Chapter 12: Help – Part 1

“Leave?”

“You can’t leave just yet. Not until I’ve confirmed that you’re not a threat,” Lorabelle said coldly.

Aurora lowered her head, silent.

To her, the Lorabelle standing before her was already a complete stranger.

The little girl from before was gone.

Lorabelle’s memories had been erased, and her soul would never again be whole.

“I understand… Your Highness, Holy Knight.”

Aurora looked up. Her beautiful eyes shimmered with tears, but her expression remained distant, as if she had already accepted everything.

This is a curse… isn’t it?

This is the tragedy brought about by her presence. It was her existence that had destroyed everything.

Even now, the curse continued to torment Lorabelle.

She couldn’t let this go on.

She couldn’t let her curse harm anyone else.

Even if it meant her own death, she couldn’t afford to be this selfish anymore.

“You…” Lorabelle instinctively reached out, wanting to wipe the tears from Aurora’s face.

But as soon as her hand extended, she quickly drew it back.

“I have a lot to take care of. Go upstairs and stay for the night,” she said.

Then, grabbing the holy sword from the wall, she left the house in a bit of a rush.

Aurora was left alone in the room.

Her head hung low as she pondered something, her hand at her side slowly curling into a fist…

If meeting again would only end like this, she’d rather they had never reunited.

As long as Lorabelle was still living well, that would be enough.

*****

Lorabelle rushed out the door, only to crouch down in front of it in a bit of disarray.

She leaned back against it, burying her face into her knees.

Her ears felt hot.

Her cheeks, barely visible through the strands of hair, were tinged with red.

Why was she feeling like this?

It was just the pitiful look of that fairy.

Just the way she seemed to truly care about her…

Her heart… was pounding wildly, so intensely it felt like it could be heard even through her armor.

Was she sick?

Or had that fairy really placed a curse on her that made her like this?

Every time she thought of that beautiful face, something inside her stirred restlessly.

She had lived for nearly two hundred years and seen countless people—but only with her did she feel this way.

Even when they first met, the feeling wasn’t this intense.

But now, just seeing her cry stirred something deeply familiar in her heart—and immediately after, a powerful unrest.

“Princess Lorabelle, what are you doing?”

An aged voice called out from ahead.

Standing there was an elderly man in a long, tailored black butler’s uniform.

Though his beard had turned white with age, his posture remained upright and sturdy.

Lorabelle immediately recognized the voice—it belonged to her butler.

“It’s nothing,”

She didn’t want anyone to see her in such a disheveled state.

Getting up from the ground, she turned her head away on purpose, making sure the butler couldn’t see her face.

“Prepare the drake carriage. I need to make a trip to the royal capital.”

The butler looked puzzled.

He reached into the pocket of his black coat and pulled out his daily planner.

“Your Highness, I believe there are no official duties scheduled for today.”

In truth, a Holy Knight’s responsibilities were few.

Aside from mandatory attendance at banquets, major extermination missions, royal escorts, or high-priority bounty targets, it was rare for all three Holy Knights to be summoned at once.

“I need to see His Highness, Crown Prince Crohn.”

The town they were in wasn’t far from the royal capital.

Riding in the royal carriage drawn by drakes, it took only a few hours to reach their destination.

The drake carriage came to a halt in front of a resplendent golden palace.

Lorabelle stepped off and walked straight into the castle.

The gate guards merely bowed in greeting and made no attempt to stop her.

Tap. Tap. Tap…

The heavy footsteps of armor echoed down the castle’s long corridor, her stride brisk and urgent.

Lorabelle stopped in front of a door.

Three words were inscribed upon it—Magic Department.

Knock knock.

She knocked twice, but there was no response.

Without hesitation, she turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The room was completely empty, save for an ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Just like before…

Lorabelle let out a sigh, closed the door again, and knocked twice more before calling out, “Misha, it’s me—Lorabelle.

Open up, I need to speak with you urgently.”

She waited, but still there was no reply.

So she added, “I think I’ve been cursed. I need your help.”

Click.

Though it hadn’t been locked earlier, the door suddenly emitted the distinct sound of unlocking.

The door creaked open slowly.

First, a single strand of messy gray hair poked out, followed by a head of unkempt hair, a pair of heavily dark-circled eyes, and finally, a cheek smeared with some unidentified green liquid.

“You said you’re cursed?”

A lethargic voice emerged, accompanied by dull, lifeless blue eyes.

The whole person looked half-dead.

Lorabelle, however, was already used to seeing her like this.

“Yes. I believe it’s a curse cast by a fairy,” Lorabelle replied as she looked at the young woman standing before her.

The girl’s name was Howard Misha.

Though barely in her twenties, she possessed an astounding gift for magic—so much so that she had been appointed as the kingdom’s Court Magician at just twenty-two.

Misha was obsessed with magical research.

She had created many large-scale spells and magical texts for the kingdom.

As a reward, the king had given her a dedicated space in the castle for magical study.

Aside from magic, Misha had another unusual hobby—curse research.

That was the real reason Lorabelle came to her: if it truly was a curse, Misha was the one person who could definitely lift it.

“Come in,” Misha said.

Lorabelle followed her into the room.

Inside, chaos reigned.

Strange, exotic plants were scattered across the floor, and one could even spot the fresh entrails of some animal lying around.

There were countless rosewood cabinets placed haphazardly throughout the room, each crammed with colorful bottles and jars.

If one listened closely, some of them even seemed to be murmuring.

All of this belonged to Misha.

There was a reason she worked alone—no one else could tolerate the mess and creepy atmosphere of her lab.

“Sit here.”

Misha dragged a chair from a corner and placed it in front of Lorabelle.

“Hmmmm…”

She made a strange humming noise as she studied Lorabelle from head to toe.

Lorabelle asked anxiously, “Well? Can you tell what’s wrong?”

“I can tell.”

“I can tell you’re lying to me,” Misha said irritably.

“How can that be possible?!” Lorabelle protested.

“I can clearly feel something’s wrong with me. It has to be a curse.”

Misha didn’t even look at Lorabelle.

She simply stayed at her desk, fiddling with a glowing magic orb.

If it wasn’t a curse, then… could she actually be sick?

The thought made Lorabelle speak up again.

“Maybe I’m… ill or something? Otherwise, why would I—”

“Ugh, enough already!”

Lorabelle was cut off halfway through by Misha’s sharp interruption.

“You’re not cursed,” Misha said, clearly annoyed.

“But you might seriously have something wrong with your brain. Now get out of my research lab!”

A dignified Holy Knight, acting like some lovesick teenage girl, babbling on and on…

Misha had even gotten a little excited at the thought of a curse powerful enough to affect a Holy Knight—what a letdown.