I Stole The Duke - Chapter 85

“……”

Michalis brought his horse to a stop, pressing his lips into a firm line as he looked down at the man before him.

‘What should I do with him?’

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to pass judgment.

‘How exactly where you guarding her?’

Cedric’s glare was sharp enough to kill Joel on the spot.

‘Joel, you idiot. You’d better explain exactly how Her Ladyship made it all the way there on her own.’

Speaker’s face twisted with barely restrained fury.

“It’s not Sir Joel’s fault. I used the magic scroll on my own. I apologize for causing you and the staff so much concern.”

“My lady…”

Joel bowed his head even lower, shaken by Eliana’s unexpected apology.

“In House Ascher, we don’t punish those who are innocent. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Eliana nudged Michalis lightly with her elbow.

“…That’s right.”

Michalis recognized the words as ones he’d spoken himself once. He accepted her message.

“I won’t hold you accountable for today’s events. Rise, Sir Joel Terius.”

In any case, there was nothing he could’ve done to stop Eliana once she’d decided to use a magic card.

“Yes, Your Grace!”

Joel stood tall again, while the other Azure Knights—who had been mentally cursing him with their eyes—looked rather defeated.

“……”

‘This was supposed to be my chance to become Her Ladyship’s personal guard…’

That annoying Joel had risen from the ashes yet again, like a phoenix.

‘Why does his guard position never end?’
‘Why does Her Ladyship favor Sir Joel so much?’

Every knight fell into a similar line of thought.

‘…It must be the face.’

‘Yeah. Has to be the face.’

None of them even considered that their own personalities might be a bit too intense.

‘If I were ten years younger…’

While most blamed their looks, Sir Ista—who was confident in his face—was the only one blaming age.

“Mm…”

Freya regained consciousness about an hour after House Ascher’s forces had withdrawn.

“My lady? You’re awake?”

“Ah… Jessi.”

Freya slowly raised a hand to her chest, where a dull pain throbbed beneath her ribs.

‘That was definitely a lightning spell…’

The last thing she remembered was the flash of light and the Duchess shouting the activation phrase—then darkness.

“What happened with the territory war…?”

Trying to recall the final moments, Freya sat up against the headboard.

“I’ll go fetch the Count and Countess.”

Rather than answer, Jessi hurried out. Following the master’s orders took precedence.

“Freya!”

Not long after, the Count and Countess burst into the room.

“Father…”

The moment Freya saw her father’s face—aged seemingly overnight—she realized it.

‘It’s over.’

“Freya… my daughter. Why would you do something like this?”

No amount of anger could undo what had already happened. The territory and the fortress had been lost to House Ascher. The Count could do nothing but try to understand what had driven things to this point.

“What could you have possibly lacked, to go that far with the Duchess?”

“……”

Freya simply kept her mouth shut, silently taking in her father’s grief-stricken face.

“Why won’t you say anything? Just… tell me something. Anything.”

The situation was too devastating to accept. The Count desperately hoped this was all some kind of setup—some kind of lie.

“A defense?”

Freya didn’t feel like defending herself. She was planning to die soon and reset everything anyway.

“Yes…”

Still, her father seemed to need it, so she figured she might as well give him something.

“I needed the Duke.”

“What!?”

The Count was stunned. He had asked for a defense—only to be handed a confession.

“Y-You… Do you even know what you’re saying right now?”

This was the last thing he’d expected. What kind of melodrama was she implying? She barely knew the man.

“Yes, I know.”

Freya could see exactly what her father was misunderstanding. She had never had romantic feelings for the Duke. Being mistaken for a jealous lover wasn’t pleasant.

“Just as you became the Empress’s sword to kill the Emperor’s illegitimate child—”

“Freya… how do you know about that…?”

‘Because of that, our family was wiped out four times over.’

It was something her father had done—for his daughter, to raise her to the highest position. But if she said everything out loud, she’d likely break him. So Freya swallowed her words.

“I just needed a sword to protect myself, that’s all.”

“You say that, but the Duchess—!”

The Count flared up but barely managed to rein in his anger.

“Even if that’s how you saw it… how could you have gone that far…? Haa…”

To him, she had always been a sweet, obedient daughter. He’d been so obsessed with making her the Crown Princess that he never once considered what she might have been doing behind his back. And now he had to face that failure as a father.

