Arknights, but the sickly pretty girl starts

Eh?

Noya looked carefully and suddenly found that on the side of the windowsill, an old man's hand had appeared. The old man was holding the windowsill with his hand and gazing at this side with gloomy eyes. This was the memory of Duke Caister. In other words... She knew that the old Duke Caister was watching at this time, and she might even have seen him...

Oh my god...the relationships among you are so messy that it's outrageous.

Noah felt he couldn't stay in this place any longer and planned to go deeper. If the old Duke of Castor already knew that his wife and her brother, Emperor Victoria, had committed adultery, he would probably not let it go. However, just as Noah was still questioning how to play out the political drama next, his memory skipped a beat...

This situation is actually not uncommon. After all, not everyone has hyperthymesia, and they don't have the habit of maintaining their own memory, so a lot of unimportant information will be ignored. If it is a boring day, it will not be remembered. Many people can't even remember what they had for dinner.

And when Noah once again felt the flow of time slow down, the old Duke of Caster had already been buried with great ceremony.

The Duke of Caster, dressed in black, looked coldly at the old Duke of Caster in the transparent coffin, without a trace of emotion in his eyes. She turned her head and looked at her brother who was presiding over the funeral. Compared with the look she gave her husband, her eyes at this moment were so complicated that one could write a special analysis question for her.

But it was obvious... her brother was deliberately avoiding her sight.

Although she got what she wanted by force, her brother was not as abnormal as her. It can even be said that although he did not succeed in stopping his sister, he handled the situation quite appropriately.

He kept silent about everything, and old Duke Caster didn't seem to say anything to the outside world. If the news really got out, the Faceless Man would definitely know it better than her.

So...what happened...

Everything must have started with the death of the old Duke of Caster.

Chapter 42: Fairy

For the future Duke of Caister, now the Duchess of Caister, it was indeed a disaster.

When she raised her head, she caught a glimpse of the old man behind the window, who was watching the ugly situation between her and her brother with his vulture-like eyes. Although she did not become cowardly at the time, and even used more force in a provocative manner, after calming down, not only did her brother flee in panic, but she also realized what she had done.

Infidelity... This was not a big deal in Victoria. In fact, most aristocratic ladies had a record of so-called infidelity, and there were even quite a few who openly kept male lovers. As long as it was not made public, there would be no problem.

But this is what is called "it weighs only a few ounces without being weighed, but it weighs several tons when it is weighed."

If the Duke intends to start from this aspect, both he and his brother will end up in disgrace.

She was even prepared to wage a war of public opinion. During this period, she could even dream of those gloomy eyes, and she would often wake up from nightmares. She didn't worry about the old man's revenge. He didn't have much time left, and the doctor had confirmed this. He was confused for much longer than he was clear-headed. He didn't even need to do anything herself, he would die sooner or later.

Do you want to poison me?

No...it's not easy to leave any evidence, and this old guy's food has to go through layers of inspection, so the risk of poisoning is too great.

So...what about assassinating this old guy directly and secretly?

No, this old guy is almost dead. Even if his political enemies dislike him, they won't rush into it. It would be too obvious to take action now.

The long-term worry made her lose her appetite and look haggard, with a pale face and even a little blue lips. She tried her best to take everything under the Duke of Caister. She had to prepare herself so that when the old man turned against her, she would be able to deal with it well and must not fail.

If my brother were still here...

She couldn't help but think so, but she knew that her brother would not protect her this time... On the contrary, her brother should avoid her as much as possible and even dare not meet with her privately.

Most of what I did at the time was done on impulse. When people are hot-blooded, they really don't consider the consequences.

Now she was suffering from this bitter fruit. She bit her thumbnail. Her worry was because Duke Caister did not make any move. If the other party really took action, she would just have to counter his moves. But the other party did not react at all, which was the most terrifying thing.

