This morning, Count Rinko had awoken in a foul mood the very moment he opened his eyes. It was because the late Duke had appeared in his dream, stared down at him for quite some time, then vanished.
“What rotten luck first thing in the morning.”
The Count did not believe in dreams or superstition. On any normal day, he would have forgotten such a dream the moment he rose from bed, but today, even seated in his office, that unpleasant chill would not recede. He couldn’t concentrate, and feeling discomfort in his stomach as well, he was about to rise from his seat when—
Hurried footsteps were heard. A chilling sensation, as if his heart had plummeted, spread throughout his entire body.
Unable to overcome the anxiety coiled around his heart, the Count dashed toward the door himself. He flung it wide open, and the man who had just raised his hand to knock started in fright and stumbled backward.
“M-Milord Count!”
“What is it?!”
He desperately hoped it would be something of no consequence, but the report that reached his ears was something he could not possibly ignore.
“All the finance superintendents have been summoned?!”
The Count sat back down at his desk with a stiff expression, and the nearby nobles, peering anxiously, cautiously asked.
“My Lord Count, what is the matter?”
“Have you found the missing documents?!!”
“We have just finished sorting. We are still searching……”
“Check if the recent quarterly financial documents are there! Quickly!”
Feeling a cold anxiety churn through his innards like a snake, he prayed that the missing documents were anything but those. But that damned dream had inevitably manifested as reality.
“They’re gone?”
“Yes. The consolidated financial documents for the recent quarter are missing.”
The documents with discrepancies were one matter; those responsible, five in number.
They must have each told different stories to shift blame onto one another. Once it was revealed that the documents were a complete mess, Walter would undoubtedly use this as a pretext to seize control of the finances.
The Count suppressed the urge to scream and wracked his brain desperately. He could not possibly hand this castle over to a greenhorn brat.
The Count summoned only the necessary personnel into a sealed room and commanded.
“Recreate the missing documents immediately. Attribute the discrepancies in the money to the names of the five people who were summoned by the Duke.”
“My Lord, that is……”
“This is a ploy by the Duke to expel all current finance personnel from the estate. If we do not do this, not only will you be driven from the estate, but you will have to cough up an enormous sum of money you’ve never even laid eyes upon. Is that what you want?”
He had to cut off the tail.
While the nobles who had received the Count’s secret orders desperately balanced the ledgers and shifted everyone’s guilt onto those five names, the Count pondered which of the five to kill and which to spare. Pinning the crime on all five entailed too much risk.
It was wisest to pile the guilt onto the single most useless and unhelpful person and sever them.
Yet, as ever in moments of crisis, the goddess of victory was on his side. While he was racking his brain, welcome news arrived from his wife.
“So, the Duke’s wench laid hands on the maid of Count Reuwen’s daughter, is that it?”
The chill receded, and delight surged forth.
The sheer audacity, acting so arrogantly banking on nothing but the hollow authority of the Duke. He could not be more grateful. For the Duke to have given such a woman a room in the Chandelier wing, the nobles would have no choice but to doubt his judgment.
“Send word to expel that insolent wench from the estate this instant.”
Let’s wait and see. If the situation unfolds this way, people’s attention would shift to the Duke and that wench, and this financial affair might just fizzle out.
But the hope that had sprouted atop his anxiety was short-lived; no sooner had it risen than news arrived to dash it.
“M-Milord Count! His Grace has summoned the estate’s security commander!”
“Why the security commander all of a sudden!!!”
“He holds him accountable for the maid confinement incident that occurred last night……”
“What?! What happened that the security commander would be summoned over that!!”
Unable to endure it any longer, the Count ran out to meet the Duke himself. But what was this? Wasn’t Count Reuwen, the security commander, walking from afar?! The Count rushed to the pale, vacant-looking Count and grabbed his arm.
“Are you alright? No, more importantly, what on earth did His Grace say to you?!”
“Oh, excuse me!”
The Count’s eyes creaked as they tracked the large young man who swept past his side. Joseph Rexton, who had overturned the office like a wild boar rummaging through a field, was walking away with an unmistakably buoyant stride. The problem was the thick stack of papers cradled in his arms.
“What is that man taking?”
The Count, a chill running down his spine, asked this with forced composure, and Count Reuwen bit his lip and answered.
“They are documents regarding the troops within the House of Richmond……”
“What?”
