Chapter 42

“Then how about… Arthur? I hardly ever call my little brother by his name anyway.”

Woof! Woof!

The dog suddenly perked up its ears and tail before barking loudly.

It didn’t sound like it approved.

If anything, it seemed to be protesting even more fiercely than it had at “James.”

“Whoa!”

Startled, Aethlyn dropped the stick she was holding.

The dog immediately snatched it up and bolted.

“Hey! I told you I don’t have time to play with you right now! We still have to decide on your name!”

Even as she complained, Aethlyn had already started chasing after it.

As the two of them ran around the lawn behind the estate, someone watched them with worried eyes.

It was Ben, the gamekeeper.

‘*Something about this still isn’t right.*’

It had already been over a month since Aethlyn had taken in the stray dog.

During that time, the people at the estate had become surprisingly fond of it.

The servants had given it all sorts of nicknames even though Aethlyn still hadn’t settled on an official name, and the members of House Wintercrown hadn’t rejected it either.

Now and then, Young Duchess Janet made no effort to hide her displeasure, but that was about it.

Her attention was entirely focused on her own son, Arthur.

The only one who couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off…

…was Ben.

‘*It can’t be a werewolf.*’

There was an even more convincing reason than the “look in its eyes” Arcan had mentioned.

‘*A werewolf couldn’t stay in beast form for this long.*’

It was because of a little-known trait of werewolves.

They could freely shift between their half-human form and their complete beast form.

But even that had its limits.

They couldn’t maintain either form for an extended period.

How long “extended” meant varied depending on the werewolf’s strength and maturity.

But one thing was certain.

‘No werewolf could remain in beast form for an entire month.’

If they did, their consciousness would gradually become accustomed to that form until they could no longer return.

Ben knew this from his years in the military, where he had overseen several Wildman special units, including the Fenrir Detachment.

In the end, he couldn’t understand why he alone remained so uneasy.

The Duke Wintercrown approved of the dog.

The veterinarian had said it was fine.

The other servants had accepted it.

So why was he the only one who couldn’t shake this feeling?

‘*It’s suspicious. It has to be.*’

Why, though?

As he retraced the source of his unease, one memory resurfaced.

It was from the day the dog had first appeared at the estate.

After the examination by that thoroughly untrustworthy veterinarian, Ben had temporarily placed it in the kennel with the Young Duke’s hunting dogs.

And the moment he did…

Chaos broke out.

The purebred hunting dogs raised by the Young Duke all tucked their tails between their legs and bristled in terror.

Dogs that wouldn’t have flinched even against a bear had reacted with overwhelming fear at the appearance of the unfamiliar beast.

Then something even stranger happened.

The black dog surrendered immediately.

It didn’t even try to size up its opponents.

Instead, it rolled onto its back, flattened its ears, tucked its tail…

…and openly displayed complete submission.

‘That was what felt unnatural.’

There had been something unsettling about it.

It hadn’t looked like a natural interaction.

It felt more like…

…it had been trying to prove to someone that it wasn’t dangerous.

At that moment, a possibility crossed Ben’s mind.

‘What if… it was only pretending to be pitiful?’

What if it wasn’t weak at all?

What if it wasn’t gentle at all?

What if it was merely acting that way?

A cold chill ran down his spine.

Come to think of it, when Aethlyn had first brought the black dog home…

…it hadn’t had a single injury.

It had wandered alone through such a vast forest, yet there wasn’t a scratch on it.

Not a wound.

Not even a sign that it had ever been hurt.

Which meant…

No other creature in the forest had attacked it.

There was something else.

Ben had never heard of anyone nearby losing a dog or abandoning one.

He had even asked the caretakers of the neighboring villas.

Every single one of them had answered that they’d never heard anything of the sort.

‘*I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a stray wolfdog… but maybe it’s something far more sinister.*’

Perhaps they should have someone other than that quack veterinarian examine it.

The Young Duke had a proper expert they regularly consulted.

Maybe that person should take a look instead.

But the thought only lasted a moment.

Ben let out a deep sigh and turned away.

“Forget it. It’s easier to pretend I never noticed than to try convincing a mage.”

Once Arcan had permitted the dog to stay, overturning that decision was practically impossible.

Mages were stubborn.

Simply because they could use magic, they behaved as though they stood above everyone else.

They would never admit that their own judgment could be wrong.

Even Arcan, whom Ben deeply respected, wasn’t exempt from that flaw.

The gamekeeper recalled Arcan’s words.

“No matter how obedient or submissive they pretend to be on the outside, deep down, their anger never fades. The seed of rebellion coils within them, waiting for the chance to sprout.”

“Ah, whatever. I’ve already given my warning.”

Ben clicked his tongue in exasperation and walked away.

Whatever happened from this point on, it wasn’t his responsibility.