“We’ve lost our lands and our stronghold… and soon, the palace will send for you.”

A formal criminal report would soon be filed—attempted murder and conspiracy to assassinate the Duchess. He’d said the palace to soften it, but what he really meant was the Imperial detention center. She would remain there until the trial concluded.

“But don’t worry too much.”

At least it was a facility meant for nobles—it wouldn’t be utterly inhumane.

“I’ll do everything I can to defend you…”

The title of Crown Princess would be stripped immediately. From now on, the Count’s sole goal was to save his daughter from execution.

“…I’m sorry, Father.”

This life was a complete failure.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll undo everything.’

Freya lowered her head before her father, who didn’t rage at her but instead tried to comfort her.

“Get some rest.”

After a moment of gazing at her, the Count turned away. He had a mountain of work to do. All assets, aside from real estate, had to be moved to Wespa, and he needed to prepare every transfer document.

“……”

Once the door closed, Freya, who had been leaning weakly against the headboard, slowly sat up. She had to die—to go back in time.

Click.

She immediately opened the desk drawer where she’d hidden the poison.

‘This is…’

What caught her eye first wasn’t the vial of poison, but a torn piece of notepad paper—handwritten in a familiar, elegant script.

A short message, unmistakably in the Duchess’s handwriting:

{ Freya. There won’t be a second chance—don’t die. }

“…Ha.”

Freya let out a short, bitter laugh.

‘Is this a joke? This is all your fault.’

The reason this life had completely fallen apart was because of the Duchess—an impurity that had thrown everything off balance.

“The Duchess… she’s a mage, isn’t she?”

The laugh quickly faded. Freya recalled the magic circle behind the Duchess just before she passed out.

Thud.

She pulled down the sunflower painting on the wall.

‘The magic circle is gone?’

The vivid markings she remembered were nowhere to be seen.

‘What trick did she pull…?’

It was clear the Duchess had done something. She just didn’t know what—or why.

‘Not that it matters anymore.’

Once she returned to May 17th of this year, she hoped the Duchess wouldn’t exist. And if by chance the impurity was still there, she’d deal with it then. If she was lucky enough to go back ten years, then she’d do whatever it took to claim the Duke.

Gulp.

Freya crumpled the note, tossed it aside, and pulled out the vial of poison buried deep in the drawer.

“Hrk…”

‘Please… let me go back ten years.’

A searing pain burned down her throat, and darkness closed in around her.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The hands of the pocket watch around Karahan’s neck began to shift.

“What! Already?”

Startled from his post-lunch nap, Karahan sat up, blinking. It had only been a little over a month since the watch had started turning backward.

‘Strange…’

He picked it up to check and tilted his head.

“Heh… must be broken.”

The hands were only turned back by seven minutes—far from the wild spinning they should’ve done once it started.

“Just ten more minutes…”

His eyes fluttered closed again. Unfortunately, he was too drowsy to realize what had truly happened.

[Unauthorized access to memory detected. User protection system engaged. Access blocked.]

‘Ah!’

Eliana gasped at the sudden system message in her mind.

‘Someone tried to tamper with memory… Regression? Freya must’ve died.’

The final regression spell must have activated.

“Riana?”

Michalis turned back, puzzled as Eliana suddenly stopped walking during their afternoon stroll.

“It’s nothing.”

‘It’s over now. No more regression spells.’

She walked with Michalis again, retracing the same path they’d walked just seven minutes ago. From here on, the final life would be entirely Freya’s to shape.

Cough!

Freya jolted awake, coughing as her throat burned like fire.

‘What is this…’

Looking down, she realized she was wearing the same clothes as before—and still holding the vial of poison.

“What…?”

Her eyes darted to the date on the newspaper on the desk: Empire Year 321, June 22nd—clear as day.

“This… can’t be.”

She had returned not years or months, but mere minutes before her death.

‘Did the Duchess… do something?’

She set the vial down on the desk with a trembling hand.

‘There won’t be a second chance—don’t die?’

“Ah… Ahaha…”

Freya began to laugh uncontrollably.

Just when she was finally ready to use the curse properly… it was over. What timing. Unbelievable.

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