CHAPTER 74…………….
At that moment, Agathe entered the office.
When I saw what was in her hand, I stopped breathing.
“Is that… a letter for me?”
I have a phobia of letters.
After the constant string of shocks I’d experienced recently, even seeing something that resembled a letter made all the hairs on my body stand on end.
“I ran into a messenger from the Dinero family on the way in, so I brought it.”
“Phew…”
I sighed in relief and clutched at my chest.
If it was from the old man, surely it wasn’t anything terrible.
But the moment I unfolded the letter carelessly, I immediately retracted that thought.
Outstanding repayment balance including principal + 20% annual interest: 30,500,000 gold.
Dinelle Trading Company.
‘I’ll give you a discount—half off the original interest.’
The old fox’s voice echoed in my head.
Looking down, I found more written beneath the letter.
Withdrawal of the contract is impossible. If you flee abroad before repaying the principal (including 20% interest), we will mobilize all our hidden agents throughout the empire to pursue you. Take caution!
“Lisa, is it possible to refund a noble title?”
“No, it isn’t.”
Her blunt honesty made me clutch my head in despair.
A life of leisure and indulgence? That dream was clearly impossible now.
Meanwhile, inside the study at Duke Dinero’s estate—
“Someone must be cursing me; my ears are itching.”
Duke Dinero chuckled as if it were nothing and sipped his tea.
“What’s the state of that girl’s household finances? Including Countess Jacqueline’s treasury.”
At his question, his aide René Émile reported:
“After estimating everything that could be liquidated, she holds about ten million gold.”
“I see.”
The Duke sipped his tea again.
Watching him, Émile hesitantly spoke.
“But, Your Grace…”
Nervously, he adjusted his glasses.
He had served the Duke for over fifteen years, never once questioning his decisions. They had always been rational and reasonable.
“But why did you lend the Countess thirty million gold?”
For the first time, he harbored doubt.
“Even if the interest rate is halved, the principal is so large that it will be nearly impossible for her to repay it on her own.”
“Not nearly impossible. Utterly impossible.”
The Duke replied calmly.
“…Yes. To be frank, I agree.”
Émile nodded. His master was clearly aware of it, which only deepened the mystery.
Émile also knew full well that Clemence was the Duke’s chosen successor.
So why bury her under a mountain of debt?
Sensing his doubts, the Duke smiled wickedly.
“It’s the final test I’m giving her.”
And with that, as if he had nothing more to say, the Duke picked up a cookie.
During a tea time with the Dowager Empress, Duke Penelope revealed his irritation.
“She’s become such an eyesore. Like a splinter.”
He had been generous enough to wait an entire month, only to be told by Countess Jacqueline that the fighter jet project had failed due to ‘technical defects.’
With decades of political experience in noble society, he knew immediately it was a ruse to buy time and avoid the Emperor’s wrath.
That wench is just like that sly old fox.
From the start, she had no intention of agreeing to the project.
And he, Penelope, the real power behind the throne, had given her the chance to stand by his side.
Yet she arrogantly threw away that golden opportunity.
“Perhaps we should kill the successor first.”
The Dowager Empress merely stirred her tea with elegance, saying nothing.
Despite being well past fifty, she looked unbelievably youthful—indeed, she seemed to grow younger with each passing year.
At last, she spoke:
“Rohan, if even you, Duke, couldn’t touch that girl… how could we possibly harm her?”
Her words made him sigh with fury.
She was right.
“…We should have crushed that old man when we had the chance.”
Duke Penelope’s eyes blazed.
Yes.
The only reason that girl dared to stand so boldly was because she had someone powerful behind her—
Georg Dinero.
That damned, thousand-year-old serpent!
Just the thought of his face made the Duke’s neck stiffen with rage.
Twenty years ago, when he heard Dinero was investing in Countess Jacqueline’s transportation business, he had scoffed.
Trade? Commerce?
That a high noble would stoop to running wagons like common peddlers was laughable.
But when Duke Dinero got involved, Tara Transport, which had been in Jacqueline’s hands for centuries, exploded in scale.
Using vast capital, he extended rail lines into the provinces, distributing crops and specialties across the empire.
The enriched local lords pledged loyalty to Duke Dinero out of deep gratitude.
By the time Duke Penelope realized, it was too late. His sweet words and bribes could not sway them. The provincial lords were too conservative to shift allegiance once given.
Murderous intent flickered in his pale-blue eyes.
“We must act now, no matter what it takes.”
And those retired professors loyal to the Duke gnawed at his nerves as well.
If only Duke Dinero were removed, everything would be solved.
“Rohan, the only reason you haven’t killed him yet is not for lack of trying, is it?”
Her graceful smile concealed a sharp rebuke.
The Duke scowled in silence, unable to reply.
He had indeed planted assassins and even tried poison, but all had failed.
His fatal mistake had been underestimating Dinero as a mere commoner who’d climbed to nobility through financial cunning alone.
The only small success was against Countess Jacqueline. Eliminating her daughter should be child’s play.
Killing a squirrel with no tree to hide in couldn’t be that difficult.
If only Duke Dinero didn’t exist.
His eyes burned with hatred.
Watching him, the Dowager Empress’s smile deepened.
“Have you heard? Luce Cornell recently retired.”
The Duke remembered instantly who that was, and a cruel smile curved his lips.
“Thank you for the information, Your Majesty.”
“This time, don’t try to succeed in one stroke,”
she said slowly, raising her teacup.
“Why not plant a talented gardener in the Duke’s estate?”
A gardener whose skillful weeds would one day choke the entire mansion.
Her cruel smile hid behind the teacup.
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
On the frontlines, the imperial army finally had a brief respite from battle.
Around Lennox, the soldiers began talking.
“Did you hear? The fighter jet project failed.”
“What’s a fighter jet?”
“You know, that flying machine Tara Transport was developing. The higher-ups wanted it modified for war.”
“Wouldn’t that have been useful?”
“You idiot, think it through. What happens if they make it?”
An older soldier put a hand on their shoulders and joined in.
“Even now, our superiors send us charging recklessly into enemy lines to be annihilated. Imagine them attacking from the sky where you can’t even tell friend from foe.”
“Yikes… thank goodness it failed!”
“Shh, true, but that’s not something to shout about.”
“So why did it fail?”
“The inventor refused to cooperate.”
Gasps spread through the group.
“Who was it?”
Lennox, sitting on the dirt at the edge of the formation, finally spoke for the first time.
“Clemence Jacqueline.”
The soldiers murmured.
“Huh? Who’s that?”
“Isn’t that the inventor’s name?”
“Sounds like a woman’s name.”
“I’ve heard of her too. Isn’t she the new Countess Jacqueline?”
Lennox said nothing more, only stared down at his own fingers.
