The Arranged Suitor Was the Kidnapper

Frozen in place, Ort stammered out his question.

“Wh-Who are you?”

Before receiving an answer, he preemptively unleashed his magic power in an offensive strike.

Yet it was Ort who let out a scream of agony.

“Argh!”

His body was flung aside, crashing unceremoniously onto the ground.

As if crushed under a massive weight, he couldn’t so much as twitch a muscle.

Unable to move a single finger, the approaching footsteps grew louder.

“You may raise your head.”

Only after granted permission could he lift his face from the ground.

Lying prone, he barely managed to tilt his head upward, meeting the gaze of a woman standing before him.

Ort stared dazedly at her brilliant silver hair.

An illusion?

“Disappointed that I’m not the white fox you sought?”

Jolted by her words, Ort regained his senses.

Could this be a trap?

He retraced the series of suspiciously convenient events…

Had those men in the tavern been bribed as well?

“Why… Why me, of all people…”

“Brioschel.”

The mere mention of the village name caused Ort’s lips to stiffen.

“You fled, leaving behind that spell circle.”

“You… You…!”

Only then did Ort recognize Laria – the sorcerer who had interfered with his grand endeavor at the mines.

Realizing she had altered her appearance through some elixir, he spewed curses too vile to utter aloud.

As Laria flicked her finger, Ort let out another agonized cry.

For the oblivious Ort, Laria elucidated the situation herself.

“I dismantled your spell formation. I’ll use it as evidence that you employed forbidden magic to create that circle.”

“Hah!”

Ort scoffed derisively.

For even the most elite sorcerers to unravel a formation of that scale would have been an immense challenge.

“Such arrogant bluster…”

“Do you think I’m bluffing?”

“Ugh!”

An overwhelming force crushed down upon his entire body.

The sensation of his lungs constricting caused Ort to belatedly realize: Laria hadn’t cast any spells, she had merely released her pure magic power.

With such potent magic power, she might indeed be capable of dismantling the formation.

“If brought to trial, you will face execution.”

The word ‘execution’ caused his heart to seize with dread.

Slowly lowering herself to meet his gaze, Laria stated:

“You will likely claim you were merely following Marquis Hashir’s orders.”

“I’m only guilty of obeying commands!!”

Ort’s indignation was genuine.

Tasked with all the dirty, arduous work until losing an arm, only to be discarded like refuse.

“I must… I must have a reason for you seeking me out, do I not?”

Laria calmly observed Ort’s desperate flailing.

He had once seemed so formidable, so fearsome.

‘Pathetic.’

The intruder who had pursued the white fox now squirmed like a mere insect upon the ground.

Like Marquis Hashir, Ort was one who valued his own life above all others.

Laria had nearly perished because of him.

Even now, the sight of towering flames constricted her breathing.

Though part of her longed to subject him to the same torment…

‘I must endure.’

For now, Ort could still prove useful.

“You will serve as my informant.”

Ort froze at her words.

“From now on, you will report all of Marquis Hashir’s movements to me. Do not omit a single detail.”

“…”

“Unable to comply?”

“I can do it! No, I will do it…!”

Though Ort acquiesced, Laria didn’t trust him. A traitorous rat who would undoubtedly turn disloyal the moment the tides shifted against him.

As Laria cast her spell, an intricate formation manifested between them.

“Swear you will not breathe a word of today’s events to anyone.”

Realizing he had no means of escape, Ort reluctantly agreed.

“I swear.”

The spell seeped into Ort’s body.

If he dared to divulge anything, he would forfeit half of his magic power as penance.

Having concluded her business, Laria instructed Ort to meet her again in ten days before abruptly departing.

Simultaneously, the oppressive force pinning him down dissipated.

“Uuurgh!”

Slamming his remaining arm against the ground, Ort raged.

Not only had he lost a limb, but now he was forced to serve as their informant!

Appealing to Marquis Hashir would be futile – he wouldn’t lift a finger to aid him.

Yet Ort had no intention of meekly complying either.

The fox orb remained his sole means of turning the tables.

“If only that damned fox brat hadn’t swallowed my orb…”

His arrows of resentment once more targeted the white fox.

As he seethed in solitary frustration, a sound reached him.

Thump.

Footsteps echoing through the alley, their cadence unsuited to such squalid surroundings.

