A Witch Lives In The Emperor’s Bedroom - Chapter 3

As soon as Bella left the drawing room, she hurried down the hallway toward the basement.

Most of the maids were occupied in the drawing room, and those who did pass by took no notice of her, as usual. When Bella finally reached the basement entrance, she let out a low sigh.

“Oh no…”

The door to the basement was locked tightly with a sturdy padlock. Whenever guests visited the estate, the servants made sure to lock the door leading downstairs, fearing that a curious guest might wander down the stairs.

“What should I do…?” Bella muttered, glancing nervously around. If she didn’t return soon, her absence would raise suspicion, but she also couldn’t expose her bare feet in front of the maids.

Just then, she heard a quiet voice.

“Lady Isabella.”

Startled, Bella whipped around at the low whisper in her ear.

It was Zenos Ferdinand.

Standing tall and imposing, he looked down at her with a practiced smile—one that didn’t reach his cold, calculating eyes.

“You appear to be in a difficult situation,” he said.

“….”

“If you allow it, I’d be glad to assist you.”

“There’s… there’s no difficulty, Your Grace. The honor of your concern is more than enough,” Bella replied, bowing quickly. She made to leave, but Zenos stepped back, blocking her path.

“Perhaps you could direct me to a nearby empty room. My attendant will return with your shoes shortly.”

“S-Shoes?” she stammered, stunned.

“That is the nature of your predicament, isn’t it?” Zenos asked directly.

Bella hesitated but realized she had no other options. “…This way.”

She led Zenos to a hidden panel beside the door to the basement stairs and pressed against the wall. It quietly swung open to reveal a small, hidden pantry. No one but the family knew of this space, as its existence was well-concealed.

Inside, crates filled with bland, dry grain bars were stacked on top of each other. These tasteless, barely edible bars were given to Bella whenever the White family deemed she’d made a “mistake”—their punishment for her supposed wrongdoings.

Seeing those crates brought back the dry, sawdust-like taste, making Bella wince. She quickly ducked inside the cramped space, while Zenos raised a hand, signaling down the hallway. His butler, Pale, who had arrived at the far end of the corridor, walked briskly over and handed Zenos a pair of beige shoes—simple, unadorned, and matching her dress perfectly.

After signaling Pale to keep watch, Zenos stepped inside the pantry with Bella. Pale closed the door, plunging them into complete darkness, as there was no lighting in the space.

Suddenly, a faint, cool glow emanated from Zenos’s index finger. With a flick, the small room brightened as if softly illuminated by candlelight.

Bella looked around in awe, her face lighting up with amazement. “You know how to use magic?”

“You speak as if it’s your first time seeing a mage,” Zenos replied, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Caught off guard, Bella fumbled, quickly averting her gaze from his.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

“Ma… magic is always fascinating to see, Your Grace,” Bella stammered. “For women, there aren’t many opportunities to learn it properly, which is why I reacted as I did. I apologize if I was out of line.”

Her words sounded like an excuse, but Zenos didn’t press further. He was curious, but time was short.

“Excuse me,” he said, lowering himself to one knee before Bella and lifting one of the shoes.

“Y-Your Grace…” Bella was taken aback, but Zenos remained composed and steady.

“There isn’t much time, Lady Isabella.”

She felt embarrassed to expose her bare, bruised feet before him, but with no other choice, she gingerly slid her feet into the shoes he held. To her relief, they fit perfectly.

“It seems the size is just right,” Zenos remarked, looking up at her. His deep, calm voice filled the small, dim space, intensifying her nervousness. Apart from Ethan, she had never been so close to a man before.

Perhaps noticing her tension, Zenos looked away as he rose to his feet.

“Then we should be on our way,” he said.

As he moved to open the door, Bella’s heart raced. She had to thank him properly.

“Y-Your Grace,” she called out, stopping him.

Zenos turned back to her.

Placing a hand over her chest to steady herself, Bella prepared to speak, but a sharp pain shot through her chest where the brooch had pricked her, stopping her short.

