Cursed Object

Ivy's POV

There was a sudden silence at the table before Lucas stood up in a rage. "You can't be serious, Father. You'll let... her put on Mother's wedding dress?"

The marquis replied dismissively, "Lucas, Crystal was also Ivy's mother. Don't act like I'm letting some outsider wear her dress. Besides, I'm sure she would have loved to see her own daughter wear it."

The marquis is acting out of character right now. What's the catch? Why did he readily agree to let me put on a dress he's been guarding with his life? I mean, when I asked to wear the dress, I wasn't serious. But all's well that ends well, right?

"But Father..." Lucas whined, but the marquis quickly shut him off. "It's decided. Ivy will wear her mother's dress, and that's final."

We all ate in silence after that. And of course, both my brothers looked displeased but couldn't speak up.

After breakfast, Anya and I went to see the dress.

It was the perfect fit. You'd think it was made with my measurements. Even though the design was quite outdated, it was simple yet elegant. I didn't feel the need to change anything about it, so I sent the seamstress back. I was going to wear it the way it was. It's not like I'm having my dream wedding or anything. I'm marrying a jerk. Maybe this is my punishment. I mean, I was a killer. There's no way I escaped death to have an easy life. God, marriage wasn't even on my mind in my past life. I mean, yeah, I did go out with people from time to time, but it was nothing serious. And now, all of a sudden, I'm getting married.

"My Lady, are you sure you don't want anything about the dress changed?" Anya asked as she followed me out of the treasure room.

The seamstress had taken the dress to have it checked. Since it hadn't been worn for more than two decades, she said she had to ensure there were no tears. I smiled at Anya. "Yeah, I'm sure."

She didn't press further.

"Where are we headed next?" Anya asked excitedly.

I thought for a while before responding, "I want to see the armory."

For a family that's known for their combat magic, I bet they have exciting weapons.

Anya looked at me, surprised, but said nothing. I bet she was wondering how a person can change so much overnight. Because first off, Ivy didn't like reading the types of books I've been reading as of late, and she certainly wanted nothing to do with the armory. Anything fighting and combat-related was like Ivy's mortal enemy.

In truth, she never liked them because they reminded her of how useless she was.

Even though Ivy acted all vile with Irene, she was actually very timid and insecure. She was the complete opposite of me when it came to seeing blood. Lady Ivy couldn't handle even the sight of blood. She would faint just from seeing her monthly blood.

Most people say it's because her mother died from postpartum hemorrhage. But who knows? I'm not one to judge. There's nothing in her memories that might hint at why she can't handle blood. From her memories, I can conclude that it's not a natural hate—it's almost like she was being forced to hate blood.

But whatever that force is, it doesn't affect me, seeing as how just the thought of blood still brings a creepy smile to my face. All this blood talk's got me craving to see some blood.

The armory is right after the training ground, so you'll have to pass through the training ground to get there.

The training ground stretched out before me, a vast expanse surrounded by towering stone walls etched with runes that hummed with ancient magic. The air felt thick with power, as though you could reach out and touch it. The ground was a mix of grass and hardened earth, worn smooth from years of practice.

I glanced over at the nearby sparring platforms, where others—some older, some younger—were focused on their combat magic. The crackling tension in the air was almost palpable, with spells flying through the air, sparks of flame dancing, and water whirling in a perfect, controlled frenzy. Each user was pushing their magic to its limits.0*

But all movement stopped once they saw me approach.

"Isn't that the eldest daughter of the marquis?" I heard one of the men ask no one in particular.

"Yes, but what is she doing here? She never comes anywhere near here," said another.

I ignored all their curious gazes and headed straight for the armory.

The armory glowed with magic as I stepped inside, its walls lined with enchanted weapons and shimmering armor. Swords hummed softly, their blades carved with shifting runes that seemed almost alive. Crystal staves and wands floated in display cases, glowing with an eerie light. Shields reflected more than just my face—they showed flickers of battles yet to come. Even the quivers were packed with arrows tipped in flickering elemental power. The air was thick with energy, crackling and alive, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

What really grabbed my attention, though, was a black katana placed at the far end of the room. It brought back some unwanted memories, but I ignored them. What really attracted me wasn't the fact that it was a katana, but rather a force that seemed to be calling me.

In a daze, I walked to it and almost touched it before Anya hurriedly stopped me.

"My Lady, you can't touch that."

I gave her a confused stare. "Why can't I touch it?" I asked.

Anya was quick to explain. Apparently, it was some cursed object, and whoever came in contact with it died.

I, of course, didn't believe that, so I reached out and touched it.

"Ouch."

The katana was so sharp, it cut me when I barely even touched it. Blood dropped from my finger onto the blade, and as soon as it did, the blade glowed red.

What the...