The rain still carried the sweet, fishy scent of wisteria, but the pavilion was silent. Day after day, she stared at the half-open window—the old Duke of Caster's chambers were like the eyes of a dying beast, its turbid pupils gleaming with decay. The tinkle of knives and forks as servants brought in meals, the rustle of skirts scraping against the floorboards outside the hallway, even the sway of the curtains in the wind—all made her jump and clutch her sleeves.

During her most vulnerable period, the man who made her willing to give up everything... never set foot in the Duke's Mansion again.

She has to bear all of this alone.

One day, because of her mental instability, she accidentally broke the teacup, and the black tea spilled on the expensive carpet. The scattered pieces of the teacup made her a little dazed, but the maid beside her came over calmly and knelt down to pick up the broken porcelain pieces. This should have been just a small matter, and she wanted to pretend to be calm, but after the maid finished cleaning up, she turned around and asked.

"Ma'am, is your hand cut? It's bleeding."

She lowered her head and saw that her finger seemed to have been cut by the porcelain shard, but she was unaware of it. She covered her finger and waved her hand anxiously for the maid to leave, but the maid did not leave immediately. Instead, she kept staring at her wound. She was a little annoyed and explained again.

"I'm fine, just a small wound."

"Ma'am, sometimes minor wounds can develop into chronic diseases. Your hands are so beautiful, leaving scars would be disastrous. Can I take care of it?"

"..." These were obviously just normal words of concern, but at that time she felt as if her soft spot had been touched. After being stunned, she became angry. She stretched out her hand and strangled the maid's neck tightly, so hard that the maid could not let go no matter how she struggled. She was a little hysterical, and she probably didn't even want to accept her horrible look.

Fortunately, she did not kill her in the end and eventually let go of her hand. The maid fled the scene tumbling and crawling, and it is said that she resigned soon after.

But she no longer had the mind to think about these things. If this continued, she would go crazy.

She must get rid of the old duke first. Only the dead can keep secrets, so she must act in advance!

That night she personally cut up all the parchments containing her correspondence with her brother. However, the curled up ashes in the brazier grew into crows in her dreams, cawing beside her ears, as if mocking her desperation.

Her brother's estrangement came even earlier than the curse. At a palace banquet, when he met her, he didn't even look at her, as if he were a stranger, with no intention of chatting with her. She didn't see a trace of hesitation in his eyes, and this natural estrangement was even more chilling.

She finally needed to take medicine. She had to take sleeping pills to maintain her sleep. She felt that everything that happened to her seemed to be because she married the old Duke of Caster. She transferred this hatred to the dying old man.

Finally... on that day, she went to visit the Duke of Caister as originally planned, but this time, she had a dagger hidden in her sleeve.

The old man lay on the bed, the smell of medicine seeping from the curtains clotted in the air like mold. The old Duke of Caster's back nearly pierced through his silk pajamas—no muscle definition was visible there, only two shoulder blades protruding like tombstones on a dry riverbed. The dark brown stain on the side of his neck spread to the pillow, blending with the remnants of the medicine that had seeped into the folds of the fabric. Even the movement of his Adam's apple with each breath felt like a sticky, dying struggle.

One of his pillows had been pulled away, causing his head to tilt back at an unnatural angle, revealing a web of purplish veins at his temple. A withered hand dangled over the edge of the bed, its knuckles twisted and deformed from constant gripping of the rails. Even the strength to hold the sheets had vanished, and only the blood clotted between its nails gave evidence of the damage it had done.

The bed was piled with goose down cushions, but they couldn't support his slumped waist and abdomen. His legs were eerily straight beneath the covers, as if death had already eaten away at his bones. As the hollow sound of blood foaming in his chest echoed, even the loose skin around his collarbone trembled—the pale skin wrapped around the protruding bone like a piece of rain-soaked paper barely clinging to a window frame.

It was hard to imagine that such an ugly scene could happen to a powerful earl. The faint smell of death in the air had already tightened around his neck. Only expensive medicinal herbs could keep him alive.

In fact, according to her, what she wanted was for the old Duke of Caster to remain in this state and suffer.

