I Stole The Duke - Chapter 123

“Young Lord, you’re here? His Grace is currently with a guest…”

Michalis had barely stepped into the aide’s office when Sir Sven, the Duke’s assistant, quickly stood up to greet him.

“Father! What on earth are you doing?!”

Before Sir Sven could even try to stop him, Michalis burst into the office without knocking.

“…Just in time.”

The Duke bit down his irritation at his son’s increasingly outrageous behavior. He wanted nothing more than to smack the boy with his cane right then and there—but not in front of an important guest.

“I asked what this is all about. Are you saying I’m getting married?”

“Heh… You already heard? I’m impressed.”

It seemed the office was bugged. Infuriating, yes—but if Michalis was already using the intelligence network like his own limbs, that was a promising trait for the heir to a ducal house.

“Excuse me?”

Michalis froze. His father had confirmed it. That little girl hadn’t been making it up.

“Introduce yourself. She’s the one you’ll soon be engaged to.”

Following his father’s gesture, Michalis slowly turned his eyes toward the sofa.

“My name is Freya Espensen.”

The pink-haired girl stood up gracefully and gave a polite bow.

What the hell…

Michalis swore silently. She looked even smaller than before, her wide eyes staring directly at him. His father had said he’d never remarry after divorcing his seventh wife—and now this? He wanted to bring in a Duchess?

“A pleasure to meet you, Young Lord. I am Count Espensen—your future father-in-law.”

A gentleman with the same pink hair reached out his hand for a handshake.

“…”

I… I’m supposed to marry that little girl?

The teenage Michalis stood there in shock as he shook the Count’s hand. His rebellious spirit was sky-high, but he had no way to go against his father’s power.

“She said she’d starve to death if I didn’t let her marry you. But if you ever try anything twisted like your perverted father, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Count Espensen’s grip tightened painfully around Michalis’s hand. The thought that his precious daughter had chosen a boy nine years older from such a scandalous family—it was enough to make his blood boil.

“This union between our two houses will bring great results.”

Despite the storm churning inside him, the Count’s words came out sounding warm and cordial.

“Let’s move forward with the engagement as soon as possible, and arrange the marriage once your daughter comes of age.”

“That works for me.”

The Duke accepted the unexpected proposal without hesitation. Who would’ve thought a prestigious founding noble family would be the first to bow their head?

As long as there’s no hidden agenda, this is a great opportunity.

This was a political marriage alliance. Through it, the House of Archer would secure not only magic stones but also the lumber used in shipbuilding—at favorable prices. If the Count ever tried to interfere with military affairs, he’d pay for it dearly.

Count Espensen?

That pink hair was unmistakable. Because the doors to both the aide’s room and the office were wide open, Eliana had arrived just in time to catch a glimpse of the Count’s back.

“Then who’s that girl over there?”

At that moment, Michalis suddenly pointed toward the silver-haired girl.

“Michal—”

“Are you saying I should follow in your footsteps and get married multiple times?!”

Eliana flinched at the sharpness in his voice, and Michalis was just as stunned. He hadn’t even planned to marry once, let alone more than once. Was his insane father really trying to line up a second wife before the first marriage had even happened?

“I don’t know that child. What is a little girl doing inside the main residence…?”

The Duke squinted toward the girl standing outside the office—his aging eyesight narrowing in on Eliana.

Too slow, Duchess.

Freya looked Eliana in the eyes and silently mouthed the words.

How… How could this happen?

The Duke’s stare felt like it was cutting through her. Eliana felt like time had suddenly been ripped apart—like everything was spinning backward through a strainer.

“Sir Sven. Why is there a child wandering inside the main estate?”

“I’ll check the visitor log, Your Grace.”

“How did an outsider even get this far? What is the Third Battalion doing? Find her parents and send her back immediately.”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

“Father! Please, listen to me for just a moment!”

As Sir Sven reached for her wrist, Eliana cried out in desperation.

“Father?”

The Duke’s face twisted with fury, like an enraged tiger.

“Yes, Father. Please, just give me five minutes alone with you.”

Eliana was confident—if she could just have five minutes, she could win his heart.

“Sir Sven. Remove the child at once.”

Without a second thought, the Duke waved her off.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Father, why are you doing this to me?!

Eliana fell into despair at the sight of her father brushing her off like a pesky fly. The same man who had once adored her portrait and called her the perfect future daughter-in-law—he had betrayed her. As people say, timing is everything in marriage. And right now, the Duke had no room for another candidate.

“Eliana! So this is where you were. Oh dear, I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

Just then, a man stepped beside Eliana and bowed deeply to Sir Sven.

“You should’ve kept better watch over your daughter!”

“My sincerest apologies. Haha—this won’t happen again. Let’s go, Eliana.”

The man grabbed Eliana’s hand and pulled her along. It was only then that she noticed the familiar black robe peeking out from under his coat.

