Chapter – 29
“Don’t tell me you’re asking me to marry you.”
Considering all the suitors lined up above us.
At my words, Jeanne looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“We can’t get married. We’re cousins.”
…That’s the issue here?
“But I need to escape from Herotia as soon as possible. You’ve probably noticed already, but Herotia right now is nothing more than a sandcastle built on a mountain of debt.”
Well. I had a rough idea.
Since Catherine ruined multiple business ventures during the duke’s lifetime—draining not only Herotia’s funds but also Mesena’s—there was no way she had the money to buy this castle.
Meaning everything here must’ve been bought on debt.
“But I have an inheritance my grandfather left me when he died. My mother doesn’t know about it.”
“……!”
That was unexpected. That the Duke of Mesena left an inheritance to Jeanne, who was only a collateral relative.
“No need to make that face. It’s not much.”
“Still, it means he trusted you, doesn’t it?”
Jeanne’s expression became unreadable.
“What good is the trust of that old geezer? All it makes me is the princess of a fallen house.”
Old geezer.
It didn’t seem she held a good opinion of the late duke.
Understandable. In the original novel, he was a loyal family head… but the one I met here was merely a child abuser who locked his granddaughter away.
People have two faces, after all.
“Anyway. I’ve been looking for a place to invest that money. And today I watched your play…”
Jeanne wore an ecstatic expression, as though savoring a fine dish.
“It was entertaining. Not an easy feat to satisfy my aesthetic tastes.”
“That’s because I made it. When it comes to art, I’m better than you.”
I replied calmly.
Jeanne accepted it without hesitation this time too.
“Right. You are a brilliant artist. Which is why I’m telling you this—soon, the Global Theater is going up for auction at a bargain price. You know what kind of place the Global Theater is, right?”
I nodded.
Of course I knew.
It belonged to Baron Jean Pierre, who used the pseudonym Molière White, and it was the stage he performed on himself.
The most famous theater in the Empire, with the largest audience turnout.
Of course, after Molière suddenly retired, its visitors dwindled sharply and it fell into bankruptcy.
Looks like it’s already gone bankrupt at this point in time.
“I’m thinking of buying it. I’ve been planning this business for a while.”
So that’s why the proposal came so quickly.
“And I want to put you in as the de facto director of that theater.”
Her words were intriguing.
In short, Jeanne wanted to steal me away from White Friars.
“You’re telling me to abandon the count.”
“Abandon is too harsh. The two of you have simply outlived your usefulness to each other. He used you at the theater to cover his losses, and you restored your reputation thanks to him… Isn’t this the perfect time to part ways?”
She wasn’t wrong.
I’d planned to propose breaking off the engagement after Romeo and Juliet for the same reason.
He’d served his purpose, and I’d served mine.
But—
“There must be a price for breaking faith.”
An artist who betrays trust is condemned.
People demand far higher morality from artists than businessmen. So if I betray the count, it’ll damage my reputation.
Jeanne must’ve known this; she must’ve prepared compensation.
“You owe the count a debt, right? He’s quick with calculations—you didn’t think he helped clean up your mess out of charity, did you?”
Accurate.
Jeanne wasn’t as sharp as me, but she was quick.
“I’ll pay back all that debt.”
“……!”
It was a substantial amount.
The money I got from selling Mesena’s assets had all gone to paying off the duchy’s other creditors.
Meaning the debt to the count was nearly untouched.
The count had insisted we only discuss the breakup after I cleared the debt, which made my future look bleak.
‘And now she’s offering to clear it in an instant.’
It was an incredible deal.
“And one more thing. I’m going to run the Global Theater as a private venue. No more letting just anyone walk in and watch plays. After watching your work today, I realized—your art suits nobles. Plays created with exquisite taste, meant for a refined elite willing to pay for it. I’ll let you make that.”
In other words, she wouldn’t spare investment.
Truly generous terms.
“In that case—”
“Yeah—”
“I refuse.”
“?”
Jeanne stared at me in disbelief.
“Why?”
Why? Well…
Honestly, it was too good to refuse.
But there was a problem.
“I like public theaters. I want more people to see my plays.”
“……!”
She looked stunned.
She must’ve thought those words could never come out of my mouth—Louisa, who supposedly hated breathing the same air as commoners.
“Amazing… really.”
Her expression twisted slightly. But soon she regained composure.
“Then we can make it public if that’s what you want—”
“And of course, there’s another reason.”
I looked straight at her.
