As if there was no helping it, she picked up the newspaper from the table and reached out with her lorgnette. The lorgnette densely studded with diamonds contained a miniature portrait of the tiara that shone even more brilliantly than they did.
“The opera house has dim lighting, so I told them to adorn her with plenty of flashy jewels.”
“Is that the problem right now!”
“……”
“The day before yesterday, the opera house and the art gallery, yesterday you went to the Sarthe River with Count Turin, didn’t you!”
“Well, now is exactly the time when the lanterns on the Sarthe River are worth seeing.”
At the calm voice of Viscountess Cartien, as if asking what the problem was, Duke Atlas was at a loss for words. Over the past three days, he knew as much as there was to know about where Tatiana was meeting which men and how. No, it wasn’t just that he knew.
Since the newspapers publishing morning and evening editions were relaying her whereabouts all day, it would be hard for any citizen of Lebron with eyes not to know.
| Tatiana, the flower of high society, visits the opera house. Who is the lucky partner? |
| Suitors flocking to Viscountess Cartien family, so the engagement was just a rumor after all. |
| The one who receives the final choice from Cartien is… |
“Does this make any sense! How can a woman on the verge of engagement act so frivolously!”
“…Frivolously, you say. If it’s behavior that shouldn’t be done before an engagement, shouldn’t Your Grace know better?”
At the cold sneer Viscountess Cartien let slip as she set down the newspaper, the Duke, who had been pacing the reception room in anger, stopped abruptly. He knew what his prospective mother-in-law meant by those words, but he wasn’t a man to readily admit it.
“Are you saying I’m the same as Viscountess Cartien’s young lady?”
“What’s the difference then?”
“Viscountess!”
“Yes, I’m even more curious about the reason you’re insisting on marrying my daughter, who isn’t even on the same level.”
As Viscountess Cartien asked in a deeply subdued voice, Duke Atlas’s jaw stiffened. Watching the bewilderment and anger etched on his noticeably trembling cheek, Viscountess Cartien quietly rested her chin on her hand.
“See, Your Grace.”
“……”
“You’re someone not used to holding back, yet you’re holding back this much because you want my daughter that badly.”
Leaning forward, her supported chin pointed even more ahead. The Duke, who had been about to shout at the irritating Viscountess right then, barely suppressed his surging breath.
“You’re still no match for that woman, Alexei.”
His aunt, the Queen Consort, had said it repeatedly. And indeed, there was no bride candidate in the Freya Empire like Tatiana.
“Don’t forget what that little fox will bring to us.”
The one thing the Duke’s family, which had everything in the world, lacked—only this woman’s youngest daughter could fill it. Of course, her incomparable noble beauty played a part too. The only drawback was that she was so noble it felt like one couldn’t even touch her carelessly. But that wasn’t particularly a reason to give up.
“So what are you going to do? The past is the past, we need to come up with countermeasures!”
“What countermeasures.”
“Viscountess!”
“Your Grace just needs to clean up after that woman properly. Once is one thing, but twice is a bit much, isn’t it?”
“Th-that woman was just a one-night stand anyway! With all the mess your daughter made, how am I supposed to clean up more?”
“How? They say lights have been brightly lit in the villa on 32 Rickborn Street, registered under the butler’s name, for the past few days. It means to make sure to turn off the lights when you go out.”
“……”
One night must be quite a long time for the Duke.
Viscountess Cartien folded her lorgnette as if bored and stood up from her seat. As she tried to pass by her prospective son-in-law, whose face was red like burning firewood, she picked up the newspaper from the table again.
How cute. Her red lips curved into a long arc.
“As expected… she’s my daughter, but it’s a shame to keep her to myself.”
△▲△▲△
“Look at this. It’s Cartien again.”
“Indeed.”
The soldiers gathered in the training camp break room were huddling their heads over a single newspaper. It hadn’t been long since they returned from the war, and the grueling training showed no end. In the brief interval to switch weapons, they needed to at least quench their thirst with water, but their throats kept gulping toward the person in the newspaper instead.
“…Y-yeah, she really is pretty, isn’t she? Like she’s made of sugar or something. Who knew a person could look like that.”
“What’s the use of being pretty? What kind of woman is she!”
The man with vivid orange hair, who had been peeking beyond the assorted heads gathered together, grumbled in complaint, but even he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful. Instead, at the family name prominently emblazoned in the headline of the newspaper, Owen, the orange-haired man, openly twisted his face.
“Idiot, that crazy family is a place where they won’t even associate with ordinary people. Have you forgotten what that witch did to our Captain?”
“Th-that, well.”
