The royal family's curse.

Lavissel’s smile twisted into something grotesque in the next instant.

Yet, even that ugliness somehow looked like art—strangely enough. So this is what they mean by “handsome enough to get away with it.”

Lavissel was a striking young man with golden hair and blue eyes. Nothing like Agiel at all.

His straight, slightly long hair was loosely tied back and swept to the side. Slim build, yes—but you could tell from the solid frame that he wasn’t frail. Not at all.

To think a single smirk could ruin all that. This guy’s malice was beyond measuring.

“Fufu… didn’t expect it to go this far, huh~”

Lavissel lounged on the sofa, slouching, legs crossed, laughing like it was all a grand joke.

“Shall we keep the rumors going like this?”

“Originally, the King must’ve intended it, don’t you think? The Queen should’ve consulted him beforehand, before spreading rumors about another family. If he didn’t stop it, it’s the same as deliberately spreading them, isn’t it?”

I say it coolly, and Lavissel grins—really, genuinely happy, like it’s all a grand joke.

“Hey, Elen. Want to be my daughter?”

Lavissel drops this bomb out of nowhere, and both of us—parent and child—freeze up.

“Your Majesty! I clearly stated I’d limit contact with my family!!”

“Eh~? But such a smart kid, I’ve never seen her kind! I just… really want her~”

“Sorry, no. My Papa is only my Papa!”

Still held in his arms, I bury my face into my father’s neck, clinging tight. He lets out a choked, emotional laugh.

“Elen!!”

The sight of my father fawning over me like a doting parent—squeezing, cooing, rubbing my head—makes Lavissel sigh dramatically.

“Ah, so this is what a hero really looks like. Poor boys… they must be suffering.”

“I couldn’t care less.”

I can’t help but smirk at my father’s flat, emotionless reply—unbothered by anyone’s disappointment.

“Ah well. Let’s at least make the introduction.”

“No, really, I’m fine.”

“Someone! Bring my sons here.”

Lavissel’s words were met with a crisp “Yes, Your Highness” from the guard waiting in the next room.

“Elen, you’ll probably like him. My own son—clever, good-looking, quite the charmer. Already a favorite among the noble ladies.”

“Love him for his family, looks, money, and power, I assume?”

As I tilt my head with a lazy shrug, Lavissel bursts into laughter, barely holding it in.

“That’s right. Their parents are after those things, sure. But the girls? They’re different. They genuinely admire my sons.”

"Too popular for me, then! Papa, let's go back!"

"Right you are."

"...Lovell, just what *is* your daughter, anyway?"

Every word he spoke came back at him, and Ravisel couldn’t help but sigh.

"Your Majesty couldn’t possibly beat my daughter. Not even I, her own parent, could."

Ravisel nearly laughed it off as a joke—but the words stuck. They *fit*.

Ever since earlier, Lovell’s daughter had shown flashes of a mind far beyond her years.

Blood of the spirits, and that sharp tongue to boot—she’d be invaluable to any nation.

If word got out that Lovell’s daughter carried spirit blood, the whole world would be after her.

So before that happened… I *had* to have her.

And yet, despite meticulously arranging meetings with my sons—this whole charade—I keep getting blindsided by developments I never saw coming.

"Elen, I hope my sons meet your standards."

"Standards? Well... you and Mama have set the bar so high, I’m not sure anyone could measure up. I mean, we’re from the royal family—"

I was about to say something important, but just then, a guard interrupted with news: the princes had arrived.

I fell silent. Should’ve said it before they were summoned. Regret hit me like a slap.

"Ah, come in."

"Father, may I enter?"

"Apologies."

They snapped a crisp bow and stepped inside, eyes widening when they saw us.

"Upper is Gadiel, lower is Van. You two—this is the hero Lovell and his daughter, Elen."

Lavissel introduced them, and the two princes mirrored each other perfectly in their bow.

I’d already seen them before—at Sauvel’s wedding reception—so their faces weren’t unfamiliar.

But unlike last time, they were both flushed, clearly excited to be face-to-face with the hero.

Father exhaled heavily, set me down, and gave a formal bow. “Lovell Vanclift, at your service,” he introduced himself.

I mirrored him, curtsying gracefully. “I am Elen, his daughter.”

“I’m Gadiel La Tenbaer. It’s an honor to meet you, hero.”

“I’m Rasuel La Tenbaer. Is it… really you? Really the hero!?”

The younger one practically leaned forward, eyes wide, staring at his father like he’d just stepped out of a bedtime story.

“Hey. Watch your manners, Rasuel.”

“Ah… sorry…”

From the way the older brother scolded him, it was clear they got along well.

But I was desperately trying not to grimace, despite the two of them being so adorably close.

They’d inherited Lavisel’s blood thick as ever.

The spirit’s curse was swirling around us like it was about to burst out.

…Elen?

Father noticed my state quickly, crouching down to peer into my face.

Lavisel, misreading the situation entirely, chirped happily.

“Elen, are you blushing?”