In an instant, the air seemed to chill, a prickling sensation crawling up his nape.

Eventually, a razor-sharp killing intent pierced him like a blade against his throat.

Unable to bring himself to turn, yet rooted in place, a low, rumbling voice reverberated like thunder.

“What about the fox?”

Ort immediately recognized the presence behind him.

Zenox Krassium.

* * *

After finishing her morning meal, Laria secluded herself in her workroom.

With Zenox’s return to the North, she was researching methods to mass-produce teleportation elixirs.

Proving far more versatile than anticipated, she wished to keep a stockpile on hand, yet the production process was exceptionally intricate.

“So difficult.”

No matter how she adjusted the recipe, the desired results eluded her.

Either the production time shortened or the required ingredients diminished – success with even one aspect would suffice.

‘Should I take a break, perhaps?’

Stretching her stiff limbs, Laria gazed out the window.

Even from the workroom adjoining her bedchamber, the sunflowers Zenox had planted could be seen.

An awkward undercurrent had lingered between them since their visit to Brioschel.

Laria had unknowingly become immersed in their role-play as lovers, momentarily forgetting the truth until that sobering realization resurfaced.

Having deferred finding a solution to separate the fox orb under the pretext of the duel, she now needed to refocus on her true objectives. Rather than researching elixirs, she should first seek clues regarding the fox orb…

“Miss.”

Too deeply engrossed, Laria failed to hear the initial call.

It was only when the knock sounded again that she lifted her head.

“What is it?”

“A visitor has arrived from the Imperial Palace.”

“…The Imperial Palace?”

Abandoning her work, Laria emerged to find an attendant from the Crown Prince awaiting her.

Informed that the Crown Prince had summoned her, Laria inquired with puzzlement:

“The Crown Prince himself?”

Now that she reflected, she hadn’t engaged in private audience with Ishel since reuniting with Zenox.

Having participated in the duel, he likely had many questions, prompting this summons.

‘I had assumed Zenox would be present as well.’

Requesting a brief moment, Laria prepared herself for the Imperial Palace visit.

Her attire had grown increasingly simple with each subsequent visit.

At this rate, she mused, she might eventually attend the palace in everyday garments.

‘When will I next visit the palace…?’

She wished she could use teleportation magic.

Yet spells proved ineffective within the palace grounds due to the barrier obstructing all magic.

She did wonder if her prowess could penetrate the barrier erected by a genius sorcerer of the past, but such curiosity remained idle speculation.

Obediently boarding the carriage, Laria harbored no desire to cause unnecessary disruptions.

“Miss!”

Delighted by her rare official outing, Rodit frolicked excitedly.

With each animated bounce, his fluffy curls dispersed like dandelion seeds on the breeze.

Beside Rodit sat the burly Tigur, their companionship as natural as if he were a knight of the Rohan household.

“Shall I prepare some snacks?”

The trio shared cookies baked by Rodit.

Utterly devoid of tension, it felt more like a picnic excursion than a palace visit.

“Rodit, let me know if you ever open a dessert shop. I’ll invest.”

“I wish to retire with honor as a Rohan knight!”

“But your talent would be too great a waste. You could make a fortune opening a shop in the North…”

Even Tigur chimed in wistfully.

Conversing over cookies, they soon arrived at the palace gates.

Gazing upward, Laria studied the barrier encircling the Imperial Palace.

According to Theodore, it had been erected by a single individual.

A barrier cast centuries ago by a white fox sorcerer that still persisted to this day.

She had wondered if its creator might have been the sorcerer who crafted the fox orb, but had found no conclusive evidence.

Unable to uncover even the sorcerer’s name, she could only let the matter lie.

‘Perhaps the Crown Prince would know?’

The Imperial family might possess knowledge about the barrier’s originator.

Having come this far, she resolved to inquire about it, among other matters.

The instant the carriage entered the palace gates…

Thrum-

The barrier resonated with Laria.

“…!”

Laria’s body jolted violently.

“Miss?”

Alarmed, Rodit instinctively called out to her.

Unable to respond, Laria could only stare blankly ahead.

Though fleeting, the palace barrier had reacted to her innate magic power.

There could be only one explanation.

‘How is this possible…?’

The palace barrier had recognized her as its caster.