The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows once more.

After organizing the intelligence and resting well on a plush bed, Derek had shaken off yesterday’s exhaustion. His spirit was fully restored.

Maids carefully assisted him with washing and dressing. Clad in dark, luxurious robes, Derek’s stern features gained an extra edge of allure.

Yet no one dared meet his gaze.

Adventurers in the capital often said: in the wild, the brighter the colors, the deadlier the poison.

The servants believed Young Master Derek embodied that truth.

Once dressed, the maids withdrew. A silver serving cart rolled forward.

Lifting the cloche revealed the head chef’s meticulous breakfast: a cup of warmed fresh milk, a plate of black truffle scrambled eggs, a bowl of fruit salad, a slice of black pepper steak, and a delicate croissant.

At the Duke’s manor, Derek usually dined alone—unless Yuri Wudwen personally summoned him, like last night.

For convenience, he had meals brought directly to him.

No pretenses here. Derek picked up his knife and fork and began eating.

The servant who’d pushed the cart stood silently aside, waiting.

Such an extravagant breakfast was impossible to finish alone. When Derek was three-quarters full, he set down his utensils.

The servant stepped forward cautiously. "Young Master, may I take my leave?"

Derek didn’t reply immediately. He’d spent last night analyzing the intelligence and his predicament.

If his spoken words twisted into lies… perhaps silence would work.

He took a notebook from the nearby desk, picked up a pen, and wrote: *"You may go. The breakfast was exquisite."*

Satisfied, he held it up for the servant to see.

…

This servant was new to Derek’s meals. Previously just a janitor scrubbing floors in the manor, serving Derek directly meant a promotion—and better pay.

But he felt no joy. Only dread.

The last servant who delivered Derek’s meals had offended him terribly. Rumor said the man even offered his own daughter to the Duke’s estate to save his life—to be "ruined" by Derek.

Determined to succeed today, the servant had been meticulous, terrified of the slightest mistake.

He’d waited silently while Derek ate. The moment Derek set down his utensils, he’d asked permission to leave—afraid even a second’s delay would be seen as laziness.

Yet Derek hadn’t answered. Instead, he’d walked to his desk, picked up a pen, and written something.

Now, he held up the notebook.

Seeing Derek’s icy expression, the servant’s heart sank.

Just as feared, Derek’s fury erupted on the page—

*"My taste buds are revolted by this filth! Get out before I throw you out!"*

The words struck like blades. Cold sweat drenched the servant’s back. Terror drained his strength. He collapsed to his knees, face pale as paper.

Derek blinked in surprise. *Why is he kneeling?*

"Forgive me, Young Master! Forgive me! I failed you—I failed you!" the man sobbed.

His panic made Derek realize something.

He flipped the notebook around. Sure enough, his words had twisted into something monstrous.

*What the hell?!* Even writing didn’t work?! Was sign language his only option now?!

*The Witch’s Blessing…*

*Like hell it is!*

Derek ripped the notebook to shreds.

The servant flinched at his rage, wailing desperately, "Spare me, Young Master! I was wrong—I was wrong!"

Already frustrated by that yandere girl’s fixation, Derek’s headache worsened at this noise.

*(Leave.)*

That’s what he meant. Resignation filled him.

But a villain couldn’t show weakness. So—

*"Out!"*

One sharp word. Final.

To Derek’s astonishment, the servant scrambled backward on his knees, dragging the cart with him as he rolled out the door.

Watching that morning acrobatics ruined what had been a decent mood.

…

After breakfast, Duke Wudewen would normally send tutors for Derek’s lessons—continental history, kingdom politics, noble etiquette. Tedious world-building stuff.

But Derek, a quick study, had already finished the cultural curriculum.

With his magic awakening recently, the Duke had him focus on meditation to build a foundation.

So for now, he had freedom.

Derek decided to leave the manor and explore Loste, the bustling capital of Doranbar Kingdom.

Memories alone couldn’t replace firsthand observation. He needed to see this world directly.

Besides, wandering might bring unexpected opportunities.

He wanted to go unnoticed—but his status made that impossible.

…

A luxurious brown carriage waited at the manor gates, gold trim gleaming along its edges. Dark curtains bore an embroidered vivid blue iris.

The iris—symbolizing refined beauty—was the Wudewen family crest, representing their elegance and nobility.

Yet in the capital, many avoided it. *Deadly beauty.* No one dared touch it.

Traveling required servants. For safety, steward Xinzel would accompany Derek.

But one more pair of hands was needed—to carry the Young Master’s belongings.

So *she* came.

She approached, utterly bewildered.

Seeing Teresia again after a night’s rest only gave Derek a headache.

In his current state, he wanted no ties to her. He feared making an enemy.

If the Holy Lady truly held the key to breaking his curse…

Derek stayed silent. He didn’t dare speak. He merely glanced at Teresia.

He noticed faint dark circles under her fair eyes. She hadn’t slept well last night.

*Damn. Is she still holding a grudge?*

He’d tried to comfort her.

Teresia *had* barely slept.

After leaving Derek’s room, a maid led her to a guest chamber. The bed was soft, the sheets comfortable—but sleep wouldn’t come.

She couldn’t understand Derek’s behavior.

At first, he seemed cruel. Then… not so cruel. And his face—

*No. He’s very handsome.*

Teresia stole a glance at him now. A faint blush colored her cheeks.

Was he kind to her? Or cruel?

His actions last night were so confusing. Her small head ached from overthinking.

Eventually, she tried Kana’s advice: counting sheep.

*One lamb jumped over… baa.*

*Two lambs jumped over… baa.*

*Three lambs jumped over… baa…*

Somehow, it became—

*One hundred and eight Dereks jumped over… baa.*

*One hundred and nine Dereks jumped over… baa…*

Her mind flooded with him. Sleep vanished completely.

*This Derek is so annoying!*

Yet seeing him again now sparked a flicker of happiness.

It died quickly. Anger flared instead.

Derek’s face was cold. He said nothing. He turned and boarded the carriage as if she didn’t exist.

Teresia stamped her foot lightly and followed.

Young Master and maid settled inside the carriage. Up front, Xinzel cracked the reins.

Majestic horses surged forward, pulling the Duke’s carriage toward Loste’s bustling streets…