CH 14

The sight of a dazzling gold that shone brighter than honey and more luminous than the dawning sun blinded him. It was a color of blonde he was all too familiar with. However, at this moment, it was one that struck him as particularly frightening.

The Count wiped his sweaty palms on his knees.

I have to stay calm. He worked his mind hard trying to think of a way out.

“What’s driving you crazy, Count?”

He was aware of how much she disliked having to repeat herself, but he was at a loss for how to respond to her query.

If she learns that ‘Ronell’ is missing—

Especially if she finds out that she was taken away by a ‘Duncan’. If she finds out the child has the backing of a ‘Duncan’.

—he will die.

It would not end with just his death, his entire family would be annihilated alongside him.

What do we do. What should I do. What am I supposed to do now.

Anxiety caused his teeth to rattle, and he couldn’t even bite his lip to calm down. The woman found his disheveled appearance and his roving eyes humorous. Seeing her thick lips curve, he shivered.

A smile so clean that it was similar to that of a pale frost.

It’s over. It’s really over.

Despite the Count’s trembling, the woman continued speaking steadily.

“Relax, Count. I knew she was going to go back to the Duncans anyway.”

“Then please—”

Have mercy, but there was no opportunity to finish his sentence. The woman bent down, running her fingers across his knee.

“But you know, Count.”

Struggling to fight the urge to close his eyes, the Count endured the touch of her fingers against his body.

“It’s also true that you’ve failed to fulfill the deal.”

“I’m sorry, p-please, give me, one more chance.”

The Count’s response, which he forced from his mouth, was desperate. He couldn’t afford to feel humiliated by the fact that he was down to spineless begging.

“You look desperate, Count.”

“Please… Please just once. One more chance.”

“That’s a logic for losers. How corny.”

“I’m as desperate as it is.”

Whispered the Count imploringly,

“Nonsense. Will that change the fact that you’ve lost?”

The woman promptly dismissed it. When she was about to put her hood back on, the Count appealed to her.

“The future can change.”

“So you want me to give you another chance?”

“Yes, in the first place, forgiveness and mercy are the natural virtues of the high-ranking. Just once, at least once—”

It was a shameful display of pleading. He lowered his head in a degrading gesture of submission, as if he were a slave. Over and over, the Count begged, and finally, the woman patted her seat gently with her fingertips.

“You’re noisy. The one who comes out on the losing end always has the most to say.”

“…I-I apologize.”

“Shouldn’t it be enough to fulfill the original conditions?”

However, there was no time to raise any objections. Covering her face with her hood, the woman coldly spoke.

“Get her back. No exceptions. Whatever it takes. That child will stay in your household until her 10th birthday; those were the terms of the contract.”

“……”

“Well then, I pray for your safe return. Count.”

The woman disappeared as swiftly as she had abruptly appeared.

With no one else in the carriage anymore, the Count led his quivering hands to his face. Despair seeped through his fingers. What chance do I have of winning with a Duncan as my opponent…

No. Even if it’s a Duncan.

After some thought, the resolve in his green eyes became clear. The Count swore a grave vow.

Just as the woman said.

“…I have to get her back.”

No exceptions. Whatever it takes.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Geran, the butler of the House of Count Artes, breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the now serene mansion. Ever since Count Artes abruptly brought in Miss Ronell 2 years ago, this place always has a ferocious atmosphere.

For the mistreated little girl, for the angry Countess, and for the increasingly violent Young Master, Miss Ronell had to leave.

The House of Duncan will take good care of that child.

Geran knew that he, too, had sinned, but he was grateful that things had worked out for the better.

He was really convinced it was for the best.

Some parts of the mansion were damaged, but the compensation left by Miss Aicila Duncan’s secretary should be enough to fix it up.

“Geran.”

Hearing the voice, he immediately turned his head. The pallid-faced Count put down his cane and entered the room. After three days away, the head of the mansion, who had run out as soon as he learned that Miss Ronell had left, finally returned home.

“Yes, Your Excellency. How may I help you?”

The Count stood by the door, his face unusually white. Shocked at the unexpected sight of his master’s sickly complexion, Geran replied a beat late.

“My wife?”

“The Madam is still in bed.”

“Have her get dressed and ready to go. Lloyd, too.”

The Count ordered him as he hurriedly strode across the room. There was not a moment of ease in his fast-paced steps. He looked anxious as if he were being chased by something, like he was a prey being hunted.