“That ‘little money’ you mentioned… it didn’t all come from your grandfather, did it?”
Jeanne flinched.
Naturally. The conditions she offered couldn’t possibly be covered with that so-called “little” inheritance.
Meaning she siphoned money from the household.
“If you stole money from Herotia, the source is obvious.”
Kalinin.
In the original, the current emperor lends Herotia money and manipulates them.
That’s why Herotia had to flee the country the moment Leo took the throne.
In short, Herotia’s money source is rotten and unreliable.
If politics shift or Kalinin miscalculates, Herotia collapses instantly.
Knowing this, Jeanne wanted to use the cultural sector to launder the money.
‘At least she’s perceptive.’
But with a death flag hanging over me, I had no intention of offending the next emperor.
I couldn’t say that outright, so I answered lightly:
“I won’t take that kind of money. Not even to betray the count.”
“Ha.”
Jeanne laughed as though she found it amusing. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.
“…I understand.”
She pointed to the necklace around my neck.
“You’re betting on the count, then?”
Well, not exactly betting, but—
Seeing me hesitate, Jeanne continued:
“Maybe the count truly cares about you. He did put the late countess’s keepsake around your neck, after all.”
A keepsake?
I froze but tried not to show it.
‘So he lied about buying a diamond mine.’
Why lie?
Could it be—
“You never know. Arno Dience might be the type to marry for love.”
Love…?
I grimaced.
The next morning, as soon as I woke up, I realized:
‘I didn’t wake in the morning…’
I’d woken at noon.
Thanks to the blackout curtains the count installed, I’d slept without noticing the time.
And as I went downstairs to have lunch with him, I realized something else.
“You’ve slept for two full days.”
So it wasn’t even the next day.
cough! “C-cough…!”
I coughed, frowning. My whole body felt sluggish.
I hadn’t done anything particularly exhausting— I’d taken great care of my voice all month for the play. So this must be—
‘My mental energy hit zero.’
Being trapped in that dark, cramped place had brought back memories I didn’t want. And on top of that, Leo had shown up and dropped that bombshell.
‘I honestly thought I was going to die.’
Even now, the thought made me shudder. The count furrowed his brows when he saw me trembling.
“I’ll just go upstairs and eat. You’ll catch my cold.”
“That’s not a cold.”
He answered firmly, impeccably dressed as always.
“So sit down and eat.”
“How would you know…?”
He sighed and put down his fork.
“How many hours have you slept per day this past month?”
How many? I hadn’t counted.
But roughly—I slept at dawn and woke at 10…
“Maybe four hours?”
Arno let out a dry laugh.
“And how many meals per day?”
“Two…? Sometimes one.”
“Weekly exercise under sunlight?”
“No idea.”
“Zero hours.”
He sounded irritated now.
Had he been watching me go outside—or not go outside—this whole time?
I felt oddly taken aback. But Arno clicked his tongue.
“Irregular sleep, poor diet, no exercise. What about that looks like a cold? You’ve simply collapsed from lack of stamina. Eat the meat. Exercise. Sleep properly.”
Only then did I understand the steak in front of me.
“So you’re feeding me meat first thing in the morning?”
“It’s noon, not morning. And I didn’t feed you; I told you to eat.”
Same thing.
My head throbbed—not from fatigue, but from what Jeanne had said the other day.
Love.
I looked at Arno’s cold, expressionless face.
No one in love would look like that.
I lowered my gaze to the steak.
Although… steak could be love…?
The idea of the count loving me—was that beneficial, or not?
‘My head hurts.’
Then—
“In precisely 15 minutes, I have to leave. So stop talking and eat. You have to go out too, don’t you? I’ll escort you.”
“Me? Why?”
“The audition. I had Alfredo post the notices everywhere. Did you already forget?”
Ah. Right.
Sleeping two days made me forget completely.
Today was the Kingsman Troupe audition.
The moment he said it, my complicated mind cleared.
Molière White.
Would he come?
My eyes brightened, and the count muttered:
“That’s the brightest expression you’ve had while eating.”
But my anticipation shattered the moment the first auditionee walked in.
With clear eyes and an unreadable smile, the woman beamed at me.
“Long time no see, Lady.”
I stared blankly.
The first auditionee was none other than the female lead—Ilena Burbidge.
“Long time? Hasn’t it been only two days?”
“Two days felt like two years.”
She smiled shyly but her eyes didn’t smile at all.
Chills ran down my spine.
