I Stole The Duke - Chapter 61

“Dream, image search.”

Because it was such a basic spell, drawing the magic circle took Eliana no more than five minutes.

[Beginning image search… Search complete.]

Image Search Result

• • Name: Magic Card (Imperial Anxiety Curse)

• • Type: Curse

• • Grade: D-

• • Material: Paper, ink, glue, lowest-grade mana stone

• • Market Value: No transaction records

• • Effect: Induces anxiety in the target

• • Creator: Eliana Ascher

• • Remaining Uses: 50/50

• • Special Notes: Non-contact curse magic. Can be used repeatedly on the same target, with the effect intensifying upon repetition.

“Imperial Anxiety Curse. Freya Espensen.”

As it was a non-contact spell, Eliana only needed to clearly picture the target and speak their full name aloud.

“Imperial Anxiety Curse. Freya Espensen.”

She only repeated the incantation three times. Too much anxiety could drive someone to drastic actions—even suicide—and that would be problematic. Just a touch of anxiety was all she needed.

If I’m going to deal with a lunatic, I should at least meet her halfway, right?

It wasn’t even 5 a.m. yet when Freya, deep in sleep, received the curse.

Now then… not much time left, is there? I hope the pressure eats away at you, Freya.

Freya could afford to take her time and operate behind the scenes because she had a safety net: another life. The luxury of a regressor. What Eliana needed to do now was strip away that calm. Desperation led to mistakes, and mistakes left a trail.

Maybe now I can actually get some sleep.

Feeling far more settled, Eliana lay back down and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

“Young Lady, here’s the newspaper you requested.”

“Thanks.”

Freya opened the paper the moment she finished washing up.

Scandals only needed a single day to bloom and fester. Now it was time to see how things had twisted overnight.

“Ah!”

A cry escaped her lips the instant the paper unfolded.

“W-What is it, my lady?” Jessi blinked, startled by the sudden shout.

“I-It’s nothing.”

Freya nearly threw the paper across the room. The front page was completely filled with a full-body photo of that fox.

Disgusting. What a cursed way to start the day.

With her brows furrowed, she aggressively flipped the page.

<Wespera Daily Sports>

The Alluring Man from the South, “J”
He Stole the Crown Princess Candidate!

The radiant star from the South—he was a real man.
They say he fell in love at first sight with “L.”
His relentless pursuit eventually won her heart.

(Snipped)

Exclusive: public date captured at a prominent Wespera tea house.
The way he looked at her… it was like sugar in the air.

— Reporter: J.R

The entire article read like a tribute to that fox.

The Empire’s Hottest Couple: The Duke and Duchess’s Romantic Date
(Excerpt)

— Reporter: J.R

The next article included photos from the Duke and Duchess’s public date—sweet, composed, effective.

“Hmph.”

Freya scoffed. It was disappointing the scandal hadn’t spiraled further, but she wasn’t surprised. That side wasn’t stupid. She had already predicted this kind of counterattack.

Desperately clawing at damage control, huh? Not that it’ll help.

Still, Riela had clearly been knocked out of the race for Crown Princess. No matter how much the Emperor favored her, royal marriages were heavily influenced by the Empress—and this kind of “flamboyant romance” was a glaring stain.

Riela Rancelloti, you’re finished.

The Duchess might’ve cleared her name, but this was still a partial win. All Freya needed now was confirmation that the Duchess had collapsed from illness.

But why… why do I feel uneasy?

Everything had gone to plan, yet a gnawing anxiety crept up from the depths of her chest.

What if Riela really marries her guard knight?

What if that fox somehow becomes a son-in-law of House Rancelloti?

She was having absurd thoughts. Marquess Rancelloti was still alive ten years in the future. There was no reason for concern.

No… That can’t happen.

Still, as she tried to imagine her ten-years-later self—alive and unbothered—it suddenly felt far less certain than before.

“If she gets in the way, then I’ll just kill her later.”

That sly fox would no doubt become a nuisance even after becoming the Crown Princess.

Calm down, Freya. This isn’t the time to be imagining things… Just focus on whether the Duchess has fallen or not.

Freya shook herself free from the strange wave of unease that had washed over her. If the attack had worked as intended, then the incubation period should be ending—and results would soon show.

“Jessi, can you check if any letters came for me early this morning?”

