Chapter 37

Deborah von Frenzel, daughter of the Margrave, rose from her bed with a sour expression after being summoned by her maid.

The closed curtains were drawn back, allowing the fresh morning sun to pour into the spacious room.

That sacred light, which warmed the earth and nurtured life, also mercilessly exposed Deborah’s features. Following her usual habit, she quickly averted her eyes from her own reflection in the mirror.

“…I’ll change myself. Get out, now.”

She chased the maid away in a low voice.

The servants seemed perfectly accustomed to Deborah’s attitude; with expressionless bows, they made a hasty exit from the room.

The employees of this mansion treated the lord’s daughter with formal courtesy, but their faces and the fingers that touched her were always cold.

Deborah let out a dismissive snort, sluggishly changed into a dress, and then turned to the mirror with a furrowed brow.

Limp, dry, straw-colored hair and a slovenly, slack physique met her gaze.

Her brown eyes were murky like mud, her rough skin was sickly pale, and the flesh of her chin sagged heavily.

It was her usual appearance as the “Ugly Daughter”—a look that practically screamed a lifestyle of indulgence and a slothful personality.

Deborah clicked her tongue in resentment.

“…Well, it’s not as if I have a choice. I can’t even leave the mansion.”

Whenever she saw this form, the same thought occurred to her.

Just how miserable she was.

The Frenzel territory was a proud land that had repelled the influence of the Demon Race even at the height of their prosperity. Even now, they produced sacred wine while battling the magical beasts and demon insects drawn to the lush nature of the region.

Having dealt with those connected to the demonic for so long, the inhabitants had naturally developed a stronger resistance to magic than people of other lands.

Many local tales remained of vineyard guardians who were immune to the claw-venom of magical beasts and unaffected by the seduction of a Succubus.

The ruling House of Frenzel was particularly resilient, producing many brave and brilliant individuals—yet, as if in reaction to that strength, children like Deborah who possessed no resistance to magic were occasionally born.

These children were known as the “Miasma-Weak”, and as the name implied, they were incredibly susceptible to the miasma emitted by demonic entities.

For instance, during her childhood, Deborah had once been tormented by a high fever for three days and nights just by touching the wing scales of a Demon Moth that had lingered slightly on a grape leaf.

Even in the modern era, where the Demon Race had been wiped out and the presence of magic seemed to have faded significantly, various magical beasts still infested the lands of Frenzel.

Since Deborah was exceptionally weak to the miasma they emitted—which would occasionally drift in on the wind—she was rarely able to go outside.

“Ah, if only Mother were still alive, she surely would have doted on poor, pitiful me.”

Spinning around on her heel to turn away from the mirror, she lamented her fate.

Misery.

Absolute misery.

As those thoughts swirled and her chest grew tight, Deborah plucked a sugar confection from a jar beside her bed and stuffed it into her mouth.

Sweet treats were her emotional stabilizer. They soothed and gently embraced her wretched heart, which had been irritated since the moment she woke up.

Rustling through the jar to pull out several more, Deborah sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

Oh, the misery of it all.

Because she had lost her only understanding supporter—her mother, who would have comforted her—so early on, she was forced to soothe her heart with sweets in this lonely isolation.

Her mother, Elisa, had lost her life during the birth of Deborah’s younger brother, Kevin.

Elisa had been called the Sun of Frenzel; she was a cheerful and lovely woman.

Since losing her, the light in this house had truly faded.

Her father, Jonas—who had apparently been respected as both a brilliant lord and a devoted husband—rarely spoke even in front of his family now. He either hoistered himself up in his room or wandered aimlessly through the territory in the middle of the night.

The younger brother, whom her mother had traded her life to bear, was not Miasma-Weak, but he was sickly and often bedridden, which had warped his personality. As for Deborah’s own body, it looked the way it did because it had accumulated miasma.

The gazes of the commoners directed at the gloomy, unhealthy, and unsound ducal family were cold. Just living in this land caused Deborah an immense amount of suffering.

“Ah, if only I could stay in the Royal Capital forever, how wonderful would that be…”

Wiping the sugar from the corner of her lips, Deborah muttered to herself.

Not long ago, she had traveled to the Royal Capital for the first time to attend the ball for the new King’s coronation.

The buildings were all magnificent, the air held not a trace of miasma, and everything she saw was beautiful.