In the midst of his anxiety, Geran attempted to dissuade him as naturally as possible. Normally, he would have silently obeyed, but things were looking dire at the moment.

“The Young Master is being treated from the cat’s attack. The Madam is still unwell—”

“Get them ready to go out.”

“…Your Excellency.”

“We’re going to pick up Ronell. The whole family has to go and get her, no matter how low that forces us to get on our knees.”

Wh-who? Before he realized what he was doing, Geran, doubting his ears, grasped the Count, who stubbornly refused to turn around. He was aware that such action was unbecoming of a butler.

“Your Excellency. Your Excellency, one moment.”

“Can’t you spit it all out, Geran?”

“If Miss Ronell were to return—”

She’ll be abused as soon as she comes back.

For the sake of the poor girl, she should live with the Duncans. Geran was crushed by the Count’s indifferent response.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Your Excellency.”

“That child, she needs to be locked up in the corner of this house until I allow her otherwise. She has to!”

“Then why are you taking her?”

Geran’s voice rose in volume subconsciously. The Madam had excessively abused the child, and he did not deny that fact.

But as Miss Aicila Duncan pointed out, there was no way the Madam could have liked her. She would have to be a person of impeccable character to accept Ronell.

An illegitimate child was living proof that the other spouse had committed an affair. The Madam must have inevitably felt miserable every time she saw the child. She despised the child while knowing that the problem lay with her husband, not the child.

The Count, who was responsible for the fatal misunderstanding that led to an emotional damage for his dear wife and child, shamelessly denounced them.

“Because they were wrong. As stated by Miss Duncan, my wife did abuse Ronell. If my wife and Lloyd guarantee that she will be treated nicely from here on out, the Duncans will have no grounds for continuing to oppose us.”

“Your Excellency is at fault, too.”

“Which is why I must go and kneel before them as well.”

We have to get that child back somehow. The Count hammered on in his thoughts like a whining child.

Although the House of Count Artes is a prestigious family with a well-established history, they had little chance against the House of Duncan, who ran the empire’s economy and the continent beyond it. Furthermore, right ‘now’, it is Artes who has a weakness, not Duncan.The Ederka Empire may have disapproved of illegitimate children, but it would not accept mistreatment of any kind.

If we fight the Duncans, Artes will lose. There’s no other way.

I’ll have to seem as pitiful as possible, make up excuses for myself, and try to win her back.

…Pride was not an issue. ‘She’ had warned him that it was a matter of life and death. Whatever it is, somehow, it has to be done.

“The House of Duncan will never hand her back.”

“Ronell is the illegitimate child of Artes. The Duncans stole her at their own discretion. After we apologize and reach a custody arrangement with them, they will have no reason to retain the child.”

“……”

“If we promise not to abuse her anymore, the Duncans will return her. There’s no need for them to go out of their way to protect the child.”

Successfully retrieving the child would help restore his dignity, which had been dented by his failed first attempt.

A promise? No noble worth their salt would be deluded enough to honor such a promise. He would put on a show of repentance and penance in an effort to get the child back, but that’s all it would be, a play. Anything that goes on behind the walls of the mansion is implicitly kept secret by the nobility.

“The Madam won’t be pleased.”

“So it will be resolved with violence. We bring her in and then settle any conflicts with violence. As it has always been.”

“Your Excellency! How—”

“…Father?”

The child seems to have been awakened by the sound of the two’s argument. Upon seeing his son, the Count’s expression quickly softened.

Geran was revolted by the man’s smiling expression, knowing that this was the same person who had wanted to bring the child back and actively participate in her abuse. Staring at the man he had been serving for so long, a faint tremor ran through his lips.

As if he had not seen the contempt on the butler’s face, the Count whispered tenderly to his son.

“Lloyd, go get ready.”

“Yes?”

“We’re going to pick up Ronell. Get ready to go out right now.”

“That b*stard ran away. Do you know where she is?”

I do. When Lloyd listened to the Count’s affirmation, a sparkle appeared in his eyes. Nothing like a child—no, maybe because he is a child—such a cruel but innocent life gave him goosebumps. Geran knew full well of how violent Artes’s young master, Lloyd Artes, could be.

“Bring her back?”

“Right.”

“Can we really lock her up?”

“Of course.”