Her growing anxiety was now turning into impatience.

“Yes, my lady.”

Jessi, who had been standing by with a change of clothes, quickly set them down and left the room.

Knock knock.

“Come in, Jessi.”

“My lady, a letter just arrived—from the Duchess of Ascher, in fact.”

Of course. The Duchess had already responded.

“Give it here.”

Freya all but snatched the envelope from Jessi’s hands and tore open the seal.

{ Dearest Freya,

I seem to have caught a terrible fever.

I feel like I’d recover faster if I could see the face of my only friend.

Would it be too much trouble to ask for a visit?

—Eliana Ascher,
Imperial Year 321, June 14 }

A smirk curled at Freya’s lips.

Perfect. The attack landed just right.

In Imperial Year 321, the Great Plague was due to break out. It began in early June in Wespera’s Third District, wasn’t recognized for its severity until the end of the month, and only started to subside in early August—after three high-ranking mages from the Tower were dispatched in mid-July.

If you die, Eliana, maybe it’ll be a blessing for the rest of the world.

If the Duchess—and the baby she carried—died from the plague, it would send shockwaves across the empire. And with such a high-ranking noble lost, the sluggish Magic Tower might finally act faster. In a way, it would be a good thing for the poor.

Visiting the sick, huh? That’s rich. She doesn’t even know she’s infected with the plague and thinks it’s just a cold.

Though it was still in the early stages and not yet contagious with basic precautions, visiting her was absolutely out of the question.

Still… something’s odd. If her fever was that bad, she shouldn’t even have had the strength to write a letter.

Freya’s soft smile froze as a new wave of doubt and unease crept back in.

Is it because it’s still early?

Currently, only high-ranking mages from the Tower could cure the plague. And it took more than two weeks just to summon one outside. The Duchess, with her frail health, wouldn’t last that long.

But what if this letter… is a lie?

The attack seemed to have worked—but Freya couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was wrong.

This doesn’t feel right. I can’t just sit around like this.

She had to go. She needed to see the Duchess with her own eyes.

“Jessi, prepare my outfit. I’m going out.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Freya was now determined to confirm with her own two eyes: that Eliana Ascher was dying.

“Isn’t that the Espensen family crest?”

Michalis had just finished a secret training session with Joel and was heading back to the main residence when he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Yes, Your Grace. It’s indeed the Espensen family crest.”

Joel narrowed his eyes as he answered. The carriage arriving at the entrance clearly bore the familiar emblem.

That woman…

When a lady with pale pink hair stepped down from the carriage, Joel’s stomach turned.

“…….”

What is she trying to pull now?

Michalis’s expression hardened. To come to the duchy just two days after spreading that scandal—it was beyond shameless. He couldn’t begin to fathom Freya’s intentions.

Rustle. Rustle.
The long hem of her dress brushed the ground as she approached and came to a stop before them.

“It’s an honor to see you again, Duke Ascher.”

Freya lifted her skirt slightly in a curtsey, escorted by her family’s knight.

It’s best to keep my distance from the Duke for now.

This wasn’t the time to get close to him. In about three years, after the Duchess’s tragic death, she would slowly reappear in his life with soft memories—then it would be safe to approach.

“What brings you here?”

Michalis’s tone was cold—far colder than Freya had anticipated. That familiar wave of dread, which she thought she’d suppressed, returned in full force.

Why… why does he feel so hostile toward me?

“I received word that the Duchess had come down with a fever. I’ve come to visit her.”

Freya forced herself to remain calm. The Duke had a reputation as a devoted husband. Surely his foul mood was due to worry for his pregnant wife.

“A visit?”

Michalis’s brow furrowed. Eliana’s fever had completely passed.

What is this cheap act she’s playing at now?

“Ah, and congratulations are in order, Your Grace. I’ve only just heard about the Duchess’s pregnancy.”

It was getting more and more absurd.

No way she didn’t have the chance to be corrected. So she’s using the pregnancy as part of her act now?

Eliana had met Freya two days ago. If she hadn’t corrected her by now, then it meant she was intentionally keeping the misinformation going.

“Thank you for the kind words.”

Michalis chose to play along for now.

There’s no way those two are friends.

One thing was clear—Eliana was lying to this woman. And vice versa.

What exactly is Riela planning?

This entire charade left a sour taste in Michalis’s mouth.

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