A Witch Lives In The Emperor’s Bedroom - Chapter 5

She had to come up with an explanation. But how?

How could she possibly justify the sight of herself, dancing with joy over a corpse with a hole in its face?

“Y-Your Grace, you see…” Bella began, struggling to compose herself. “I… I was just…”

“A witch.”

The Grand Duke’s voice cut her off, his tone eerily calm, his expression strangely composed as he observed her.

At the word witch, Bella froze.

She remembered the vivid red light that had burst from her fingertips, and a cold chill ran through her as she clasped her hands over her mouth. Only witches emitted red light when using magic.

Slowly, she began to back away, every nerve screaming in alarm. Even if she really was a witch, there was no way she could take on the Grand Duke. Her powers had lashed out by pure accident, spurred by the terror of being choked to death.

Her mind raced, imagining the various horrific executions awaiting her: would she be scalded in boiling water, beheaded, or hanged in the town square?

“Isabella White.”

Zenos’s voice was soft, and he stepped toward her, unfazed as he crushed the dead man’s body beneath his boots.

Bella’s sense of danger heightened. There was something unsettling in his gaze—a strange glimmer of excitement.

He stopped just in front of her, his expression a mix of anticipation and exhilaration.

“This…,” he whispered, as his gaze locked onto hers, “is exactly the miracle I was hoping for.”

What?

Bella stared at him, her face twisted in confusion.

Bella was on the verge of asking, What in the world are you talking about?—but then she saw the beaming smile on Zenos’s face, one of pure joy, unlike anything she had ever seen from him.

“A witch!” he practically shouted, his voice brimming with exhilaration. His eyes sparkled as he scanned Bella’s face, looking over her like she was a treasure.

Taken aback, Bella shifted her body, trying to escape his intense gaze. “A w-witch, Your Grace? I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Zenos straightened slowly, his delighted expression unchanging. “When magic manifests with a red light, there’s only one explanation: a witch.”

“Y-You must have been mistaken,” Bella stammered, grasping for any plausible excuse. “It was only… a reflex, a reaction to feeling threatened—”

“Do you know how rare it is for someone to have that kind of magic?” Zenos interrupted, speaking rapidly, his eyes locked onto hers. “Only one in every two people has any magic potential at all—a fifty percent chance. And of those, ninety percent can do no more than dimly light a room or levitate a pencil.”

Bella felt her knees go weak as he continued with cold, calculating logic.

“Of the remaining ten percent who have moderate abilities, only one in a million is born with enough power to kill with magic. And even they would need to undergo thirty years of grueling, life-risking training to reach a fraction of the strength you just displayed.”

Bella’s mind spun, and a terrible dread sank into her stomach.

“So,” he continued, “out of the Empire’s entire population, only about fifty people might possess deadly magical power. And of those fifty, not a single one could kill someone without years of dedicated practice.”

He leaned closer, his smile widening. “Yet here you are, untrained, untested, using your power to kill a man with ease—and with a red glow.”

“…”

“There’s only one possible answer.” Zenos’s voice dropped to a whisper, his smile deepening. “You are a witch.”

Bella’s hands shook, terror gripping her tightly. If he was going to kill her, she at least wanted to hear her sentence first.

“H-How… how will you kill me?”

“What?”

“Will you use a sword?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Or will you hang me?”

Zenos tilted his head, a charming smile playing on his lips. “Why would I kill you?”

Bella’s mind reeled, and her confusion deepened as he added with a smirk, “You are going to become my warhorse.”

“…Excuse me?”

Bella felt as if the world was spinning, but Zenos looked as calm as if he’d already decided everything.

“Step aside for a moment,” he commanded coolly, as if what he’d just said was the most ordinary thing in the world.

At Zenos’s gesture, Bella instinctively stepped back. It was a reflex born from years of strict discipline—she was always quick to obey.

With his back to her, Zenos raised a hand, releasing a cool blue light from his fingertips. The drunkard’s body instantly ignited.

“Ah!” Bella gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. But Zenos remained unaffected, calmly watching as the body burned to ash. When the flames subsided, he ground the remains under his heel, scattering them until no trace was left.