As he watched his son’s hurried back leaving the room, the Count clicked his tongue. He has quite the temper. His little mutter only increased Geran’s astonishment.

It was absurd that he had just incited such brutality only to mutter nonchalantly as if nothing were wrong.

Geran stood there for a long time trying to think of a reply, but nothing seemed to come to him. To avoid coming out as impolite, he could only keep quiet.

The Count stopped pacing and waved his hand in annoyance.

“No, I’ll go to my wife myself.”

“Your Excellency. One moment, please—”

Count Artes strode away with a disgruntled expression, leaving Geran alone and disheartened by the tragedy that was soon approaching.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Upon learning their destination, the woman fainted a couple of times, and Lloyd foamed at the mouth, vehemently opposed to having to apologize.

However, the Count, the family head, was an insurmountable obstacle for the pair to overcome. In the end, the Count nearly threw them into the carriage as he ordered them to head to Duncan Mansion.

“I’m not apologizing.”

“You’ve done something wrong.”

Lloyd gritted his teeth, indignant at his parent’s sharp confrontation, and kicked the carriage seat. The loud noise caused the Countess to snap and clutch her head.

“Stop kicking it, Lloyd!”

Opening his mouth to argue, Lloyd was shocked by what was said next.

“At least that b*stard was quiet! Why are you being noisy when your mom is sick!”

“……”

“As for you. Are you out of your mind for bringing us to where the House of Duncan is? You can’t possibly do this if you’re human!”

You don’t care about me, not even the slightest bit. He had been married to her, but he slept with another woman and brought her child to their house; now that the child has been taken away, he is desperate to get her back and is willing to resort to any means necessary to do so, even forcing her to come with him.

The Countess howled, venting her pent-up anger. Even as she pounded her chest repeatedly, the Count never lost his composure.

“It will be done once we bring that child back.”

It was a soothing voice. His unchanging disinterested tone was so frustrating that the Countess reached out with her nails and pounced at him. The Count simply tripped her, sending her tumbling as he nonchalantly went on.

“You can do as you please once we get her back.”

“Why, what if I make her shave her hair this time!”

“If you want to, so be it.”

She knew that it was wrong to abuse her. But the more she saw Ronell, the more she despised her, and the more she felt herself transforming into a monster. Every time she laid her eyes on her, she would incomprehensibly feel choked up and be unable to control her rage.

I thought I’d finally end this vicious cycle.

Seeing her inconsiderate husband, the Countess’s eyes flashed. She couldn’t stand it.

“You’re a real piece of trash.”

The Count snorted at her earnest words.

Right, I’m trash, but you’re incorruptible trash.

His wife, completely lost the drive to get angry, sat weakly on the carriage seat, her limbs feebly splayed. The Count could feel Lloyd, who had quietly faded into the background, cautiously peek at his face, but he kept quiet with his legs crossed.

With the last vestiges of affection being severed, her expression drained. And she heard what sounded like a clean snap of something.

“Do whatever you want.”

The Countess finally lifted her chin and shrugged. As if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her head, she felt numb and very cold within; possibly because she no longer bears even the smallest sliver of feelings for her husband. Although he was the main character in this farce, she felt mocked since he played the part of an onlooker.

“Fine, do whatever you want. I’ll be watching you.”

“I appreciate that, Madam.”

“Will Aicila Duncan really give her back? You have no idea how crazy she was when she turned the mansion upside down and left.”

Smiling, the wife mocked her stiff husband.

“I’ll watch you lose.”

Please, I wish you a truly miserable downfall.

Outside the carriage window, the street where the Duncan Mansion was located came into view. A sophisticated and clean avenue where the bourgeoisie lived.

The Countess waited, her feet twitching, her mood fluctuating between excitement and sorrow.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Milady.”

Aicila glanced up at her secretary’s call. As a diligent successor, she was working hard in her own studies. Glasses lined with amethyst and platinum scattered sunlight, reflecting a fragment of rainbow light that settled beautifully on the desk.

“What is it, Mitchell?”

“A carriage from Count Artes’s manor has arrived.”

Unless it is very late at night, it is common sense to accept carriages from prestigious families. That was the proper courtesy of the Ederka Empire.

Artes is a prestigious family, but…

Aicila was a person who lived trampling on common sense.

So.

“Close the gates.”

A cold-hearted order was bound to fall.

Ara: LMAO, GO SISTER ASH!!