Episode 80

Ian paced back and forth in the room, arms crossed, utterly unable to make sense of what was unfolding.

Beric lay sprawled out, half-conscious, while the agitated Lady Mereloff sat bound on the sofa. Her posture was rigid, her expression as resolute as ever.

“What on earth is going on…?”

Romandro crouched down, examining the powder and the small vial sealed with a glass lid. Since Beric had fainted just from the smell, Hana had rushed to the kitchen to fetch the lid in a hurry.

“Madam, it seems we have a lot to discuss.”

“…”

“You’ll need to explain everything from start to finish. Otherwise, this will only get more complicated for all of us.”

“It’s just a mild poison. Nothing serious. Why all this fuss?”

Lady Mereloff lifted her bound wrists, showing the neatly tied ribbons—Hana’s handiwork, tight and precise.

In truth, if it were truly a mild poison as she claimed, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Such substances were common among the reckless noble youth who never missed a party, especially in these remote borderlands where access was easier.

“This is not a mild poison.”

But Hana, crouched beside Romandro, immediately contradicted her.

“There are many types, but mild poisons usually have a yellowish tint or coarse granules. This, however, is white and fine enough to be mistaken for powder. And fainting just from the smell? That’s unheard of.”

Ian glanced at Lady Mereloff, silently urging her to explain. She just glared at Hana with disbelief.

“And who is that girl?”

“As you can see, she’s family.”

At the word “family,” Hana beamed with pride.

Lady Mereloff quickly shut her mouth again. Ian gave Romandro and Hana a subtle look, signaling them to step outside for a moment. The more people present, the harder it would be to speak openly.

“I’ll bring a wet towel for Beric.”

“Oh, uh, then I’ll just…”

The two quickly left Mary’s room. Once the door closed, only Beric’s labored breathing remained. Ian pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her.

“Lady Mereloff, no matter how I think about it, there are too many strange things here.”

“So, that means…”

“Let’s be frank. Let’s go through everything one by one. You seem to know about the Dripper, is that right?”

“…”

“Specifically, its value.”

Lady Mereloff bit her lip tightly and sighed. She was clearly hiding something. Ian studied her face carefully, then took a chance.

“Are you from Lajasan, by any chance?”

“What did you say?”

Lajasan—the place believed to be where the Dripper was first created. She shot Ian a look of utter disbelief. Understandably so, because being from Lajasan meant…

“You’re asking if I’m from the Dera tribe.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you crazy? Do I look like a mole to you?”

“Judging by your knowledge of the Dera’s appearance, it seems you are.”

Lajasan was a mountain opposite Bratz, centered in the middle. Before inventions like the Dripper gained attention, even the locals didn’t know such a mountain existed. Anyone who never left the area would have no way of knowing.

“I… I’m friends with them.”

“With who? The Dera? That can’t be.”

The Dera were reclusive, shunning contact with outsiders. They spent their lives holed up in tunnels, endlessly assembling, breaking, and creating inventions.

A people who lived the same day over and over, yet somehow forged a different future. That was how later generations defined the Dera.

“It’s true. I was born and raised nearby. My mother is a Dryad.”

Ian’s mouth parted slightly at the unexpected confession.

“A Dryad? The Dryad I know?”

“Yes. One who shares her fate with the trees.”

Lady Mereloff spoke calmly, claiming she carried the blood of a tree spirit. Judging by her steady gaze, she wasn’t joking.

“But I didn’t inherit my mother’s fate. Thank goodness. To live a life where you consume the body of the one you love and remain rooted in one place forever—that’s a nightmare.”

Dryads were known as dangerous among the fairies. Perhaps because they had to protect the trees they shared life with, they were infamous for their cruel and capricious nature. The fact that they absorbed their beloved humans alive was proof enough.

“I could never understand my mother. So I cut down the tree myself and ran away. I didn’t even have time to bury my father’s stiffened corpse.”

She suddenly looked out the window, recalling that day. With every chop of the axe, the forest echoed and the ground trembled. Birds took flight, screaming, while beasts roared in response. Perhaps it was her mother’s scream.

“So that’s how you ended up here?”

“Hmm. There’s more to it. To be exact, I was captured by a caravan and sold. Unluckily, the first people I met after leaving the forest were slave traders. I didn’t realize it then, but now I think it was my mother’s final curse. If you don’t mind, could you spare a cigarette?”

She raised her arm and flicked her fingers. Ian, who didn’t smoke, opened the door to find Romandro nearby. The man jumped in surprise and hurried over.

“Sir Romandro, just one cigarette, please.”

“Oh, uh, wait, here it is.”

“Thank you.”

Bang!

The door slammed shut again. Romandro scratched his head, looking sheepish. Of course, Ian had no idea.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, Sir Ian.”

Lady Mereloff exhaled a cloud of smoke with a sigh.

“So, to answer your earlier question, yes. I knew the value of the Dripper. I don’t know what it’s for, but the Dera never make useless things. How did you come to know about it?”

