I Stole The Duke - Chapter 60

“W-What? My lady…?”

Joel was clearly flustered.

Why? Why is this happening?

Shocked beyond words, Joel repeatedly asked himself. He had never intentionally tried to seduce her! Throughout the date, Riela had maintained a calm composure, never swept away by emotion. She seemed to understand the situation perfectly. He had even thought, Ah, this is what makes a future Crown Princess different.

My lady… Why are you doing this to me?

The Crown Prince was undeniably beautiful, with a decent personality, and above all—he held a power no one could challenge. Why would she throw that away?

“Sigh… You thief.”

The Marquess let out a deep sigh and lifted his head to the sky. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, and the stars shone brightly overhead.

Wait… What did I even do wrong?

The Marquess’s sharp, icy stare bore into Joel, who bristled under the silent accusation.

“I—Why am I being called a thief?!”

Joel felt wronged. All he’d wanted was a temporary strategic partnership—not to steal anyone’s heart.

“Follow me inside. Let’s set an engagement date.”

Grinding his teeth, the Marquess spoke with a look that went beyond “thief”—one that hurled even more vicious insults through his glare.

“W-What? How did we get here?!”

Shouldn’t he be trying to stop his daughter, not barrel full-speed into marriage negotiations?!

“My daughter says she’s in love with you! Or what, are you saying you’re no longer interested now?”

The Marquess’s fist clenched threateningly. Depending on Joel’s answer, the cane might come flying again.

“N-No! Of course not!”

Riela truly was the Empire’s most ideal bride. And honestly… she even fit Joel’s type—graceful and refined. But this was all far too sudden.

“Then become my son-in-law.”

The Marquess had already changed his mind. After just a brief conversation, he’d realized something:

This brat—he’s the real deal.
No matter what he did, he’d succeed. You didn’t let men like this slip away.

“But wasn’t your goal to see Lady Riela become Empress?”

Joel understood the Marquess’s political stance well. He was a noble loyal to the royal family through and through. His daughter becoming Empress was critical to suppressing the growing power of the aristocratic faction.

“Wouldn’t you need to become the Emperor’s father-in-law to do that?”

That awareness—that obstacle—had always kept Joel’s feelings in check, no matter how drawn he was to Riela.

“Yes, she must become Empress. But I have another daughter, don’t I?”

The Marquess’s strategy had already shifted. If Joel’s plan went as expected and the Espensen family crumbled, he’d position his younger daughter to take the vacant Crown Princess spot.

The Crown Prince is nineteen. Olina is sixteen. Not a bad match.

He hadn’t yet engaged his second daughter, mainly because none of the candidates had impressed him. Thank goodness.

“So you, be my son-in-law.”

The Marquess seized the formerly free-spirited “star” of the South with both hands.

“You’re not going home until we’ve chosen the engagement date.”

Not only had he caught a star—he was ready to lock it in a cage.

“Good heavens! Isn’t that a bit much?!”

“Do you… not want to?”

Riela’s eyes shimmered with tears, and Joel’s heart sank like a stone.

“O-Of course not! That’s not it at all.”

Thus, Joel’s glamorous vacation came to a chaotic end.

Imperial Year 321, June 14.

At 4:00 a.m., as always, Michalis awoke to begin his daily training—but today, his face was pale with worry.

“Eliana!”

The night before, when they’d fallen asleep after their date, everything had seemed fine. But now—Eliana’s body was burning with fever.

“Eliana, please! Open your eyes!”

He pressed his hand to her forehead and gently shook her, his voice tight with panic.

“Michal…?”

Startled by the movement, Eliana barely opened her eyes—only to scream silently in her mind.

Oh no!

Her voice was hoarse, and it felt like her throat had been stabbed with a knife. She’d been a little tired before bed—but nothing like this.

“What’s going on? Why are you like this?”

Only after she called his name did Michalis feel slightly relieved, though his expression remained troubled.

Is this my fault?

He had taken her all over the city the day before. Had he overdone it? Regret surged within him.

“I… I’m alright. Michal, please… the magic card box in the second drawer of the desk… The key is in the third row of the bookshelf… inside the blue dictionary.”

Her throat throbbed, her body burned, and her head was fuzzy—she could barely speak.

“Understood. Just wait a moment.”

Dream… search for Eliana Ascher’s current status.

As Michalis moved quickly toward the bookshelf, Eliana activated the system from her bed. She needed to know what was happening to her.

[Search complete.]