Especially—

“Prince Lucas… no, I suppose I should call him the King’s Brother now.”

Enraptured, Deborah turned toward a decorative cabinet and gently opened a drawer.

Inside was a portrait of Prince Lucas that had been circulating in the capital. She caressed it repeatedly with deep affection.

Lucas von Ludendorff.

A knight of great valor and the most handsome man in Luden, known for his dalliances with one woman after another.

Deborah had been completely captivated by the rugged masculinity of the man she caught sight of at the ball.

“His dancing was so elegant… and he led his partner with such skill… To think such a gentleman actually exists in this world.”

Speaking of things that actually existed, she had also been stunned by the beauty of the girl serving as his partner.

As expected of the Royal Capital; apparently, such handsome men and beautiful girls could exist there as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

In contrast, Deborah had become so lightheaded during her first visit to the capital and her first ball that she had retreated to her assigned room the moment their dance concluded.

Come to think of it, wasn’t it immediately after that a Marquis was arrested for the grave crime of attempting to assassinate Prince Lucas?

Deborah was ignorant of politics, and more importantly, she wasn’t blessed with local servants who would bother telling her the details of such incidents, so her understanding remained vague at best.

‘Supposedly, they tried to assassinate him with poison? Poor Prince Lucas! But I heard that girl who was with him shielded him or something… Oh, does that mean she ended up being okay?’

She was mostly concerned for Lucas’s well-being, and once she confirmed he was safe, she paid no attention to the rest of the information.

Deborah wondered for a moment if the girl had taken the poison in his stead, but after a bit of thought, she curled the corners of her lips into a spiteful smirk.

It would be better if she had.

To be beautiful, live in the capital, and even serve as a partner to royalty at a ball—that girl was far too blessed.

If she had also been rescued by the man during a crisis, Deborah would surely lose her mind from jealousy.

It would be good for that girl to know at least a little of the world’s harshness.

“Serves her right. God must have balanced the scales on my behalf.”

Deborah feigned indifference with that remark and moved closer to the window.

Through the large panes, she could see the vast vineyards that were the pride of the Frenzel territory.

Gentle hills, a piercingly clear blue sky, and lush forests.

This land possessed all the beauty of nature.

And at the same time, its ugliness.

“…I hope the wind doesn’t blow from that hideous marsh today.”

Within the lush forests lay a marsh, and further beyond—past the rising slope—were jagged cliffs and the sea.

The marsh was completely contaminated and murky with miasma, and upon the edge of the cliffs stood the prison known as “Hell on Earth.”

Both were entities that cast a dark shadow over the hearts of the Frenzel inhabitants.

However, for the Miasma-Weak Deborah, the marsh was the bigger problem.

Demonic insects swarmed and bred there, filling the area with the stench of rot and miasma.

Suddenly, Deborah’s lips twisted in a self-mocking grimace.

She remembered that the servants, associating her with that hideous and ugly marsh, had taken to calling it “Marsh Deborah.”

“…How cruel. It’s too much. I wish they’d all just disappear.”

She was miserable.

Truly, truly miserable.

God was far too lazy in His duties.

If that Being were truly compassionate, He would punish every woman who was celebrated merely for being beautiful and arrange a connection between poor Deborah and Lucas. That is what she would do in His place.

For a while, Deborah indulged in fantasies of tormenting beautiful girls or being wooed by Lucas, but she eventually let out a sigh.

In the end, this was a frontier land.

Even by some mistake, there would never be an opportunity for her to exchange words with the King’s Brother, Lucas.

Or so she had thought—

“…?”

Suddenly, Deborah blinked as she noticed a shabby carriage come to a halt outside the window she was looking through.

It was rare for an unfamiliar carriage to visit this mansion.

‘Though the finish looks poor… the wheels sound smooth, and the horses are quite magnificent… Are they making it look impoverished on purpose?’

Curiosity took hold of her, and she pressed her forehead against the window to inspect it.

After a small, plain maid stepped smoothly out of the carriage—an event Deborah couldn’t have cared less about—the person who descended next nearly made her cry out.

“…!”

With movements that looked perfectly natural, that person took the hand of a beautiful blonde girl and helped her down from the carriage.

Thick black hair, a ruggedly handsome face, and a supple, tall frame.

Though for some reason he was disguised in the simple clothes of a merchant—it was the most handsome man in Luden, Lucas.