“As far as anyone’s concerned, nothing happened here,” he said, turning to look at Bella.

Numbly, Bella nodded. Her fate could have easily ended in a public execution, branded as a murderous witch, but instead, Zenos had erased all evidence of her crime. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but at least for now, she was safe.

“Your Grace! This is Terron! Where are you?” a strong voice called from nearby.

Zenos glanced over Bella’s disheveled appearance, and Bella shrank back, suddenly self-conscious of her ragged state.

He stepped closer, taking hold of her skirt hem. “This spell will only last about a minute,” he muttered.

Then, with a swift tug, he pulled her closer. Bella stumbled, but Zenos caught her around the waist, steadying her effortlessly.

“Your frailty is a drawback,” he murmured, releasing her waist. Bella barely registered his words, distracted by an unusual sensation around her body. She looked down and gasped.

“W-What…?”

She was now dressed in a beautiful, pale green gown adorned with lace and pearls. On her feet were white shoes, and her once-disheveled hair was neatly braided. Zenos nodded, satisfied, and then raised his hand as he stepped out of the alley.

Within seconds, a young knight approached and bowed. “Your Grace, there’s still no word on the witch,” he reported. “There have been twelve recent births, but none of the infants show any trace of the witch’s mark. We’re considering locating women who are pregnant but not yet full-term—”

The knight paused, his gaze shifting to Bella, who stood behind Zenos.

“Ah,” Zenos interjected smoothly, positioning himself so Bella was partially visible to the knight. “This is Lady Isabella of the White family. She came out for a walk and lost track of time.”

Bella held her skirt with both hands and offered a quick, polite nod. The knight, caught off guard, returned a brief bow.

Out on a nighttime walk without any guards? And happened to run into His Grace, the Grand Duke? The knight’s face briefly betrayed his confusion before he quickly composed himself. The setup was clear: a young woman and man, alone on a quiet night. He didn’t dare question further.

“Return to the command center,” Zenos ordered. “I’ll join you shortly, and we’ll resume the meeting.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the knight replied, immediately turning and leaving without another word.

Bella hesitated, then glanced at Zenos. “Um, Your Grace, won’t this situation… cause misunderstandings?”

“I revealed myself because I don’t mind the misunderstanding,” he replied casually. “If I had, I would have left you hidden at the end of the alley where he wouldn’t have seen you.”

“But… why wouldn’t you mind?”

“Because it’s beneficial for people to see us together.”

“…What?”

“I’m pressed for time and can’t answer every question. Let’s go.”

Zenos took off his dark brown deerskin cloak and draped it over Bella’s head. The magic had faded, leaving her once again in her ragged clothing. With the hood drawn up and the cloak’s belt tied around her waist, her frail form was almost entirely hidden.

Then, without warning, Zenos lifted her into his arms.

“Ah!” Bella yelped as her feet left the ground, clutching at his cloak in surprise.

“No need to draw unnecessary attention,” Zenos muttered with a slight frown.

“W-Why are you carrying me all of a sudden…?” she stammered.

“You’re barefoot,” he replied matter-of-factly. “If you step on something sharp, you’ll get hurt. And with your already frail state, that’s the last thing we need. Besides, my boots wouldn’t fit you.”

Holding her securely, Zenos stepped out of the alley and into the open street. Bella felt like she was in a strange dream—everything was happening too fast, one inexplicable event after another.

Yet she didn’t resist or try to escape from his arms; where would she even go?

Before long, they arrived where Zenos’s carriage was waiting. His butler, Pale, and a few guards stood nearby, clearly taken aback by the unexpected sight of the Grand Duke carrying a cloaked woman.

“Take Lady Isabella to my estate,” Zenos ordered, setting Bella down gently. “I’ll follow later on horseback.”

“To your estate, Your Grace?” Pale repeated, opening the carriage door but unable to fully conceal his surprise. It was uncharacteristic of him to question orders, but the instruction was unusual enough that he couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, ensure her safety,” Zenos instructed, lifting Bella into the carriage as though she were a delicate bundle. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Bella watched his retreating figure through the carriage door, still dazed. As the door closed, the strange sensation of being someone else entirely washed over her. Outside, the cityscape rolled by, the rattle of stones under the wheels seeming louder than ever.