But as long as he is still alive, the other party may reveal his secret, which is something she cannot accept at all. She has made up her mind that no matter what happens in the future, what she has to do now is to make the dead keep the secret forever and bury the secret in the grave in a physical sense.

Her hand gripped the handle of the dagger tightly as she gradually approached the old man, who no longer looked like a human being... more like a skeleton covered in human skin.

Beside the old man's bed was a book. She knew that book... after all, it was quite famous. "The Beauty and Ugliness of the World," a legendary book published fifteen years ago in Victoria, simply records the author's understanding of aesthetics, and records a wealth of knowledge and history related to literature, art, and music. Covering ancient and modern times, the book is easy to understand and has been hailed as "the art encyclopedia of this generation." However, it is said that the author is just the director of a small theater troupe.

There was nothing strange about the book appearing here, but the strange thing was that after seeing the book, she suddenly felt a little dazed... Then, she heard a cat's meow.

Why are there cats here?

She looked up and found that on the windowsill of the window that overlooked the garden, there was a strange cloud beast with two tails. Its eyes were raised and staring at her.

"…What on earth are you?"

She trembled and began to panic. She actually saw the disdain that only humans could have in a cat.

The dagger she was holding began to tremble, and then she heard a voice.

"Don't scare her, my friend, it's a beautiful night, isn't it?" The voice did not come from the cat, because soon the owner of the voice appeared in the room. It was a girl in a white robe with a white horn on her head. She just appeared there and picked up the cat from the windowsill.

She looked very young, but her eyes were filled with compassion as if they had seen countless years.

Who is that?

No, she seemed to know who she was... because she had read similar accounts.

"Should I call you the fairy who grants every wish, or the great and almighty Protector of the Country?"

Unicorn... In the history books, the legendary immortal, the Protector of the Country, the fairy who would grant any wish, appeared and disappeared from the pages of Victorian history several times, and it had always been like this... This unicorn hidden at the back of history would actually appear here, right in front of him.

“Those are all me, and none of them are me,” she responded. “I came here only for you, or rather, for this poor man.”

"...Poor fellow?" She frowned. "This fellow's crimes are too numerous to list. Do you think he's a clean person? I won't hesitate to kill him now!"

"I never said he was innocent." The fairy narrowed her eyes, revealing a sad expression. "Of course he is guilty, but that doesn't conflict with his pity. There must be something hateful about a pitiful person. That's what you say, right?"

"...You've been keeping him alive until now? The doctor said he should have died a long time ago."

"You can say that, but he did it for you." The fairy nodded. "He has been waiting for you, waiting for you to execute him."

"...What does that mean?" She was finally confused. She saw the legendary fairy, the legendary Protector of the Country, and then the Protector of the Country told her that the old Duke had actually been waiting for him to assassinate her?

what is happening?

"He found me in history, seeking an answer from me," the fairy explained. She looked at the old man, as if she had returned to that day. "Others would come to me simply to seek blessings or wealth. In most cases, I would just leave. But he was different. He came to me to ask... how Victoria should exist."

"...What kind of a question is this? Victoria has been around for so many years!"

"That's right, but do you really think Victoria's existence is justified?" The fairy smiled with some disdain. "Every time Victoria is in crisis, I meet similar people who ask me the same question."

"How Victoria should exist. Or, how Victoria should continue. I've experienced this kind of people and this kind of thing hundreds of times. I facilitated the merger of Tara and Victoria to deal with Nightmare. During that time, my people were still serving in Victoria. After that, they rejected the power of the unicorn, broke off their horns, and headed to Casimir."

The fairy smiled and casually uttered terrifying words that could stir up waves in the world of history.

"I also facilitated the start of the Four Emperors' War, securing Victoria's position as the most powerful nation on Terra..."

This fairy, who wanders in Victorian history, narrates her own story in this way.

"And now I'm being asked that question again, which is quite strange, because every time I'm asked this question it's always before the Victorian revolution."

