Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 172
Everyone in the tent, watching the scene unfold, swallowed their breaths in fear.
Even those who had watched the boy become a Duke after losing his father and grow over the past thirteen years had never seen him punish someone so ruthlessly.
One brave soul dared to lift their gaze, only to gasp in shock. How could he resemble the late Duke so much?
They’d always thought he looked like his father, but that his expression was more refined. Yet now, Izar looked just like how the late Duke had, on the night his woman had escaped. He had mercilessly cut down those servants who helped her, leaving them drenched in blood.
As they watched Charles struggle to leave with the assistance of the other servants, they silently prayed to the divine.
Please, let the Duke find his wife as soon as possible.
And let her be alive and unharmed.
* * *
While their fear of the Duke showed no sign of subsiding, the search party continued to push further south, guided by the tenacious efforts of the Academy members who tracked faint traces of her abilities.
Among them was Albireo, who had been injured during the palace attack. Most assumed he had joined the search due to a strict order from the Imperial Grandson, but…
‘I shouldn’t have spoken to the Duchess that way.’
He had joined the search because he couldn’t shake the memory of his last words to her.
〈If you’re happy now, that’s good… but don’t forget the apology you deserve.〉
At the time, he’d convinced himself that he was merely offering advice, feeling as though she was being wronged.
But in hindsight, he realized it was nothing more than his own jealousy sabotaging a woman trying to find happiness with her husband.
If anything had happened to the Duchess… if she was dead…
‘Damn it, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.’
And now, even Albireo, who had internally sneered at her ‘damned husband’, felt a chill every time he looked at Izar.
Izar wasn’t a reckless maniac who swung his sword indiscriminately, but his dark, intense gaze seemed to carry an otherworldly darkness that made Albireo increasingly uneasy.
But then, during one of their many days of persistent searching, they began to detect the scent of the sea drifting in on the breeze.
As the scent grew stronger, Albireo and the Academy team looked down at a village nestled in a valley and felt a surge of certainty.
“This is where the trail is strongest.”
But black smoke was rising from various points around the village.
Though still at a distance, they could hear the distant toll of alarm bells and the screams of villagers carried on the wind.
A bandit attack?
“…No. Those are monsters!”
Albireo’s face twisted with a scowl as he shouted. Monsters, who rarely appeared during the plentiful season of autumn, were now swarming over the village.
Immediately, the Duke’s party moved with well-honed precision.
Was it a stroke of luck for the village that the Arcturus party, seasoned in monster subjugation, happened to be nearby?
Izar’s eyes flashed with a predatory gleam as the approaching monsters became clearer.
‘Lion monsters.’
The same kind of monsters that had taken Freesia.
Could this be…?
‘Is this his base of operations?’
It might be a trap, but even if it was, he had no choice but to charge toward the source.
Without hesitation, he sliced through the head of an approaching monster, and as more swarmed around him, fresh blood began to seep from his reopened wounds.
“Save us!”
“Aaah!”
Cries for help filled the air, but no voice reached his ears.
‘Freesia.’
He couldn’t hear her voice anywhere.
When he saw yet more bodies, limbs torn and scattered, he could no longer hold back.
“Freesia!”
Is she not here? He desperately hoped she wasn’t. He prayed that was the reason for her silence.
He clung to the hope that she hadn’t been crushed and silenced, like the bodies of other young women they’d passed.
At that moment, Van, who had been running beside Izar, pointed ahead, eyes wide with alarm.
“Milord! Over there…!”
In every monster hunt, there was always a spot where the creatures gathered most densely. They always wreaked havoc where people were concentrated, despite having no need for human flesh.
Van was pointing to a small shrine—the first place the villagers would have sought refuge.
But even as they rushed toward the source, the situation looked bleak.
The people who had sought safety there were likely all dead, their relentless screams evidence of that.
But then, suddenly, the screaming ceased.
Yet, this silence was unlike the usual stillness that came with death. The people inside were still alive, trembling or muttering prayers.
‘What is this?’
As Izar stepped into the shrine’s inner sanctum, a soft petal brushed against his cheek, like a gentle hand.
The scent of blood and wild roses filled the air—the same scent that had lingered around her on the day she’d fallen from Electra’s beatings.
“…Freesia.”