A softly glowing pop-up window appeared.

Search Term: Eliana Ascher

• • Name: Eliana Ascher

• • Age: 19

• • Image: Portrait

• • Nationality: Empire of Wespera

• • Height/Weight: 159cm, 42.3kg

• • Status: Infected with disease (Black Death – Bubonic Plague)

What the—?! I’m infected with the Black Plague?!

Eliana’s eyes widened in horror as she fought off the rising headache and tried to steady her breath.

“Dream, search for bubonic plague.”

The Black Death was something Eliana had only ever heard about in world history classes. Aside from its infamous name, she didn’t know much about it in detail.

[Search complete.]

Eliana slowly read through the densely packed data that appeared in the popup window.

“In the pre-antibiotic era, without proper treatment, the mortality rate is 80%. In the early stages of bubonic plague, person-to-person transmission is not possible. However, once the infection worsens without treatment, it can spread through pus or respiratory droplets.”

Her body wasn’t strong enough to survive something with an 80% fatality rate. This was basically a death sentence.

How… How did this happen?!

Eliana began to carefully retrace her steps from the tea party. No rats had touched her. She had no visible signs of flea bites.

“Ah!”

No… don’t tell me—it was that handkerchief?!

Her dress had been soaked with tea. She’d wiped herself with the handkerchief Freya had handed her, touched up her makeup in the powder room, and washed her hands afterward. Most likely, the bacteria had entered her system during that process—through the contact with her face.

“Haa…”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. How foolish. She could protect others from illness—but not herself. All that confidence in knowing a bit of ancient magic, and she’d walked straight into it.

Freya… Are you completely out of your mind?

She had gone so far as to risk her own infection for this scheme. With the power of regression behind her, Freya had clearly decided to throw caution to the wind.

“Here you are.”

Just then, Michalis returned with the magic card box and helped Eliana sit up gently against the headboard.

“Which color card should I look for?”

“Green.”

Michalis pulled out all the green-colored cards and placed them in her hands.

“Imperial Cure Disease.”

It didn’t take long for Eliana to find the healing card and speak the activation phrase.

Fwoosh.

Instantly, the pain in her throat vanished and her head cleared.

“Thank you, Michal. I think it was just a bad fever. You saved me.”

There’s no way I’m telling him it was the plague.

The last thing she wanted was for Michalis to panic—so she masked it as a common cold.

“A fever, huh…? I must’ve pushed you too hard yesterday.”

His expression was full of guilt as he gently checked her now-cooled forehead.

Freya, you’ve really lost your mind…

It was obvious Michalis was blaming himself, and that only made Eliana angrier at Freya.

So she only needs the main forces to survive? That’s it?

At the Sword Expert level and beyond, one’s immunity rose dramatically—making it near impossible to fall ill from common plagues. Freya likely expected Michalis and the elite knights of the Azure Order to survive while the rest of the estate perished.

If I hadn’t known how to use magic… everyone at Wespera Manor could’ve been wiped out.

That tasteless gossip article had just been an appetizer. The real attack was biological warfare—weaponizing the plague. It was more insidious than poison and left no evidence.

She might as well have used poison.

To fall victim to such a brutal attack with no proof… Eliana was seething.

“Michal, I’m really okay now. Don’t worry.”

She tried to reassure him—he was still hovering by her side.

“I’d like to sleep a bit more.”

“Yes. It’s still early morning… Please rest.”

Only after Eliana lay back down and closed her eyes did Michalis finally step away.

No… I can’t just sit still anymore.

Once his footsteps faded and she could no longer hear him, Eliana’s eyes shot open.

Maybe it’s time for a little counterattack.

Freya, now in her fifth lifetime, was no ordinary opponent.

If this is how cruel you’re willing to be, then I’ll have to change my strategy too.

Passive defense wouldn’t work anymore. She never knew where or how the next attack would come—and worst of all, Freya wasn’t just targeting her. She was dragging others into it as well.

Dream, show me page 3 of the spellbook <Black Lock>.

[Search complete.]

The biggest problem was that Freya couldn’t be killed. That alone made retaliation tricky. What Eliana needed was something small—but sharp enough to sting.

A psychological attack would be best.

Keeping her eyes on the pop-up window, Eliana carefully scanned through the spellbook index.

There.

A spell at the beginner level caught her eye—perfectly suited for what she had in mind.

She wasn’t going to sleep anyway. Rising from bed, Eliana made her way to the desk and began sketching out a magic circle on a blank card.

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