"You...why on earth did you appear before me? Shouldn't you be a cloud of fog, so no one can find you?"

"I only appear when I want someone to find me." The fairy shook her head. "Okay, this is all meaningless. Let's get to the point."

"What is the topic...?"

"Elizabeth Victoria Castle." This time, it wasn't the fairy who spoke, but the dying old man. He straightened up, the deathly aura that had clung to his body suddenly vanishing. Though still a skeleton covered in skin, his eyes shone brighter than ever. "My wife, who is not worthy of the name, you have finally arrived."

The old man finally regained some of his former Grand Duke appearance. He smiled, and his skin was stretched, looking extremely creepy. Elizabeth knew that this was a last gasp of energy, but she was still panicked. She gripped the dagger tightly, as if she was about to stab the old man.

But... she couldn't do it.

Her feet seemed to be rooted to the ground, making it impossible for her to move even a little bit.

Chapter 43: Secret

For an immortal, a ghost wandering through Victorian history.

She actually likes to see such scenes. Human beings are really very interesting creatures. Their lives are short, but they have distinct personalities. There are despicable people, mediocre people, and... ambitious people, idealists, and so on.

As an immortal, she has seen such scenes countless times, but she never gets tired of them.

Ever since the Kirilet family separated from Victoria, she has completely disappeared into history. She is like a fairy in many myths, giving the protagonist the power to change the world, and is generally a positive image.

Unlike her colleagues who like to play tricks on humans, she usually has a kind image. She will help humans, watch silently, and occasionally take action herself. Of course... she will also do things that are not bad in her eyes, but may seem bad to others.

Just like now, she helped the old Duke of Caster to hang on to his life, allowing him to witness with his own eyes the scene of his successor holding a sharp blade to assassinate him.

There was not much life left in the old man's body, but he straightened his hunched spine and forced a smile on his terrifying face. His old skin, as rough as tree bark, had turned bluish-white. At this moment, the old man was like a demon crawling out of hell, demanding Elizabeth's soul, but he did not take action. Instead, he grabbed her wrist tightly.

"You finally grasped the blade... Elizabeth Victoria Castor." His withered fingers clamped around her wrist, but instead of stopping the assassination, he pushed the dagger towards his heart. "These blood-stained hands are worthy of Castor's crown."

The dagger had pierced his skin, but strangely, there was hardly any blood flowing out from under the skin, as if all his blood vessels had dried up, but he was still alive...

He was clearly a corpse from every perspective, but there was a fiery spirit that supported him, and his eyes seemed to be burning with flames.

Elizabeth's hand, gripping the dagger, trembled violently as it hovered an inch from the old Duke's chest. She realized her wrist was being held tightly by that withered, eagle-claw-like hand. The old Duke of Caster's cloudy eyes suddenly shone with a last-minute sharpness, and a hoarse laugh, squeezed from his sunken chest, lashed out with the scent of blood.

She began to panic. Although she had intended to kill the old duke, after all... she had never killed anyone. She was a well-protected child. She might have the courage to force her brother down, but did she really have the courage to kill the old man in front of her?

"I thought you would poison me, but you didn't. That's good, because poisoning is too easy to detect. Even if you used a slow-acting poison, Victoria's doctors would carefully examine the cause of my death. However, if you wanted to kill me with this dagger, that would be too reckless. Do you have a plan? Have you calculated the timing? Are you...really ready?" The old man looked into Elizabeth's eyes and sneered. His purple nails almost dug into her skin. His other hand suddenly tore open her silk pajamas, revealing her bony chest. "Stab here, use the ceremonial dagger passed down in the Castor family for three hundred years—or continue to be a fool obsessed with brotherly intimacy."

Elizabeth's pupils suddenly contracted when she heard the word "brother and sister". Her grip loosened, and the dagger fell to the bed. Not a drop of blood flowed from the cut skin. She forced herself to look directly at the skull-like face: "Did you do this on purpose? You deliberately let me see you, make me uneasy, and then give rise to murderous intentions? Why...why did you do this?"

