IBWHK 07

~Chapter 7~

I only meant to repay with service—no, to fulfill my duty through honest labor… not to bleed myself dry.

Most noblewomen sought to win the people’s hearts through the easiest, most comfortable method—donations.
But I had chosen to come in person.

Because this time, I wanted to protect the wealth I had finally earned.
Each coin was dear to me—so dear that giving them away felt like cutting off a piece of my own flesh.
Perhaps others wouldn’t see it that way, but I did.

Calm down… breathe…

With trembling hands, I removed the jeweled pins from my hair.
Next came the necklace and brooch.
Even the small pouch of my beloved gold coins—companions I often carried just to admire—was reluctantly drawn from my sleeve.

Though I had come dressed plainly for “charitable service,” the thought of parting with all this still made my chest ache and my eyes sting.

Born selfish, I couldn’t help but feel the sting of loss, even for a good cause.

I stopped a passing friar and handed over the jewelry and coins, my hands shaking.

“Use these to buy medicine and bandages at once. It’s all I have on me.”

I turned my face away, blinking rapidly to hold back tears.
If I had to play the benevolent angel, then I refused to do it alone.

“Baron Comte—do you have any money with you?”
“M-Me, My Lady?”

I couldn’t die alone; misery deserved company.
But the baron, infuriatingly perceptive, immediately caught my drift and shook his head.

“Ah, alas! I have nothing on me at present!”
“…”

My eyes narrowed.

That bulging waistline couldn’t all be fat.
He lasted only a few seconds under my gaze before letting out a strangled sob and handing over his heavy silver pouch.

Now that we were both “charity angels,” I felt a little better.

“Will this suffice to put out the worst of the fire?”
“My Lady, thank you! This will easily cover the miners’ medical costs.”
“Good. But if it isn’t enough, don’t hesitate to send word to the castle. Ask for a man named Bertol.”

Bertol—the Lombard household’s chief steward.
Meaning, of course, that any additional donations would come straight from the Duke’s private coffers.

The duchy might provide official relief funds later, but it would be a waste to let only me bleed dry—no, better if we all became charity angels together.

Farewell, my sweet coins…

My lovely golden companions were gone—never to return.

Even as tears welled up, I noticed the strange looks around me.
Their eyes said it all:

“She’s… not quite like the rumors, is she?”

The adrenaline from the crisis had faded, and I was once again tossed into the cold grasp of reality.

Memories flashed of the Iron Maiden I’d once seen in an inquisitor’s chamber—the screams from within, the dull clang of the lid, the blood pooling at its base.

A chill crawled down my spine.
Suddenly, survival—not charity—was my top priority.

What, am I supposed to throw a tantrum now?

Amid dying patients and blood-soaked bandages?
It didn’t feel right—nor possible.

Even I wasn’t heartless enough to play the villain in a place like this.

I was inwardly panicking over how to act when I heard shouting nearby.

“Tie it down! Hurry!”
“Whine, whimper—!”

A group of men were struggling to lash a large dog to a cart.

Something inside me snapped.

Humans. You miserable, wretched creatures—how dare you hurt something so pure and adorable?!

And then, as if to test my limits, one of them raised a whip when the dog resisted.

“Do you want to die?! You filthy, rotten, worthless bastards!!”

The words flew straight from my mouth before my brain could stop them.
I lunged, and it took the baron’s full strength to restrain me.

“My Lady, please! You look less like a kind mistress who loves animals and more like a raging berserker!”

But I wasn’t done.

“Touch that dog again and I’ll break every limb you have!”

The workers froze in terror, immediately freeing the frightened animal and bowing frantically.

“Good gods, what a terrifying display of authority…”
“Guess the rumors weren’t entirely wrong after all.”

I heard the whispers but ignored them.

If my “tantrum” saved one innocent creature, then so be it.

By sunset, the chaos had finally begun to settle.

The physicians from the inner wall, who had rushed here under my relentless glare, worked tirelessly.
Thanks to their effort—and the “donations” from me and the baron—the infirmary was restocked with medicine and clean bandages.

There were still many who needed overnight care, but at least the worst had passed.

I’m going to die from exhaustion…

My body felt like it had been wrung dry.
My carefully pinned hair hung loose, my once-elegant dress was caked with dust and blood, and sweat clung to me like a second skin.

I looked nothing like a duchess—but somehow, I felt lighter.

If I hadn’t come, this place would’ve repeated history.

Back then, Father Filio had borne all the blame for the miners’ deaths, and the monks had lived haunted by guilt they didn’t deserve.

So this is the power of authority.

A single command, a flick of a finger—and everything moved.

Once, I had stayed up all night drafting reports that no one ever read. Now, one word from me changed everything.