Zenos’s gaze narrowed slightly, noticing her discomfort.

“I will never forget your kindness, Your Grace. Thank you,” she managed to say, concealing the pain.

Zenos considered letting it go, but, uncharacteristically, he couldn’t shake his curiosity about the barefoot woman before him.

“Are you hurt?”

“Pardon?” Bella replied, startled.

“You seem to be in discomfort.”

“Oh, that’s… it’s the brooch. I pricked myself with it. It’s my own carelessness,” she admitted.

“Did you put it on yourself, without assistance from the maids?”

“Y-Yes. I overslept, so I didn’t have enough time to ask the maids for help,” she explained, embarrassed.

“And where is the brooch now?” he asked.

Bella fell silent, her words catching as she met Zenos’s piercing gaze. She had heard rumors that knights from neighboring countries feared him—and now, looking into those deep, penetrating eyes, she understood why.

“Your Grace, it’s time to return,” came the butler’s voice from outside the door, breaking the tension that had enveloped them.

Zenos opened the door, stepping out first, and Bella followed.

“Please go in ahead. I’ll join you shortly,” he said.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Bella replied, bowing.

Bella bowed slightly to Zenos and made her way back to the drawing room.

When the maid opened the door and Bella entered, Rosalie, who had been smiling brightly, expecting the Grand Duke’s return, immediately scowled.

“What do you think you’re doing? Where have you been? Don’t you understand that there can’t be a single flaw in today’s event?” Rosalie hissed, lowering her voice as she glanced toward the door, hoping Zenos wouldn’t appear just yet.

Grimacing, Bella walked over to the table and reluctantly took her seat.

“Where did you go?” Martha asked, her gaze scrutinizing.

Bella repeated the excuse she had prepared before re-entering. “I was so nervous that I thought I might start hiccuping, so I went out for a moment to calm myself.”

“You might as well have said you were sick,” Rosalie muttered under her breath, glaring at Bella with undisguised disdain.

Bella stayed silent, enduring the harsh stares.

“Calm yourself, Rosalie. His Grace will return any moment,” Martha reminded her, and Rosalie clenched her jaw, forcing herself to settle down.

“When this is over, you’ll go without food for at least three days,” Rosalie hissed. “And you won’t even get those grain bars.”

Just then, the drawing-room door opened, and Zenos entered. The family members rose, but Zenos raised a hand, signaling them to stay seated as he took his place.

“My apologies. A message was expected, and I needed to confirm it.”

“No need to apologize, Your Grace. We’re delighted that you were able to join us despite your busy schedule,” Rosalie replied with a blush, flashing him a beaming smile. Zenos returned her smile with a polite, practiced expression.

Once Zenos was seated, everyone followed suit. Bella kept her gaze fixed on her teacup, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“You must be incredibly busy with affairs of state. Soon you’ll have no time for hunting, I imagine,” Ethan joked, shaking his head.

Zenos responded in kind. “Indeed. It’s unfortunate that there may be no opportunity to hunt together for a while.”

“And today is the Day of the Witch’s Birth as well. I imagine you’re particularly vigilant,” Martha added.

Yes, today, Bella thought, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly controlled her expression. This was the year that marked the centennial of the Witch’s Birth in the Latus Empire. Today, specifically, was the 33rd day of spring—the prophesied day of the witch’s arrival.

“Oh, how frightening! The Day of the Witch’s Birth, which I’ve only heard of in stories, is really here,” Rosalie said, widening her eyes and shivering theatrically. Martha had trained her daughter well in how to perform such gestures.

“Knights have already taken steps to isolate and monitor all expectant mothers nearing delivery,” Zenos reassured, his tone gentle. “If anything unusual is detected, I’ll be informed immediately. There’s no need for concern.”

Rosalie nodded with a dreamy look in her eyes, captivated by his words.

“For you to be here despite all the preparations required for such an event—it’s a joy I can hardly express,” Rosalie murmured shyly.

Zenos shook his head with a warm smile. “No, it’s my pleasure entirely. I’m the one who is honored to be here.”