"Do you think my eyes, clouded by my sickbed, are unable to see the ugly plight of you and your sister? No, Elizabeth... The gaze from behind that window is your first lesson—never underestimate your opponent. Any negligence will become a knife that stabs you. You are smart and talented, and you learn quickly, but it is not enough... not nearly enough."

His palms held Elizabeth tightly, and the skinny palms had terrifying strength, and Elizabeth could not break free.

"True power never takes root in the bedroom, but sprouts when you dare to exploit your weaknesses. I allowed you to commit adultery with my brother, allowed you to steal power from the mansion, and even allowed you to assassinate right now... just to see if your blade was poisoned enough." Duke Caister shook his head. "And now, you're afraid? You're afraid of a dying old man?"

"I... I was just wondering if you left any evidence against me... I..." Elizabeth's mind was racing. The brain cells that had just been frozen by fear now meshed like jerky gears, giving a seemingly perfect reason. "My goal is to protect my brother and me from being threatened. I'm not trying to kill you, but if I have to... I will do it."

"You haven't given up on thinking, very good. But you still don't realize... or rather, your stupidity and shortsightedness have completely clouded your vision." The Duke of Caster smiled approvingly at first, but when Elizabeth relaxed for a moment, his eyes suddenly narrowed and he sneered. "Fool! If I truly wanted to destroy you, why would I resort to such a childish trick as 'infidelity'? Victoria's history books were written with poisoned wine and a slashing pen! Look at you now—"

His hand suddenly released her arm, gripping her jaw and forcing her to look directly into his dying eyes. "You tremble like a lamb even when you kill a dying man. How can you hold onto the scepter of Caister? Your brother has escaped. He doesn't recognize your love at all. Your twisted love will earn you nothing but alienation and indifference. This is your folly. You're superstitious about emotions, believing that love will eventually yield rewards—and you can't even control your own desires!"

He suddenly stopped roaring, and his breathing sounded like a leaky bellows, as if he would die in the next second.

"Listen, girl. Tomorrow, news of my death will spread throughout Londinium, but it won't be due to this dagger—" He ripped open his pajamas, revealing an old, festering wound on his chest. A strange silver thread could be vaguely seen through the rotting flesh, stitching the wound together, binding together these decaying organs, flesh, and skin... It looked so twisted and ugly, it made one feel uncomfortable in the sense of victory. The other end of the thread was wrapped around the fairy's finger. "I should have died three years ago. It was the Protector's Originium skills that kept me alive until now... just to wait for the moment when you would draw your knife and stab me. Now answer me—"

The dying old duke suddenly unleashed a terrifying burst of strength, dragging her to his face and speaking word by word, "If there were ten assassins outside the window, five false witnesses, and three of the Grand Duke's spies... how would you make my 'natural death' the stepping stone to your succession?"

Elizabeth was stunned. She had never thought about this before. Her gaze instantly fell on the French window. Outside that window... perhaps there really were a few pairs of eyes staring at all this.

If that's the case...what should she do?

If she were convicted of assassinating a Grand Duke, she would undoubtedly be sent to the guillotine.

Even her own brother couldn't save her... Elizabeth's throat rolled, cold sweat soaked the back of her neck. She suddenly felt scared. Why didn't she think about anything? Why did she bring herself here just because of fear?

"Can't answer?" The old Duke of Caster suddenly loosened his grip and slumped back onto the bed. Death had never been so close; he could even see the black mist lingering around his soul. "It doesn't matter. No one does it right the first time. I can allow you to fail once... Elizabeth, nominally, I am your husband, but in reality... I don't intend to find a wife. If I wanted, I could have countless wives, but I... lack an heir."

"...You..." Her voice was still trembling. She had never thought that Duke Caister had been paving the way for her from the beginning to the end. No wonder she had never been hindered when she tried to seize his power. No wonder whenever she had a problem, she could basically find a solution in the study. She had once rudely regarded these as luck.

But in reality, where is the luck?

It was all arranged.