Drunk on that sweetness, I was still smiling faintly when someone approached.

“My Lady, are you all right?”

It was Joseph, the novice from the monastery.
With a worried face, he offered me a rough wooden cup.

“You’ve been trembling… I think it’s exhaustion. You should drink some water.”

I glanced up—and saw the others peeking nervously from behind him.
He must have come on their behalf.

Flustered, I quickly composed myself and accepted the cup.

“Ahem. It’s not trembling, but… thank you.”
“Y-Yes, My Lady!”

At the simple word thank you, his face lit up like dawn.

The townsfolk are worrying about me?

Unthinkable—if it had been the real Elicia.
She’d have been lucky not to be stoned for setting foot in the clinic.

As I turned the cup in my hands, Joseph spoke again, his voice trembling.

“I-I’m sorry! The monastery’s poor, so our cups are all rough and old. It may not be fit for someone like you…”
“No, thank you. You were thoughtful.”

The cup was plain but uncracked, carefully chosen.
The baron muttered that I shouldn’t drink anything from unknown sources, but I ignored him and drank.

“That was refreshing. Thank you, truly.”

I smiled as I handed it back, and for some reason, Joseph’s ears turned bright red.
Maybe it was just the glow of the sunset streaming through the window.

“I should head back. Baron, have the carriage—”

But when I stood, my legs gave way.

Joseph reached toward me, but a stronger arm caught me first.

“Such passion, my lady. To throw yourself into my arms the moment we meet again—it’s a bit overwhelming.”

That cursed voice—

I looked up, scowling, already searching for holy water to pour into my ears.

The Duke stood before me, clad in heavy armor, fresh from the northern wall.
Of course he’d come; word of such a disaster would’ve reached him immediately.

I just hadn’t expected him personally.

He gazed down at my disheveled state—mud-stained gown, tangled hair, tired eyes—and his expression shifted faintly.

“I heard you were caught up in the clinic’s troubles,” he said evenly. “Seems it was more serious than I thought.”
“Your sarcasm is impressive as ever.”
“That wasn’t sarcasm.”

I brushed his hand off, perhaps more sharply than necessary.
I knew I was being petty, but I couldn’t help it.

Fed, safe, alive… and still, I can’t forgive you.

Because no matter how I tried to bury it, I remembered too clearly.

The heat of the iron brand. The stench of burning flesh. Elicia’s triumphant voice…

‘How did you get the Duke’s ring?’
‘See for yourself—it’s his, the symbol of the Lombard line. Do you know what that means? He gave you to me.’
‘That’s impossible. The Duke—Edwin—would never…’
‘Shut up! Between a lowborn clerk and the honor of the Lombards, which do you think he chose?!’

The ring bearing Lombard’s crest—worn only by its Duke—had been in Elicia’s hand.
No one could have stolen it from Edwin; he had given it to her himself.

Meaning he had authorized her to do whatever she wished to me.
He had sacrificed me to protect the family’s honor.

He knew my loyalty. One word from him could have spared me…

But he said nothing.
And in silence, he let me burn.

That betrayal had hurt more deeply than any flame.

Of course… that was in the past.

Snapping back to the present, I briskly wiped the spot his hand had touched.

It was a petty insult—but the Duke merely looked around, unbothered.

His gaze lingered on the clinic, narrowing as he took in how swiftly order had been restored.
Especially on the inner-wall physicians, who, despite their exhaustion, kept glancing at me as if terrified.

If he wasn’t careful, he might realize that I was far more competent than he thought.

So I spoke first.

“Ever heard the saying, ‘The law is distant, but the fist is near’?”

He blinked.

“Fists make the impossible possible,” I continued smoothly. “They turn inefficiency into order. Keep that in mind, Your Grace.”
“M-My Lord! That’s not—My Lady was only—”
“Shh.”

I silenced Joseph with a glare before he could explain, then shrugged.

“My work here is done. The rest is yours to handle.”

With that, I spun on my heel and strode out before he could reply.

Outside, my coachman bowed deeply, rubbing his hands like a fly on glass.
Baron Comte truly knew how to find kindred spirits.

“Where’s the carriage?”
“The front’s a mess, My Lady. I moved it to the rear courtyard—didn’t want to risk scratching such a fine coach.”
“Fetch it. I want to return to the manor at once.”

Before the Duke followed me out.

The coachman understood perfectly and ran off.

Gods, it’s freezing.

Lombard was always cold, but now that the sun had set, the air cut like knives.
My body ached, my fingers numb; patience was a luxury I’d already spent.

I stamped my feet to keep warm, watching my breath fog in the dark—until a long shadow fell across me.