You’re not my father.

Eliana turned toward the unfamiliar voice. The face was unfamiliar too.

“You… no way… Ka—”

“Sis, do you have any idea how worried I was when you suddenly disappeared?”

The green-haired boy standing next to the stranger grinned. Even as a seven-year-old, his face was unmistakable. It was Olive.

“This can’t be real. It has to be a dream!”

Eliana shouted in panic.

“Yes, you’re dreaming.”

A familiar voice echoed gently in her ear.

“Michal…?”

Eliana blinked in confusion. Right in front of her was a bare, chocolate-colored chest.

“What kind of dream has you talking in your sleep like that?”

Michalis gave a soft laugh and casually draped his training shirt over one shoulder.

“Michal, how old are you right now?”

Instead of asking what time it was, Eliana asked how old he was.

“Twenty-seven.”

“Thank goodness…”

Eliana finally let out a long sigh of relief. That dream had been a complete disaster.

“And why is that a good thing? Because I’m older? Or younger?”

Michalis paused while buttoning up his shirt.

“Because you’re older. That’s better.”

Meeting teenage Michalis—and his tiger-like father—in her dream was more than enough.

“It’s still early. You should rest a bit longer.”

Michalis gently pulled the blanket up to Eliana’s neck.

Because he’s older, huh…

Three months into their marriage, and he still couldn’t figure out his wife’s tastes.

“Ahem… By the way, why were you calling Iadis in your sleep?”

He couldn’t ignore the one thing that had been bothering him. Why had she called for Iadis so desperately when she had her husband right beside her?

“I needed to borrow something.”

In the dream, Iadis had made a perfectly timed appearance—and it had been helpful.

“…Is that so?”

“I don’t think I can fall back asleep. Would it be alright if I watched your training?”

Eliana sat up, brushing aside the blanket Michalis had just pulled over her. After a dream like that, sleep was the last thing on her mind.

“You can watch, but…”

Michalis hesitated. Her thin nightgown left little to the imagination, highlighting the soft curves of her growing figure.

“The morning air is cold, so dress warmly and bring a thick shawl.”

He quickly turned around, pretending to grab his sword. If he kept looking, his whole training session would fly out the window.

“Michal, could I try learning to shoot?”

Eliana’s eyes sparkled as she caught sight of the target board in one corner of his private training ground.

Shooting must be the most effective way to fight a mage, right?
If something like that dream ever happened, she wanted to be ready to shoot first.

“….”

Michalis was momentarily speechless. Now she was interested in firearms, on top of horseback riding?

“Absolutely not.”

He winced, picturing Eliana lying on the ground in a prone shooting stance. It wasn’t her fault—everything around her encouraged it. It was the environment. No wonder she was starting to act like a warrior.

“Absolutely?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Michalis shook his head firmly. Guns were weapons made to kill. One person in their marriage carrying that burden was more than enough.

“Okay.”

Eliana gave up immediately. From his expression, she could tell no amount of pleading would change his mind.

“If you get bored, feel free to head back to the bedroom and rest. Don’t feel pressured to stay.”

Michalis spread a folded blanket over his usual wooden bench and gestured for her to sit.

“Alright…”

“….”

Michalis moved a bit away from her and drew his sword. As he focused, his aura began to surround the blade—glowing with a sharp blue light.

Blue…

It wasn’t the color he wanted. He had hoped for the pure white aura he once summoned when he had taken over Joel’s body while inhabiting Olive.

In my current state, I can’t face a high-level mage.

To face someone of transcendent power, he needed to reach the level of a true Sword master.

But…

There was still a clue. Michalis tried to recall the way mana had moved when he was in Olive’s body—the way the particles floated like dust, and the wave-like ripples that came when magic activated.

Now that he was back in his original body, those memories were fading fast—like waking from a dream. He couldn’t visualize magic circles just by remembering the spell words anymore. He needed to act before those valuable memories disappeared completely.

“….”

Eliana tilted her head. It had been thirty minutes, and he hadn’t moved an inch. Now she understood why he told her she could go back to sleep anytime.

Wow… this is seriously boring.

There was no flashy swordplay or elegant moves to watch—just deep silence.

Gentle ripples shimmered across a cobalt-blue sea. From the middle of the vast ocean, a jet-black figure burst through the surface, followed by a towering spray of white water.

“Got it.”

Joel stood on deck, scanning the sea through a telescope, then smiled.

“Raise the anchor. We’re heading southwest.”

“Yes, Young Master!”

At his command, the experienced crew reeled in their fishing lines and began rushing across the deck.

“The Young Master gave the order—raise the anchor!”

“Changing course! Head southwest!”

A 300-ton fluyt slid smoothly toward the churning foam, leaving a white trail in its wake. This was their third day since setting sail.

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