with familiarity, as if steadying herself for whatever news awaited.
The maid took a quiet breath before finishing, "The Duke says one of the witnesses mentioned a name... Velra. The vampire."
The moment that name left her lips, the air in the room changed.
Alice froze mid-motion, her expression turning deathly still. Then, like a blade drawn from its sheath, her aura flared—rage, cold and focused, radiating off her like frost in winter air.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even the flickering candlelight seemed to recoil.
Velra. The one who had scarred her pride and body.
"...I see," Alice murmured at last, her voice low and steady—but beneath that calm tone, I could feel the storm rising.
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as her voice fell.
Velra.
That name alone was enough to ignite a thousand memories she wished she could erase—the flash of silver, the taste of blood, the humiliation of helplessness. The vampire’s smirk lingered in her mind like a wound that refused to heal.
Her fingers tightened on the sword hilt until her knuckles turned white.
"Where is she?" she asked at last, her tone like a blade’s edge.
The maid faltered. "I–I don’t know, my lady. The Duke said he will tell you rest of detailes in person.
The silence hung for a few seconds after that, thick and heavy.
Alice’s eyes lowered slightly — not in hesitation, but in concentration. The kind of stillness that came before a storm.
Then she exhaled slowly, her tone calm but unnervingly sharp.
"Very well. I’ll speak with Father myself."
The maid bowed quickly, sensing the sudden chill in the air. "Y–yes, my lady."
She left in a hurry, her shoes tapping softly against the marble floor.
As the door clicked shut, the atmosphere remained dense — like the air just before snowfall.
"...Velra," Alice whispered again, the name lingering on her tongue like poison.
It wasn’t just anger. It was humiliation that burned beneath the surface — that same suffocating memory of defeat, of being toyed with like prey.
Julies watched her silently, his usual easy composure fading into concern. He’d seen that look before. It was the same one she wore after the Faceless Imposter incident — quiet, sharp, and dangerous.
"Are you planning to face her again, my lady?"
"Of course," Alice replied without looking at him. Her tone was soft, almost casual, but every word carried lethal conviction. "She should’ve died that day. The fact that she’s still breathing... is an insult I can’t overlook."
Julies hesitated. "If the Duke summoned you, it might not be for immediate combat. Perhaps he wants you to wait—"
"Wait?" Alice’s lips curved into a bitter smile as she turned to him. "Do you think Velra will wait? That monster never sleeps quietly. If she’s alive, it means she’s planning something again."
Her reflection in the mirror beside her caught her expression — calm, but her eyes glowed faintly crimson at the edges.
Julies swallowed. "You’re still recovering. Facing Velra in your state—"
"I know my condition," Alice interrupted, her voice quiet but cutting. "And I also know my limits. I won’t act recklessly."
But Julies didn’t miss it — the way her hand trembled slightly as she adjusted the scabbard at her hip, or the faint line of tension in her jaw.
She was angry — far more than she was willing to admit.
---
Julies’s POV
Soon enough, we stood inside the Duke’s chamber.
It wasn’t just a room—it was more like a war council chamber disguised as an office. Heavy drapes muffled the sounds from outside, and the smell of old parchment mixed with cold iron lingered faintly in the air. The atmosphere alone could freeze a man’s breath.
I followed one step behind Alice as she entered, lowering my gaze out of habit. The Duke sat behind his desk, posture as rigid as the steel armor he often wore in his youth. His mere presence carried weight, enough to make even the bravest knights straighten unconsciously.
"I heard you were calling for me," Alice said, her voice calm but taut, like a bowstring drawn too tight.
"Yes," the Duke replied, leaning back slightly. "Since it’s the demon that defeated you, it would be best if you’re the one to deal with it. I’ll assign guides, knights, and soldiers under your command. Go and avenge yourself."
Avenge...
That word carried a certain heat with it. Given the chaos Velra had caused before, the forces he was offering weren’t small. He was preparing for a full-scale confrontation.
Alice’s fists clenched at her sides—restrained fury in human form. She looked ready to rush out and start the hunt immediately.
The Duke’s expression softened slightly, satisfied by her resolve.
The only one uneasy in the entire room... was me.
’I don’t like this,’ I thought. ’Not one bit.’
Internal strife was a slow poison. The moment allies began acting on personal grudges, someone like Dreck—the real enemy—would find it all too entertaining.
Even as unease twisted my gut, the conversation between father and daughter continued, sharp as swordplay.
"I have a question," Alice said suddenly.
The Duke’s eyes flicked toward her. "Speak."
"Who brought us this news?"
Her tone was calm, but I caught the subtle edge beneath it. Whoever had provided this information—this opportunity for revenge—she clearly intended to meet them personally.
"The captured guerrilla squad leader, Freedman," the Duke said after a pause. "He was the one who reported it."
As if on cue, a man stepped forward from behind the Duke.
Freedman.
The same man whose face I’d hoped never to see again.
He saluted crisply, his every motion disciplined, his expression the very image of loyalty.
"I overheard the demons’ conversation while in captivity," he said confidently. "They’re planning to start a war, in coordination with a vampire who’s already infiltrated our ranks. Fortunately, I managed to glimpse a map marking the hideout’s location."
He spoke like a hero delivering the final piece of a puzzle.
Then, he smiled—a fierce, triumphant grin.
"If you entrust me with the task, I’ll serve as the guide to lead Lady Draken’s forces there myself."
The Duke nodded approvingly, his deep voice rumbling through the chamber. "A true warrior of the North. You’ve done well, Freedman. I’ll remember your name."
"Rewarding and punishing subordinates fairly is a noble’s duty," the Duke added, glancing toward Alice. "Learn from this, my daughter."
But I could barely hear the rest.
Their words were distant, drowned beneath the cold certainty settling in my chest.
Freedman’s story was too perfect. Too clean.
No scars of captivity. No hesitation when he spoke of demons or death. Only polished words and pride.
I didn’t need to see his eyes twice to know.
He wasn’t a survivor.
He was a snake slithering back into the nest.
And the moment Alice marched to that location...
She would be walking straight into a trap.