“I picked up bits and pieces here and there.”

“You seem to know a lot for that.”

Ian’s decision to gift the Dripper was partly impulsive, partly intentional. The moment he saw it in the warehouse, his hand reached for it. If it was made by the Dera, it had to be useful.

“Madam, were you the one who leaked the caravan’s arrival schedule across the territory?”

“Why? Is that important?”

“I have a strange feeling you’re helping me.”

“You’re funny, Sir Ian. It’s not something to suspect—it’s something to be grateful for.”

“That depends on your intentions.”

At Ian’s words, she subtly lifted her skirt. From bruised ankles mottled red and blue, to flesh-rotted calves and knees covered in scabs.

Ian grimaced and looked away.

“Want to see higher up?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Lady Mereloff, or rather, my husband the Count, is out of his mind. To raise a woman bought from a slave caravan to the rank of Countess—that says it all.”

That was why they never held a wedding ceremony and kept the marriage secret. Thinking back to Mary’s subtle disdain, everything started to make sense.

“Does the Count know you carry Dryad blood?”

“No. I resemble my father more than my mother.”

Still, the saying “blood will tell” wasn’t without reason. Her beauty, the slow ticking of her biological clock, her longer lifespan and superior physical abilities—all proved she was the child of a Dryad.

“Coming from the bottom, there’s no way I can divorce my husband. But I don’t want to live in a place like this for decades. To think that after cutting down my mother’s tree and fleeing the forest, this is all I’ve got.”

“So?”

Lady Mereloff looked at the sprawled Beric instead of answering. That meant she needed it. Ian’s expression shifted instantly as he grabbed her wrist.

Snap!

“…Is it poison?”

“No. It’s a newly distributed sleeping hallucinogen from the Hawan Kingdom. If taken consistently for about a month, it causes sleep apnea. But I’ve never heard of someone fainting just from the smell.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Both I and Lady Mary took the powder without issue. I expect she’s having pleasant dreams.”

A new drug that induced hallucinations and ate away from the inside. The reason for bringing it from outside was obvious: if the Count’s death raised suspicion, this would help avoid toxicology tests.

“This is insane. Lady Mary was using this too?”

“I don’t know if she actually used it. At first, it seemed intended for Derga. But she must have realized it was better to use it herself than on Derga.”

“Why?”

“Why? Sir Ian, that’s exactly why you exist.”

Ian, the illegitimate child brought in from outside—the result of countless injustices involving Derga. He suddenly recalled Mary’s haggard appearance in the underground secret room. It was clearly withdrawal from drugs.

“Sir Ian, I hate the name Mereloff with a passion. How am I any different from my mother, who was tied to one place her whole life?”

Even her attempt to kill her husband mirrored her mother’s behavior. She wanted to look away, but was this what it meant to be trapped by an inescapable fate?

“I just want the freedom to choose my own destiny.”

“I understand the count has a younger brother.”

Even if Count Mereloff were to die, the next lord of the estate wouldn’t be her—it would be his brother.

“That doesn’t matter. As long as I can decide where I belong.”

Besides, at this rate, she’d likely die before the count did.

Ian watched her quietly, pondering. Though their estates were neighbors, they were rivals, each waiting for the other to slip up so they could expand their influence.

“I have a proposal.”

Countess Mereloff took the initiative, holding out her wrist as if asking him to untie her.

“The enemy of my enemy is my ally. There’s no reason for Sir Ian and me not to join forces. If you help me—more precisely, if you turn a blind eye—I’ll provide as much tribute as I can.”

“As much as you can? How much exactly?”

“That’s hard to say.”

Outside, the sun was already setting. The countess’s curfew had long passed, and now Ian was just weighing whether letting her go was truly in his best interest.

Bang! Crash!

Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside.

Ian slowly opened the door to assess the situation. A stranger was clashing with the servants.

“Are you joking? Why can’t we see the lady?”

“I’m trying to have an important conversation with Sir Ian right now…”

“I have something to say. And since you won’t even pass on my message, step aside.”

“No, you can’t!”

“Step aside! What have you done to the lady?!”

“That’s what I’m trying to say! Ugh, this is frustrating! Whatever’s happened, it was your lady who started it!”

The ruckus was caused by the countess’s own servants. It was well past her curfew, no word had been given, and the household was refusing to let anyone see her—so they’d come all the way inside.

“Hey.”

Ian called out quietly.

“The lady is busy right now. Please wait a little longer.”

But the servant ignored him and charged forward. Then he spotted the countess, her wrists still bound, and his eyes went wild.

“What the hell is this—!”

“Clark! Wait!”

Clark lunged at Ian. The servants tried to stop him, but were too slow. Ian grabbed Clark’s wrist and unleashed his magic.

Zzzzzzt!

Crash!

“Ugh!”

“Clark!”

The countess rushed to the fallen Clark, letting out a sharp cry. She held the trembling man close, worry etched on her face.

Everyone stared in disbelief, and then Beric muttered half-asleep, “What a damn mess… knocked right out…”