I couldn’t even retort with sarcasm. My face was turning paler by the second, and everyone else started tilting their heads.

“Is Elen feeling unwell?”

Gadiel stepped closer, trying to check on me. But he didn’t realize that was a terrible idea.

“Don’t come near me!!”

My rejection startled the royal family members—eyes wide, mouths open.

That’s when my father, who immediately realized I was cursed, tried to pull me away from the prince.

Gadiel, frowning, offered concern—“If you’re feeling unwell, you should sit on the sofa”—and reached out a hand.

My throat made a sharp, whistling sound.

The curse surrounding Gadiel had noticed my presence. It surged toward me, desperate for help, a sudden, violent lunge.

“YAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

At the same instant as my scream, black mist erupted from the king and the princes.

It seemed even the guards standing back could see it—tension rippled through them.

“Your Majesty! The princes!? What is this!?”

“Ghh…!? W-what… is this…?”

The princes couldn’t stand upright anymore—they were already collapsed on the floor. Not moving at all. Probably unconscious.

Lavisel managed to keep her eyes open, but she seemed to be sinking deeper into the mist, her body growing heavier with every passing moment, swaying dangerously even while still seated on the sofa.

The mist spread wider toward me, inching closer, as if drawn by my cries.

From within the fog came the sound of countless silent voices—“Help me! It hurts! Help me!!!”

“Stop it! Stop it!!! Why are you doing this to me!?!”

I screamed, tears streaming, my voice breaking in anguish—my father scoffed in response.

“Told you I didn’t want you to see this!!!”

He grabbed me in an instant, yanked me from the room, and vanished in a blink, reappearing beside Mother.

In the Spirit World’s castle, those watching through the water mirror were in utter panic.

Mother took me from Father’s arms, her hands gentle, brushing my hair.

“It’s okay. It’s alright, Elen. Just rest now. Just sleep a little.”

Mother stroked my hair, and my consciousness drifted away—faint, then gone.

She pressed her palm to my forehead, sighed, “Oh, you’re burning up~,” and started carrying me toward the bedroom.

As she did, she called out to Father, “You’d better go check on the other side—looks like they’re all in a mess.”

“Ori? Is Elen really alright!?”

“She’ll be fine. I guess we were too hasty.”

“Ah… I should’ve known better than to bring her…”

Lovell’s regret hung in the air, but Origin smiled at him.

“You know, darling. It’s fine to tell them about the curse. Those sneaky bastards are probably hearing the screams of the spirit victims right now—no way they won’t notice.”

“…You think they can see it? The curse?”

"It's Elen's fault. The fallen spirit souls who sensed the divine bloodline reached out to her, desperate for help."

Mother stroked my forehead while I slept in her arms, then kissed my forehead.

"Go on now. Bring despair to those sneaky bastards!"

Lovell sighed, watching his wife's cheerful expression.

＊＊＊

The place where we'd just been was chaos.

A doctor had been summoned on the spot, servants and guards rushing around to tend to Raffilia, frantically checking on the unconscious princes.

"What... what was that...?"

Raffilia stared, dazed, trying to make sense of the scene—when Lovell appeared before her.

The moment the guards saw him, their killing intent flared.

"How do you feel, Your Majesty? What are your thoughts on finally hearing the answer you've sought for so long?"

The calm way Lovell replied sent a ripple of tension through everyone nearby.

"That... that scream... it was..."

"That's why I asked you all not to approach our family back then. I knew this would happen."

"...What are you talking about? What *is* that scream? Why is the mist... why is it coming from us...?"

"Oh? You don't realize it yet? How unusual for someone so sharp."

"Lord Lovell!!"

The guard's furious shout cut through the air.

It must have been a shock to Ravisel. Maybe she understood it in her head, but refused to accept it in her heart.

"This is why we can't get near royal blood. That voice—pulling at us like it is, we might go mad."

Lovell twisted his face in pain, and the guards looked utterly lost, glancing toward the king for orders.

"This... this is why... why us?"

"You know, don't you? Ask your ancestors."

The guards’ killing intent flared again at Lovell’s words, but Raffilia stopped them.

"...Are my sons safe?"

"Just grazed. Feverish, maybe, and a bit disoriented when they wake. That’s all. Please take care of yourself."

Lovell vanished, leaving those words behind.

The crowd erupted, but Raffilia waved them quiet.

"Ahh... paying the price for underestimating things..."

Elen’s advice had made it seem so simple—just disliked by the spirits.

But the black mist bursting from their own bodies? That wasn’t some cute little grudge.

"Being hated...?"

Elen’s scream still rings in my ears.

Now, finally, I understand the cost paid by our ancestors—what they’d done to the spirits.

Lavisel tried to stand up to check the records in the royal archive, but her body wobbled unsteadily.

"Please, Your Majesty! Rest now!!"

She muttered a curse at her own body, unable to control it.

Her vision swam—dizzy, nauseous, spinning. That’s it, she thought, before blacking out.