Episode 11
“Who said anything about killing him?”
“What…?”
Bang.
“Aaaaaargh!”
In the blink of an eye, a hole had opened in the top of his foot. The man rolled his eyes back and writhed.
“Sounds like a pig being slaughtered.”
Dismissing the agonized scream in a single curt remark, Killian left the warehouse.
“What shall we do? This seems no different from a declaration of war.”
“Cut off his arms and legs and send them in a package. Since we received a gift, it would only be proper to return the favor.”
“It’s not as though there’s absolutely no room to resolve this through dialogue…”
“Killian Maximilian Devonshire!”
Jenok had not even finished speaking. The moment the man dared utter the forbidden full name, Killian raised his brows and turned back. The man poured out a cry filled with malice.
“I’ll prophesy it for you! You’ll die a horrible death! And your woman will be passed around from man to man until she meets a miserable—”
“Your Highness!”
Killian, who had been listening to the barrage of curses with composure, strode forward at the word “woman.”
“Gah!”
Before Jenok could stop him, Killian kicked the chair over and asked again.
“A miserable what?”
“…”
“If you start talking, you should finish. Hm?”
There was no answer despite the repeated question. It seemed the man had struck the back of his head hard and lost consciousness. After nudging the man’s cheek with the toe of his shoe to confirm it, Killian aimed his gun at the man’s forehead.
“Your Highness!”
Bang.
Before anyone could stop him, the muzzle spat fire. Looking down at the corpse, Killian ordered,
“I’ve changed my mind. Cut the body into pieces and dump it at the harbor.”
* * *
Killian, Duke of Devonshire, was the queen’s nephew, the lord of Rockford, the most fertile land in Ethelwood, and a man who stood at the pinnacle of the nobility.
Though he was among the richest men in the nation, he possessed a dignity free of extravagance; though he was royalty, he maintained a neutral course that allowed him to occupy a front seat in the House of Lords. He had even founded a charitable organization for the poor.
He was famous enough for his name to be spoken of among the common people.
If the role of his right arm, Jenok Cleburne, was to perfectly conceal the Killian Devonshire who had begun expanding his power in the shadows, then the one who assisted Killian Devonshire in the light was his left arm, Baron Benedict Sussex.
“Jenok.”
At the voice that sounded as though it was pressing down its anger, Jenok lowered his eyes. Unlike Jenok, who had crawled up from the very bottom and devoted everything to Killian, Benedict was an aristocrat to the bone.
“What were you doing when His Highness put a hole in the head of the southern organization’s action leader?”
“…”
“Hm? Were you standing by with your hands behind your back, enjoying the show? Even a mongrel cur of no breeding should know the difference between what is right and what is not. Did I overestimate you too much? Is that it?”
Faced with the torrent of reproach, Jenok took a moment to steady his breath. The other man was old. A cunning old man who shuffled papers behind his back while Jenok took the lead and bloodied his own hands.
“This is why I said it would never do, from the moment we brought in a rootless wretch.”
The muttered words that spilled out just as he was trying to endure it lit the fuse. Jenok curled his fingers into his palm and retorted,
“He said something he should never have said. Anyone can run their mouth after the fact.”
“Run my mouth? You, a slum orphan who had nothing to your name. You don’t even have the wits to know what you should and shouldn’t say.”
“…
Lord Sussex. Aren’t you sixty years old? I thought you intended to live out your allotted span, but it seems you have no such desire.”
“Ho. Finally baring your teeth, are you? You wild dog.”
Just as the level of the conversation was rising to a dangerous height, the door flew open. At the entrance of their master, both men closed their mouths as if they had not been on the verge of an explosion a moment before.
Killian approached the couch in the center, sat with his long legs crossed, and placed his hands on his knee.
“Then let us discuss our direction from here on.”
It was around sunset when the fierce discussion came to an end. As Killian rose to leave, Benedict followed after him.
“Your Highness. I have something to say.”
“What is it?”
Killian, taking his coat from a servant, narrowed his eyes at the words that followed.
“We founded Gillitus in strict secrecy, but no matter how carefully we move, information leaking from behind the scenes is unavoidable. The number of eyes watching us with suspicion is increasing.”
“And?”
“To avoid suspicion, you must accept the match arranged by the queen.”
“I was under the impression that matter had already been settled. Were you not the one who stepped forward to oppose it?”
“I was. Because there is no woman who serves and thinks of Your Highness more sincerely than Miss Philone. However.”
“However?”
“However, for that very reason, you must accept the marriage arranged by the queen.”
Benedict spoke firmly.
