Chapter 48

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Nightmare
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“This is—”

“Don’t say it.”

Diello said urgently. But it was already too late.

Perhaps it was because even with his flames of purification, he couldn’t simply burn away all the oxygen in the air.

The moment I thought the approaching white mist was making my eyes sting and my throat burn.

*Clatter, crash!*

Having dropped the tableware, I slumped sideways, devoid of strength.

“……!”

The last thing I saw as I fell was the knight’s face.

He was already dead, perhaps because he couldn’t escape the poison’s reach after releasing it.

…Risking your life to release a poison is just too much.

With that final thought, my consciousness faded to black.

* * *

The dining hall had no windows facing the outside.

This was to prevent exposure to attacks from the outside, such as arrows.

It wasn’t that there were no vents, but the ventilation was hardly good enough to clear out the rapidly spreading poison in an instant.

*CRASH!*

It made no difference even after Diello blasted the door open with the Argenta flame.

“Croire!”

He was unaffected even amidst the white poisonous mist, but Croire was not.

The name of this poison—a white mist with a cloyingly sweet scent that dragged people into terrible dreams—was ‘Nightmare.’

Of course, few people ever woke from those dreams.

“They couldn’t have been unaware that I’m resistant to this poison.”

After all, the first thing the heads of each family do is build up resistance to various poisons.

And for a poison as famous and deadly as Nightmare, developing an immunity was a given.

“My lord!”

“My lady!”

Diello carried Croire in his arms, pushing through the white mist and out of the room.

Startled servants followed after them.

“Bring something to wipe away the poisonous residue. Now.”

Diello’s icy voice rang out.

“The physician, Nias, is on his way.”

The doctor had been contacted swiftly.

Nias, who had learned about poisons even before medicine, would be able to handle this situation properly.

But had she inhaled too much of the poison?

“……Croire.”

Diello looked down at Croire’s already pale lips.

It was strange to see those red lips, which had so often chattered away, lively and confident, now drained of all color.

As soon as Diello laid Croire on the bed, the maids swarmed around.

With their noses and mouths covered by cloth, their gloved hands busily wiped the poisonous residue from Croire’s body.

“First, we must have her drink this!”

Nias, who had rushed up, held up an antidote.

Then he paused, seeing Croire’s condition.

If Nightmare were a poison that merely showed dreams, there would be no reason for such a commotion.

Nightmare showed its victims dreams so terrible they were unbearable.

And if they couldn’t bear it and let their minds go, they would die just like that.

Of course, a peaceful death was a lucky outcome. Many had seizures in the process.

Its defining feature, perhaps, was that no matter how much they seized or felt pain, they could not wake from the dream.

Not until the poison was neutralized.

And if the antidote was too late, it was all over.

“……Is her condition serious?”

Diello paid no mind to his own poison-laced clothes and body.

It was too weak to have any effect on him.

But not for his bride.

He had shielded her the moment he saw the white mist, but he couldn’t stop her from breathing it in.

‘…….’

The sensation of Croire’s body going limp in his arms was still vivid.

As Diello looked down at his hands, Nias spoke.

“The antidote was administered quickly, but the Nightmare is spreading too fast.”

Nias wore a troubled expression.

“Does my lady happen to dream often?”

It was an established fact that those who dreamed frequently were more vulnerable to Nightmare.

“……Dreams?”

Diello froze.

Hadn’t she told him?

That sometimes, she dreamed of being trapped in a fire.

His face twisted.

“Not often, but occasionally.”

She had said she did.

At his words, Nias’s expression darkened further.

“……”

Diello’s expression turned cold as ice.

Nias hurried to treat Croire, but he couldn’t remove all of the poison.

“We can only hope the nightmare doesn’t consume her before the antidote takes effect.”

After focusing on the detoxification for a long while, Nias finally stepped back.

He had done his best.

“……”

But Croire, her breathing somewhat ragged, was still trapped in a nightmare, her lips pale.

Diello bit his lip.

His empty hands felt hollow.

The vivid image of her collapsing from something other than his own touch was suffocating.

Why?

They must have known I was resistant to Nightmare, so this was clearly aimed at Croire.

He had thought Croire was captivating.

In fact, he would have been furious with anyone who thought otherwise.

But he hadn’t wanted her to draw so much attention that she would become a target.

A person so radiant you couldn’t look away, even though she was dazzling.

He should have known sooner, much sooner, that there would be those who would target her for that very reason.

He had assumed that if anyone were to be targeted, it would be him.

But it seemed she had shone brighter at the gathering than he’d expected.

*Thud.*

Pushing off the wall he was leaning against, Diello began to walk.

No one dared to speak to the family head as he strode quickly away.

A heat haze shimmered around him as he walked down the silent corridor.

His magic was reacting to his fury.

A suffocating heat lingered in his wake.

I want to smash the plan and everything else to pieces.

If the enemy was going to target Croire, then this damn plan was useless.

Croire, wait until the enemy lets their guard down, you say?

‘Use me to—’

My bride, my bride.

He let out a loose smile. A sharp, bitter sneer formed on his lips.

It was a sneer directed at himself.

Why had he entertained such a foolish idea?

At first, he had only intended to eliminate Alloje. But hadn’t his objective changed?

I want my bride. I want to make her completely mine.

If so, then shouldn’t the method change as well?

The very plan of using something that should be treasured and revered as a mere tool was absurd.

My bride, it seems I can never be as elegant as you.

He felt something snap inside his head.

“Rick.”

As his low voice echoed, Rick, the head of intelligence, appeared by his side.

“Gather everyone who has come and gone from the estate, as well as all the servants.”

Rick’s eyes widened.

“To the servants below the third floor—”

He was asking if he intended to show such a chilling side even to the low-ranking servants.

Diello answered instantly, without blinking.

“Regardless. All of them.”

If Croire was to be the target, it was better for him to be the one who stood out.

“My lord.”

Whether he was staining his sword with blood or burning something with flames, Rick, the head of intelligence, always wore a cheerful expression, earning him the nickname ‘the cheerful psycho.’

It meant that he was rarely fazed by anything.

No, he was the type to enjoy tense situations.

But when Rick’s eyes met his lord’s, he realized something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“……”

Diello’s blue eyes were shrouded in a strange light.

They say blue flames are the hottest.

“I’ll gather them at once.”

Rick moved quickly.

It seemed his lord was not just angry, but utterly enraged.

The faint glimmer of magic in his eyes. It was a precursor to an ‘emotional rampage.’

When a powerful individual loses their reason to the point where they can no longer control their abilities.

A state where they run wild, closer to their true nature.

That state was called an emotional rampage.

“Go gather every last servant in the estate. And.”

Rick said to an intelligence agent. Then he added urgently.

“Contact Lord Redius Argenta. Quickly.”

Diello Argenta, who exercised extreme self-control, had never had an emotional rampage before.

But now, on the verge of one, the only person who could possibly stop him was his mentor and kinsman, Redius Argenta.

“……Will it even be possible to calm him down?”

Rick watched the agent disappear swiftly, then glanced back to where Diello had been.

…Thinking of how the lord and lady had been, far too sweet for it to be just an act.

Could Lord Redius truly stop him?

“I don’t know.”

It wasn’t something the head of intelligence should say, but Rick truly had no idea.

Croire Argenta.

The lady of the house, who had come from Alloje and adapted to Argenta all too well.

But also the one who would have to leave this family should the real Pero ever appear.

She alone might hold the answer.

The problem was.

“……She hasn’t woken up yet, has she?”

She was currently unconscious.

For once, Rick’s face turned pale.