From the fiercely blazing inferno came the aroma of perfectly baked bread. It was because wheat was surrendering its bodies to the flames.
The man who threw another bundle of wheat into the fire finally spat out a curse.
"How long do we have to do this mad work? Why burn perfectly good wheat? We'd be better off feeding it to the pigs."
At that, the man beside him trembled as if seized by a fit and glared.
"You want to die? Lower your voice!"
"So this is how the Taylors end. Ever since the late Duke and Duchess passed so suddenly, doom has befallen this house."
"Quietly, quietly!"
"They've racked up debts everywhere, using most of the wheat to pay them off, and now this on top of it. To think a ducal house with such a long history would fall in less than ten years."
The man, who had been anxiously looking about, also finally shook his head slightly and muttered.
"...They say that instead of burning all this wheat, they get money from somewhere."
"If wheat decreases, prices go up, so it's a profitable business. But I wonder if they know this is tantamount to treason."
"..."
"At least I thought there might be a ray of hope since our Lady Grace is still alive."
The man threw the last remaining bundles of wheat into the flames as if discarding them, then let out a deep, long sigh.
"Well. She's not a young lord but a young lady. They just need to marry her off and send her away."
In the end, the man's eyes grew red.
"Still... to think her partner is a notorious madman even among commoners like us. Isn't it too much?"
"Wait and see. Our lady must have a plan."
The men standing before the massive flames turned their gazes simultaneously in the same direction. There stood the grand and majestic Taylor Ducal Castle. The thick darkness hanging over the castle felt terribly desolate and sorrowful.
Just like that night thirteen years ago, when the late Duke and Duchess met their sudden, mysterious deaths.
* * *
"Mother!! How do I look?"
Emma Taylor, Duchess of Taylor, who had been reclining lazily while having her nails done, lifted her eyes. Her daughter, Rosette Taylor, was looking in the mirror, swaying her shoulders back and forth while wearing a splendid pink dress.
"You are beautiful, my lady."
"Right?"
Lady Cornwall, who had been waiting nearby, praised Rosette in a gentle tone, but the Duchess looked her daughter up and down and spoke indifferently.
"That's enough flattery. You are far more beautiful without trying so hard."
Rosette's brow, which had been studying the mirror intently, hardened stiffly. She whirled toward her mother and complained.
"I want to stand out the most at the wedding."
"Don't worry. You will shine the brightest that day as well."
Lady Cornwall soothed Rosette gently, but the young lady opened the red jewelry box on the table with a sulky expression. Inside were such rare jewels that even Rosette, a daughter of House Taylor, would gasp in awe.
"Grace, is it even fitting for that unremarkable girl to receive such jewels?"
Even knowing they were wedding gifts from the groom's family to the bride, Rosette felt nothing but anger and resentment. As the star of the day, it was only natural for the bride to stand out the most at the wedding, but she couldn't sleep at the thought of all the nobles' attention turning to Grace.
The Duchess let out a short laugh at her daughter's childish complaints and dismissed the maids doing her nails. Then she examined her finely decorated nails and spoke softly.
"Then shall you marry Young Count Saxon instead of Grace?"
At her mother's question, Rosette jumped in surprise and shook her head violently.
"Mother!"
"Yes. My daughter must never marry such a person. He has six known bastards and notoriously bad habits, from what I hear. So at least for tomorrow, show Grace some generosity."
As if that weren't enough. By custom, the wedding was to be held in the bride's territory, so the Count Saxon family was currently residing at Taylor Ducal Castle. Jack Saxon, the young count, was said to not only make passes at the maids here but even lay hands on them at times. More than ten servants and maids had already been struck and left crying while attending him.
Emma thought of Grace Taylor, the spitting image of the late Duchess, and smiled viciously.
"By marrying Grace to such a man, our debt to the Saxons disappears, doesn't it?"
The House of Saxon not only refused a dowry but also agreed to forgive the massive debt House Taylor owed them. That unprecedented treatment also showed what a headache the mad young count had been.
Anyway, from House Taylor's standpoint, not only was the burden of debt lifted, but they would also have the House of Saxon—the Empress's natal family—as their backer, so selling off Grace meant reaping a great profit.