She looked down at her hands, still shaking slightly from everything that had happened. Only hours ago, she had bolted from the basement of the White mansion, desperate to escape—but she never could have imagined it would lead here.

“Red…” she murmured.

That surge of red light from her fingertips when her life was in danger… The memory sent a shiver through her. But it wasn’t just awe; fear had taken root as well. She had no idea what might happen next. And what had Zenos meant when he said she would become his “warhorse”?

Bella took a deep breath, folding her hands together as if they were weapons too powerful to hold casually.

“Still, the Grand Duke is on my side… He didn’t kill me. In fact, he seemed pleased.” She bit her lip, reassuring herself. “This isn’t as bad as it could be.”

After a long ride, the carriage finally arrived at Zenos’s estate. True to his philosophy, the estate was modest, surprisingly small for a grand duke, as he believed a larger space simply offered more places for assassins to hide. It was only a fraction of the size of the White family’s mansion, though Zenos had once mentioned even this was more space than he cared for.

Pale knocked lightly on the carriage door. “I’ll open the door now, my lady,” he said, extending a hand to help her down.

Bella took his hand, stepping carefully onto the ground. In front of the carriage, Pale had placed a pair of soft, fluffy slippers.

“Please, wear these. I apologize for their simplicity—these were the only ones available in your size among the maids’ things,” he explained.

“No need to apologize,” Bella replied as she slipped them on. “I’m just embarrassed I’ve been barefoot all this time.”

The guards at the estate watched her with subtle surprise, exchanging glances as she passed. Zenos had never allowed outsiders into his estate before, least of all a young woman in the dead of night.

“This way, please.” Pale gestured politely, leading Bella into the mansion.

As the door opened with a quiet chime, three sleepy maids emerged from a nearby chamber, blinking groggily.

“This is Lady Isabella White, the youngest daughter of Baron White,” Pale announced. “Prepare a bath for her and offer her a warm tea.”

The maids stared blankly, still half-asleep.

“Did you hear me?” Pale repeated, his voice firm.

At this, they snapped awake. “Yes, Mr. Pale!”

“Ah, but… we don’t have any nightgowns suitable for a noble lady,” one of the maids said nervously, glancing around. Since only Zenos, Pale, and the maids lived here, there were no suitable garments for a guest of Bella’s standing.

“I’ll send someone to acquire one right away,” Pale replied. “In the meantime, see to her bath.”

“Yes, sir,” the maids murmured, bowing to Pale as he left the room.

“This way, please,” one of the maids said, leading Bella to the bath.

When they arrived, Bella couldn’t help but gasp softly in awe. The bath was luxurious and pristine, nothing like what she’d known. Though she’d occasionally dressed up and put on a bright face for appearances at the White household, she had never once enjoyed a comfortable bath.

In her childhood, the orphanage bath had been cramped and basic. And after being adopted, she was relegated to a miserable underground bath that reeked faintly of blood. Looking back, she thought the orphanage bath had been better—it had, at least, been free of the horrifying stench.

“We’ll help you undress,” one of the maids said softly, carefully removing the cloak from Bella’s shoulders.

As they did, Bella sensed them freeze for a moment when her tattered dress came into view. Silently, she allowed them to help her out of it, though she’d nearly forgotten what lay underneath—her body bore far worse marks than her dress.

“Oh…!” one of the maids gasped involuntarily.

Bella’s skin was a patchwork of old scars and fresh wounds, bruises and welts crisscrossed over her arms, shoulders, and back.

“Are… are you all right?” one maid asked, her voice wavering. “You… you’re terribly injured…”

The maid trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“We’ll call a physician right after your bath,” another maid said quickly, her face pale.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Bella replied, shaking her head. “They’re just wounds that heal on their own. I know they will.”

“I beg your pardon?” The maid looked bewildered.

“Please, just the bath,” Bella murmured, averting her gaze as if to signal she was done speaking.