Rosalie blushed deeply, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“I wonder what kind of demon might be born this time,” Ethan remarked with a glint of curiosity. “Didn’t the last witch, a hundred years ago, kill three knights at birth?”

“What chills me is how all witches are fated to kill their mothers the moment they’re born,” Martha added, shaking her head with closed eyes. “How could a newborn do such a thing?”

“Still,” Ethan continued, leaning slightly toward Zenos, “aren’t you at least a bit curious? They say a witch’s skin glows red at birth. I’d like to see that—or even to know how she tears her way out of her mother’s body. Purely for intellectual curiosity, of course.”

Ethan’s tone held a dangerous hint of intrigue, flirting with the boundaries of propriety.

If Bella had dared to speak as Ethan had, she would have been whipped until she was on the brink of collapse. But Martha and Rosalie dismissed Ethan’s remarks as mere “mischievous talk.”

Since the passing of Baron Derek White, Ethan was the only man in the family, and they believed he needed to project a sense of “manliness”—which, to them, included a touch of cruelty and violence.

“What do you think, Your Grace?” Ethan asked Zenos.

“Well,” Zenos replied, his tone neutral, “my only thought is that the witch must be dealt with before she can harm the nation.”

“They say that if a witch isn’t subdued on the day of her birth, she won’t stop until she’s killed a thousand people. Is that true?” Martha asked.

Zenos nodded with a faint smile. “Yes. The imperial records document it as such.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Rosalie gasped, covering her mouth in an expression of shock.

“By tomorrow morning, you’ll hear that the witch has been taken care of, so you needn’t worry, Rose,” Zenos assured her kindly, which made Rosalie feel as though she’d won the world.

“Your presence here is such a comfort, Your Grace,” she replied with a blush.

“Now,” Martha interjected, “perhaps we should end this talk of witches and focus on the marriage of this lovely young couple. It would be a shame to let the tea table grow so heavy with darker matters.”

Zenos nodded in agreement. As the conversation turned to lighter topics, Bella remained silent, quietly sipping her tea. No one in the White family paid her any mind, though Zenos occasionally cast discreet glances in her direction when no one else noticed.

The time soon came for the Grand Duke to depart. Pale, the butler, approached and informed Zenos with polite formality. Rising from his seat, Zenos excused himself, and everyone left the drawing room to see him off.

“We shall see you at the upcoming imperial ball,” Zenos said as he prepared to depart. “The invitation should arrive within the next ten days.”

Martha leaned in slightly, her voice hopeful. “You mentioned that you would announce Rosalie’s engagement at the ball, if I recall correctly?”

An imperial ball was the perfect stage for a marriage announcement, and most prestigious families chose such grand occasions to declare their unions publicly. And this wasn’t just any ball—it was the Imperial Ball, an event sure to stir envy among the nobility.

“Yes, it will be announced at that event,” Zenos confirmed calmly.

Rosalie struggled to contain her excitement, already feeling a rush of anticipation. Duchess! She shivered with delight at the thought of such an elegant title before her name.

“That’s wonderful. Rosalie will prepare diligently to ensure she does Your Grace proud. She’ll be the very picture of a duchess, adorned in blue diamonds,” Martha added.

“Proud?” Zenos said, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. “The joy of having Rosalie as my future duchess is mine alone.”

“Oh, Your Grace…” Rosalie trailed off, exchanging a loving gaze with Zenos.

Martha and even Ethan watched the exchange with pleased smiles, but Bella frowned slightly. To her, Zenos’s gaze held no true affection. His warmth seemed only a veneer, covering a detached, weary look, as if he were merely attending to another state matter.

Just then, as though he could read her thoughts, Zenos shifted his gaze toward her. Bella quickly looked away.

“Rosalie, accompany His Grace to the front entrance,” Martha instructed.

Rosalie lit up with joy and eagerly walked alongside Zenos and his attendants across the courtyard.

Bella, however, felt a strange tension in Zenos’s final glance and chose not to watch him as he left.