“The situation is worse than expected. The eyes watching us are growing sharper by the day. If, by some chance, Her Majesty learns that you have been spending years building your influence in the underworld, Miss Philone will not be safe either.”
Killian, who had turned away as if it was not even worth considering, came to a halt.
“Are you telling me to live as a puppet?”
“No. You should use it against them. Pretend to follow what they want, and use the woman the queen presents as both a smokescreen and a shield. Send Miss Philone away to a safe place.”
Instead of an answer, a cold gaze returned to him.
There had been a time when that blade-like stare would have frozen him in place, but Benedict had served the Duke of Devonshire for over a decade now. After steadying his breath, he continued.
“Did you not say you wished to build power in the shadows? That you would possess power no one could control?”
The House of Devonshire was a family with a long history and great prestige. However, it had not been long since it had begun to exert such influence over Ethelwood.
The previous Duke of Devonshire had been a quiet man and a weak younger brother. He met the partner chosen for him by his older sister, the queen, and entered a political marriage. The following year, he had Killian. As if he had fulfilled his duty the moment he obtained a son, he ran away from the estate, and ten years later, he and his mistress burned to death in a mysterious fire.
There were too many dubious points to call it an accident. The investigation, too, fizzled out far too quickly for the death of such an important figure.
Benedict had stood at the very center of it all.
Because he was the very person who had drafted the prenuptial contract of the former Devonshire couple.
A clause stated that if the duchess demanded a divorce due to the duke’s clear defects, she would be returned twice the amount of her dowry as alimony.
Before the previous Duke of Devonshire died, rumors spread widely that the duchess, no longer able to endure, had been preparing to return to her family home. As they did, the rumors grew more and more specific.
That before the nation could be burdened with an enormous sum in alimony, the queen, his older sister, had killed her younger brother while disguising it as an accident.
That claim was supported by the final clause.
However, if the duke died in an “unforeseen accident,” the alimony the duchess would have received would naturally be nullified, and instead she would be paid an annuity until her death.
Secret conversations on a national level took place, and as soon as the duchess received the agreed-upon “consolation money,” she fled back to her own country as if escaping. Rather than risk being killed at any moment, she abandoned both the annuity and her position and returned to her family.
It had been a timid but wise decision.
Benedict thought that must also have been why the queen had chosen her as her sister-in-law in the first place.
Afterward, the queen bestowed many lands and islands upon Killian, who had been left alone. It was likely the result of guilt toward the nephew she had made an orphan in all but name, and the arrogance of believing he was in her grasp anyway. Never imagining that the young, powerless child would grow up to point a gun at her.
Benedict clearly remembered the first time he saw the orphaned boy who had become the wealthiest heir in the nation. It was the day he had been selected as the political tutor of the highborn young duke and gone to make his first introduction. After bowing deeply in greeting, he had just been about to raise his head when a sudden question struck him.
—What must I do to live as I wish in this country?
—Pardon?
—What must I do so that no one dares rule over me or those around me?
Even if he possessed one of the noblest statuses in the country and an immense fortune, the other party was still a child. Contrary to the calm, low voice, Benedict thought the boy’s face would be colored with anger or fear. But it was not. The moment he raised his head, a tremendous shock washed over him. Far from being angry, the boy looked composed and serene. At the same time, a powerful realization overtook Benedict.
It was this person. The one he had long desired and waited for, the one who would stabilize this country. The one who would create the world he wished for.
After that, he had spent many years at his side as teacher, adviser, and close aide.
“You have something else to say.”
It had not merely been the passage of time. Killian, having read something in Benedict’s expression, waited for him to speak.
“Yes. In truth, upon investigating in advance, I found that Lady Chloe, the marriage partner presented by Her Majesty, is a woman with whom negotiation is possible. Contrary to appearances, she is quite ambitious.”
“And so?”
“According to those close to her, she wants to escape her father’s shadow and establish her own business.”
Benedict clasped his hands together and added with his aged face,
“If you lend strength to her desires… the marriage will become a union beneficial to both parties. If that happens, without causing Miss Philone unnecessary wounds, on the day the nominal marriage ends, she will be able to sit in the place Your Highness desires. Without any disturbance.”
“The place I desire? Do you not think you are being presumptuous?”
“I apologize.”
“In any case, nothing can be known until I see this woman called Chloe in person.”
Having reached his conclusion, Killian slipped his arms into his coat. They were merciless words, but his expression had loosened compared to a moment ago.
“That man.”
“He was interrogated.”
After hesitating briefly, Benedict continued heavily.