Still, Rosette pouted and muttered.
"It's proper repayment for being raised by Mother and Father until now."
"Of course it is."
The Duchess stood up and patted her daughter's shoulder.
"So enough fussing about the jewels."
"...I understand."
After sending Rosette back to her room, the Duchess walked down the corridor flickering with lamplight with lighter steps than ever. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and squared her shoulders.
Thirteen years ago, the late Duke and Duchess of Taylor had departed the world together. They had only one young daughter, and by imperial custom, a daughter could not inherit the house unless she married and ruled alongside her husband.
With the house lacking an heir, the collateral branches who had been loyal to the late Duke also died one after another under mysterious circumstances. Thanks to that, the Dukedom of Taylor passed to John and Emma, who had held only a humble barony.
How she had trembled on the first day she stepped into this castle, feeling as if nothing was hers. But Emma, having become the new Duchess, soon changed her mind.
This house was destined to become hers from the very beginning.
Emma Taylor had the portraits of the late Duke and Duchess removed and moved to a damp warehouse, and had everyone who missed them expelled from the house.
She had wanted to erase all memory of the previous generation from this house. She had wanted to make it seem as if she had been the master of all this from the start.
"You've come."
Grace, who had been reviewing the family documents even on the day before the wedding, rose from her seat with a calm demeanor.
Grace Taylor.
The only bloodline left by the late Duke, and the 'real' Taylor.
The day she first met Grace, Emma knew she would never be able to love the girl. The people of the Duchy of Taylor revered the late Duke and Duchess so much that they loved and cherished Grace more than her own daughter. Grace Taylor was a trace of the late Duke and Duchess that could not be erased no matter how much they tried.
But today was the last of that too. In the end, all of this was hers, not Grace's.
The Duchess spoke with a kind expression.
"His Grace has chosen a groom for you who is more than you deserve."
"..."
"The gifts are truly beautiful."
Grace, who had been looking down slightly, raised her eyes. Emma Taylor faced those fresh green eyes, slowly approached, and stood across the desk covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed.
"So even if your husband brings home bastards, even if he sometimes hits you, endure it. You may think life couldn't get worse than this, but what can you do? The only thing you can do is endure. And that's something you're quite good at, aren't you?"
The vicious malice mixed with her smile grew thicker and thicker.
"Once married, you are an outsider. Never think of asking House Taylor for help for as long as you live. Don't act recklessly and tarnish the family name, just endure. If you endure for about twenty years like that, you'll have the title of Lady of House Saxon."
That is, if you can survive that hell until then.
"Anyway, live well."
After elegantly pouring out curses disguised as words, the Duchess turned away.
The reason she had so hated young Grace was that despite being only ten years old, the girl exuded the dignity of a high noble that Emma, even after becoming Duchess, could not possess.
Even now. That shamelessly impassive and aloof expression. Emma Taylor shook her head as if a chill ran down her spine and left the room.
Grace stared at the spot where the Duchess had disappeared, then met eyes with Lady Cornwall, the head maid. The two looked at each other silently for a moment. Soon Lady Cornwall also left the room, and Grace turned her gaze to the neatly organized stacks of documents on the desk.
Surprisingly, she had been inundated with countless documents regarding the ducal house's finances and territory management that rightfully the head of the house should handle.
The current Duke of Taylor, John Taylor, who was little more than a baron in name only, lacked the ability to lead this massive and historic house. The reason he had driven out all those loyal to the late Duke yet couldn't expel some retainers was also because he had no way to process all these documents. He didn't even have the mind to learn.
Not only the Duke, but the Duchess, the young duke, and even the young lady were only obsessed with squandering the massive power and wealth of Taylor after suddenly acquiring it, paying no attention whatsoever to the house affairs.
But it was impossible for a few retainers alone to handle all the affairs of the ducal house. The person who learned by their side and actually processed all the business requiring the house head's decision was Grace.
Just as Grace was about to sit back down.
"My lady, my lady!!"
A maid came running to Grace looking like she was about to faint.
"What is it?!"
At the same time as her question, a scream that sounded like it would tear through the air came from somewhere. The maid cried out in a tearful voice.
"Young Count Saxon has... to Jessie...!"