Turin, who had just shed his recruit status and was at the age when interest in the opposite sex was burning hot, rubbed his flushed cheek. Strictly speaking, Turin had roots in a noble family, albeit distant, while Owen was, to put it nicely, a commoner from a slum, so it didn’t make sense for Owen to embarrass Turin.
However, in Freya’s absolute monarchy noble society, only in this ‘Black Wolf’ training camp was there no distinction of status. Knights and mercenaries alike had confirmed the overwhelming power of Kainel Townsent with their own eyes on the battlefield. To them, status held no particular sway.
They had come here voluntarily. Even Major Gerald from the palace knight order had been saved by Kainel, and whether as a group or individuals, no one in various battles hadn’t owed their lives to the ‘Black Wolf’ leader.
Thus, the most free and progressive organization in Freya was born. With no coercion whatsoever, consisting only of people who believed in and followed just the leader, their loyalty to him was naturally high.
“…Y-yeah, Viscountess Cartien was really too much.”
“Too much? She completely trampled the person! That woman is a witch. A witch of vanity with a decent facade!”
Ptooey!
Owen, who got more excited about the Captain’s affairs than his own, spat out phlegm-mixed saliva. Even though it was an event from three years ago, it was as vivid as if it were unfolding before his eyes, given how the whole of Lebron had been abuzz.
“He was practically on his way to death! To do such a horrible thing to someone going to rescue the missing Crown Prince from Kathmin?”
“…Don’t get excited.”
“Does it look like I can stay calm? There are only a few knights affiliated with the imperial family, and when no one else dares to go and he’s stepping in instead, they should be bowing in gratitude, but to give him such a humiliating disgrace!”
The rage surges up so much he can’t bear it. Back then, when His Highness the Crown Prince was leading the conquest war in place of His Majesty the Emperor who was staying behind, up to that point, the Captain was just the leader of a small mercenary band.
Nothing more, nothing less—a mercenary who just does the job for the money he receives.
His name had become somewhat known from a few battles, and he more than repaid the money he was paid several times over. Even so, he stepped forward on his own to rescue His Highness the Crown Prince who had disappeared in the harsh Snow Mountains.
What wind must have blown for someone who was busy just fighting for the money he received to suddenly volunteer to rescue His Highness the Crown Prince after swinging his sword like mad for a few days? The Captain’s poignant gaze as he knelt before the Emperor on his own initiative still makes Owen’s heart ache even when he think of it now.
“What a fool, why go that far! Who’s going to appreciate it!”
“Owen.”
“What good would come of it! You know better than anyone what kind of people they are, so why!”
It was called a disappearance, but rumors were rife that the Crown Prince had been captured as a prisoner by the barbarian Sharman. In a situation where even the imperial family had practically given up on the Crown Prince, there was no reason to attach support troops to a mercenary who stepped forward to rescue him. The only thing those arrogant noble lords bestowed was a last supper. It was just the kind of thing nobles who love to eat and play would do.
“…Bastards.”
Like telling him to at least see the imperial palace before dying.
The world’s most cruel and arrogant people. To such people, the request from Kainel, the leader of the mercenary band, was unbelievably modest.
He wished for just one dance with Tatiana Lauren de Cartien.
“No one expected our Captain to return alive! No, they didn’t want him to!”
“I told you to lower your voice.”
“What’s the big deal about one dance! Is that woman really made of sugar? As if she’d shatter if our Captain even touched her!”
Yeah. It would have been better if she had shattered!
Crack. Owen’s knuckle joints rang out louder than usual. He had only asked for a dance ahead of the banquet, something ordinary for other men, but it turned out particularly cruel for the Captain.
That infamous Viscountess Cartien ended up making the Captain’s letter public. It was said that in front of a crowd of plausible suitor candidates, she scoffed as if it was absurd and threw the letter into the fireplace as if it were a bug.
The letter burned away like that, but the ridicule toward the illegitimate child of some noble who didn’t know his place spread throughout the entire capital before even a day had passed.
And it continues to this day, even years later.
“Fuck. Someday, I’ll snap that fox’s neck.”
“S-stop it already. There are quite a few nobles in our mercenary band too, subtly. And if you think about it, it wasn’t Lady Tatiana but the Viscountess who did it.”
“The daughter takes after her mother. What’s different about the daughter? She’s not some snot-nosed kid, always hiding behind her mother’s dress.”
Owen’s scoff was higher than the Viscountess’s from some time ago. No matter how many eyes and ears that fox has planted all over Lebron, he doesn’t care. For the Captain who saved him—an orphan who nearly ended his life as a back-alley thug—he would offer his life ten times over. Knowing well Owen’s overflowing loyalty, Turin read the newspaper as if making an excuse.
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