Whatever it was, those self-important mages could deal with it themselves.

Even so…

The uneasy feeling never completely left him.

All he could do was hope his suspicions were nothing more than the paranoia of an old soldier.

Instead of settling on a name, Aethlyn ended up playing with the black dog for another round, and before she knew it, it was already three in the afternoon.

She returned to the estate pleasantly exhausted, only to be greeted with unwelcome news.

The butler, Kaen, approached her wearing an apologetic expression.

“Young Duchess Janet wishes to see you, Lady Aethlyn.”

“Why?”

“She said… she’d explain it to you herself.”

“I understand. Tell her I just got back and that I’ll be a little late.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The moment the butler turned his back, the bright smile on Aethlyn’s face vanished without a trace.

Her stepmother had called for her.

The dog, now faithfully walking at her feet, let out a worried huff.

She felt its warm breath brush against her ankle.

Aethlyn sighed heavily as she stroked its head.

‘…Now what does she want?’

Sensing its master’s gloomy mood, the dog didn’t follow her all the way to her room.

Aethlyn climbed the stairs with irritated steps and shut the door a little harder than necessary.

She headed straight for the mirror.

The reflection that greeted her was a mess.

“…Sigh.”

A sigh escaped her naturally.

Her normally neat golden hair had been tossed about by the wind until it stuck out in every direction.

Her clothes were wrinkled beyond saving.

Anyone could tell she’d been running around like an energetic colt.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Aethlyn patiently untangled her hair with her fingers before running a comb through it.

Next came her clothes.

Rather than changing outfits, she simply smoothed out the creased sleeves and picked the bits of grass from the hem of her skirt.

When she looked in the mirror again…

A poised young lady of House Wintercrown stared back at her.

‘Does anything still look out of place?’

As a test, Aethlyn slowly curled the corners of her lips into a smile.

The girl in the mirror responded with a flawless one.

“This should be good enough.”

She always had to appear perfect in front of her stepmother.

The moment she showed even the slightest weakness…

Janet would pounce like a shark smelling blood.

The Aethlyn in the mirror wore a faint, crooked smile of ridicule.

She simply found her stepmother…

Janet…

…ridiculous.

If Aethlyn truly had no flaws to criticize, was that why Janet kept nitpicking the black dog she’d brought home?

Whenever the Duke and the Young Duke weren’t around, Janet would occasionally complain about it.

“What an ugly-looking beast.”

“Keep it away from Arthur. I’m afraid it might cause an accident.”

Perhaps that was what this meeting would be about again.

As she descended toward the first-floor drawing room, Aethlyn made up her mind.

‘Before I leave for the Academy… I need to make this perfectly clear.’

Don’t touch what’s mine.

Of course, she didn’t actually believe Janet would do something cruel to the dog while she was away.

The black dog had been allowed into the estate with Duke Arcan’s permission.

Harming it would be the same as challenging the Duke’s authority.

Janet Wintercrown.

She came from a distant branch of House Wintercrown, one whose fortunes had long since fallen into decline.

When the family elders were searching for a second wife for the Young Duke, a genealogist had recommended Janet as the ideal match, saying,

“This pairing will produce the strongest manifestation of House Wintercrown’s abstract magic.”

“But… her parents were hardly exceptional mages.”

“Genealogy is not simple arithmetic. I merely presented the optimal match.”

At first, the elders had been skeptical.

And understandably so.

Janet’s parents possessed pitiful magical talent and were notorious gamblers.

Whenever debt collectors came after them, they were infamous for invoking the name of House Wintercrown’s main family to intimidate others.

As a result, fierce debate broke out within the family.

“It would still be preferable to marrying into a family of elemental mages. More important than the distinction between the main and branch families is that the Wintercrowns remain united.”

“I agree with that. But her parents are the problem. Her father, in particular, caused a drunken scene at a gambling hall, boasting that he knew the family head simply because they were distant relatives. If she’s the daughter of someone who constantly disgraces the family…”

“There’s no need to worry about that. I’ve met Miss Janet myself. She’s an exceptionally polite and respectable young woman. In fact, she seemed deeply ashamed of her father’s behavior.”

In the end, the elders accepted the genealogist’s recommendation.

Looking back, it wasn’t a bad outcome for either side.

The Duke and the Young Duke weren’t entirely at ease with having only Aethlyn.

In other words, they wanted the security of having more children.

The elders, meanwhile, wanted a Duchess they could easily influence.

And Janet…

Did that even need explaining?

She had been born into a ruined family.

She hadn’t even been able to attend the Academy.

She was little more than a mage in name.

Becoming the Duchess of House Wintercrown was an opportunity beyond anything she could have dreamed of.

She desperately pursued marriage with the Young Duke…

…and succeeded in claiming the position of the family’s future mistress.

Of course…

That was all in the past now.