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She began to suspect that it was the effect of magic, but her inner sense told her that this was the flame of life.
The fierce flames surged toward the sky, emitting brilliant colors like a rainbow, with a pale curtain of fire on the outer layer. Through this curtain, she saw the owner of this life-giving fire.
A beautiful girl with a plump figure, holding two swords, her long white hair tied into a ponytail.
Those men fell into a pool of blood before they could even utter a word, but by that time, Angelina had already forgotten their existence.
At that moment, another figure stepped forward.
At first glance, it was impossible to tell whether the person was male or female. She had neither the mood nor the time to wonder about their beauty.
At first, she couldn't make out the appearance of the fire of life clearly, but then Angelina noticed that in her eyes, the air in the entire space had become wildly distorted.
It was a pure white, slightly transparent flame, unclear and with no discernible boundaries. From that person at the center, it spread outward calmly, forming a massive fireball. The fireball was surrounded by flames of various colors, burning like a storm.
The overwhelming vitality emanating from the flames gave off an almost stinging sensation and an oppressive feeling, as though facing the sun.
It was like a pure white sun walking toward her. If the fire of life had temperature, she would likely have been burned to ash.
"Don't come closer!!!"
"I'm an adventurer who came to save you. Sorry I'm late." A beautiful face appeared directly in front of the girl, and then—
She fainted immediately.
Even now, her legs were still shaking, as if she had no sense of standing on the ground. Gripping the door handle, Angelina still couldn't calm herself.
"This is a nightmare, right? Yes, it must be just a nightmare in this bed."
"It doesn't exist. How could such a thing exist in the world?" Trying to regain her composure, the girl confirmed it again and again in her mind, then nodded firmly.
"No problem, it's all a nightmare, nothing happened. I'll go see my mother next."
The door suddenly opened, and standing there was a beautiful woman. She wore a black dress, and her long brown hair was tied in a bun. Her waist was slender, but her upper and lower parts were unusually plump. She had a straight and tight figure that made her appear as though she hadn't borne a child.
"Mom," the girl said, stunned—not because of the woman who suddenly appeared before her, the mother of the Duke of Maple Moon, but because of the young man standing next to the beautiful young woman, who was even more beautiful than she was.
"Good morning, are you awake?" The boy greeted casually.
"Mom, why?"
Suddenly, Angelina was hugged.
"I was so worried! You silly child!"
"If Levi hadn't saved you, what would I have done?"
She was deeply moved by her mother's embrace, the concern in her eyes, and the tears that welled up. But the look from the young man made Angelina feel cold, from the soles of her feet to her heart.
'Why was he here? Wasn't everything that happened yesterday just a dream? Who was Levi? Why did she call him 'mother' so intimately?' Confusion filled her heart.
'Also, what did that look mean? It was terrifying! Why was he smiling like that? Mom, I'm so scared!'
"What a touching mother-daughter relationship!" Aya, who was also a mother, felt a pang of sympathy as she saw the girl bury her head in her mother's shoulder and cry uncontrollably.
The girl was crying so desperately, it seemed that she had truly been terrified by the kidnappers.
Aya showed a gentle, kind smile, silently watching them.
The time shifted back to about seven hours ago, early in the morning, when the entire Duke's Mansion was brightly lit and in chaos.
"Still no news. We've searched all the inns in the city!"
"The last place the young lady was seen was the XXX restaurant. Find the person in charge for me!"
"He's been kneeling for half an hour. It's confirmed that he knows nothing."
"Then arrest all the waiters and question them! Pull them out of bed."
The maids rushed around the massive mansion. Nearly all the subordinate soldiers had been dispatched, and the entire city was under martial law.
"Madam, please go to sleep for now." The housekeeper said with concern.
Sitting at the desk, supporting her swollen, red eyes with her hands, the Duchess's figure was already unsteady.
"I'm fine. I can't sleep in a situation like this." Operan Colswaite shook her head gently, speaking in a hoarse voice.
After three days of meetings in the capital, as the only female senior duke in the country and the holder of the highest dukedom, each meeting was a brutal battle for her.
Even after six years, she still heard voices urging her to remarry, with many men volunteering to "take responsibility."
It was truly ridiculous. They coveted her body and the power in her hands but pretended to be righteous, acting as if their suggestion to remarry was an act of selflessness.
As a result, too much time was wasted on such trivial issues, and the most important proposals regarding food, taxes, and military matters were dealt with hastily, without any meaningful resolution.
'If it weren't for my daughter, I would have probably collapsed from exhaustion in the capital.' She thought, 'I would at least be able to see my daughter when I got home. It was with this belief that I managed to deal with those men, either shameless or insidious, doing my best to mediate.'
But when she got home, Angelina was missing.
"Lina, Lina..."
The first thing she showed to her subordinates was her Duke side. She suppressed her emotional impulses, remained calm, and calmly arranged all the manpower and tasks.
Then, she returned to her room. When things quieted down, the maternal side of her took over.
Big tears rolled down her face, ruining her light makeup. Her hair was disheveled, and she had no time to tidy it. Her eyes became swollen, and her face turned as pale as death.
The last time she looked so distraught was the night her husband suddenly passed away. After all these years, her face had not aged, and her figure had remained the same, but her soul was so tired that she felt like she could collapse.
It had been six years since she last leaned on a man's shoulder. If something were to happen to her daughter—the only support in her heart—could she truly hold on for another six years?
"Help me up."