“I could not help it, Count. He said he could not trust the estate’s internal troops who knew nothing of the confinement incident……”
The Count wondered for a moment if this was not a dream. To think that the Duke, who had returned only yesterday, was already meddling with both finance and military, while he simply stood by and watched. As he blankly pieced together reality, the ghost of the late Duke flickered before his eyes, gazing down at him with dark eyes like the shadow of a fallen castle.
‘I trust you, Count Rinko.’
A voice, seemingly affectionate and gentle, scraped against his eardrums.
Jet-black hair and jet-black pupils, the back of the Duke seated atop a massive warhorse. Beyond his shoulders stretched the vast lands of Richmond.
‘Should anything happen to me, I entrust my mother and Walter to you.’
The Count started in alarm and ran toward his office as if fleeing. Then he took in everything in the office with his eyes, confirming it all. The desk the late Duke had used, the chair, and even a quill—every last thing was his.
Yes. It was all his.
His bloodshot eyes gleamed with a cold light. He feared no ghost. It was too late to turn back, nor could he give up.
“It is mine. Everything in this castle… it is all mine.”
The Count chewed over those words several times. The gloomy voice of a man who had once been wise dampened the dry air.
* * *
Lady Isaac finally understood what it meant for one’s insides to melt and rot with cold. Her head was burning hot, yet her stomach was frigid； it felt as though her entrails might rot away and plop right out.
“Are you saying this is the entirety of Her Grace’s budget?!”
Despite her voice boiling with anger, the Count’s maid retorted without batting an eye.
“It was drawn up to match the budget Her Grace used last quarter; what is the problem?”
“Last quarter’s budget was also inadequate!! At this rate, Her Grace cannot even properly purchase a gown for this winter. And you ask what the problem is!”
When Lady Isaac erupted in fury, the Count’s maid held back a spiteful smile.
“Well, I wouldn’t know, Lady Isaac. You hardly ever step foot outside the annex; do you truly need new clothes…… Haha, if you insist the budget is unsatisfactory, go and protest to the finance office. Though it would be best if Her Grace went herself, of course.”
“…….”
“Ah, by the way. How is Her Grace?”
When Lady Isaac’s expression hardened, the Count’s maid hid her mouth behind a fan and laughed. Perhaps it was an item imported from the East; the fan embroidered with exotic patterns sparkled in the sunlight.
“It has been quite some time since I have seen her, so I spoke out of concern. The Duke you longed for has returned, yet you do not rise. That is rather unexpected. Though these days, what isn’t unexpected?”
Leaving behind a mocking laugh, the Count’s maid sauntered away.
Over the past decade or so, the treatment had worsened by degrees, like clothes getting soaked in a drizzle. It was an exhausting task to remain by the side of a master who had surrendered her rights. Even reacting to each mockery was burdensome and tiring.
But she could not collapse either. Lady Isaac composed her disheveled face and straightened her back. Then she walked gracefully down the desolate, chilly corridor as if it were a corner of the imperial palace.
Eliza’s bedroom, the only place in the annex where any warmth lingered. Eliza was, surprisingly, awake.
“My Lady.”
Joy filled Lady Isaac’s heart, and she quickly went to Eliza. Though she was sitting propped up at an angle against the bed, compared to how she always lay prone, it was a sight welcome enough to bring delight.
“Why is it so noisy?”
To the languid question, Lady Isaac promptly answered.
“The Countess’s maid came by.”
A cautious hope raised its head in Lady Isaac’s heart. For Eliza, who had been stagnant like trapped water, to rise on her own and even remark on the noise—perhaps she might ask why the Countess’s maid had come.
But, cruelly, Eliza merely made a gaunt gesture toward the sunlit window.
“Draw the curtains. I must sleep some more.”
“…….”
Lady Isaac had not wept even when the news of the late Duke’s death was delivered. But now she wanted to wail at the top of her lungs. If only she would ask why the Countess’s maid had come, how the estate was faring—if she would only do that, Lady Isaac was prepared to slowly recount all that had transpired.
“What are you doing, Arwen. I said draw the curtains.”
But Lady Isaac could not disobey Eliza’s command. Even as she withered away alongside her master, she could only pray, again and again, for her to awaken.
Yet as Lady Isaac drew the curtains with heavy hands, they stopped in midair. Her eyes trembled slightly.
Along the path leading through the rear garden, a man and a woman were approaching the annex.