<Episode 18>
“I’ve no idea. From the looks of it, she won’t forget him easily.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a fool who pretends to be clever.”
Smiling faintly, Giselle summarized her thoughts.
“So—what I mean is—we need to take good care of Irenne, so she can finally let go of the Crown Prince.”
Let go, they said.
If Irenne had heard that, she would have come down with a fit of rage, but unfortunately she was not present…
And so, in their collective imagination, she became a devoted, pitiable pushover who had been used by the Crown Prince—and who still could not forget that bastard, leaving her sunk in melancholy.
The fact that Irenne had attacked the Crown Prince with the intent to kill, and that he was still clinging to life, was considered largely irrelevant.
“I’ll make sure to slit that bastard’s throat one day.”
Ellie’s eyes flashed with an icy, murderous gleam.
Her vow was somewhat beside the point, but that too hardly mattered.
Strange.
“…What are you all doing?”
“Reading, obviously. Reading.”
Nishe answered without shame—his legs propped rudely on the desk—holding a book titled Killing an Unfaithful Husband.
It didn’t even look like he was reading properly. He just kept noisily flipping pages and throwing in weird ad-libs.
“Wow, that’s right. Trash like this should be thrown away without hesitation. Forgetting him quickly is the best thing for your mental health.”
See? Just like that.
He emphasized certain words oddly—as if someone specific were meant to hear it. And judging by the atmosphere, that someone seemed to be me, though I couldn’t fathom why he was behaving that way.
A few handspans away, Ellie sat primly in her chair, reading aloud in a steady, crisp tone:
“I will never again allow myself to be used by you, you cowardly piece of filth.”
“…”
She had a book titled Foundations of Vengeance open before her.
Every three minutes she recited a line like that, then flicked her gaze toward me. I had absolutely no idea what any of it meant.
And thus, the quiet library that Juanxi—ever the workaholic—and I shared for our studies became inexplicably noisy.
It used to be so easy to focus.
This fortress, unlike the ducal estate, had no dedicated workshop for me. The room I used now had a desk, but it was fundamentally a bedroom—an inconvenient environment.
The library suited me perfectly.
Naturally, as a veteran butler’s workspace, it was spacious, comfortable, and serenely quiet—its only sound the soft scratching of his pen.
…Until yesterday.
“Juanxi. Aren’t you going to kick them out?”
“I lack that authority. And they are not troubling me.”
“Oh really, Mister Butler? Wasn’t it you who once said my mere presence here disturbed your work?”
“I do not recall ever saying such a thing.”
Sssk, sssk!
Juanxi was, as usual, processing an impossible mountain of documents at incredible speed, shadows thick across his face.
Seeing that, I couldn’t bring myself to complain further. Instead, I turned my irritation toward Nishe and Ellie.
“Libraries are for quiet reading. You know that, right? Keep your voices down.”
“Tsk, you really don’t know anything, do you? Reading aloud is more effective.”
“What? Are you studying with that book? Memorizing something?”
What utter nonsense.
My retort seemed to offend him, for Nishe scrunched his face in annoyance.
“…Don’t you feel anything?”
“Feel what? I’m busy, don’t disturb me.”
“Aren’t you… moved? Don’t the words sound like they’re talking about you? Don’t you feel like, oh, this is how I should live?”
“Not really.”
“Ha. You’re a real fool.”
“Why are you insulting me out of nowhere? People as smart as I am are rare.”
Intricate magical formulae, advanced mana calculations—none of that could be done without a sharp mind.
Even amid this chaos, I quickly drafted the spell pattern for a new magic tool.
A vacuum cleaner, perhaps.
A brilliant device to suck up the stale dust clogging this damp old fortress. Strange that I’d live to design such a thing.
Magic tools were usable even by non-mages; the most expensive and popular ones were amulets loaded with defensive spells.
And the top-selling magic tool was one I had designed. My specialty. My business… or it had been.
Tch. Should’ve put my name on the trademark.
Since everything was produced and distributed under the family name, the rights and profits from my earlier inventions belonged to the house.
Back then, Valtres had been equivalent to me, so I hadn’t thought much of it… but the more I dwell on it, the more disgustingly wasteful it feels.
Even now they were prospering thanks to my work?
“Hah, I really should’ve gone for Chesire harder. Should’ve taken everything worth taking before leaving…”
If I’d had even a sliver more leeway, I would have snatched one of the family’s pillars and fled the country.
Might’ve even stolen some heirlooms while I was at it.
“…”
“…”
I was lost in thought when I realized something was terribly off. Even Juanxi’s pen had stopped.
Three pairs of eyes were fixed on me with the expression of people who had far too much to say.
“…What? Do you have something to tell me?”
Nishe, running a hand irritably through his long platinum hair, looked away sharply.
Then he burst at Ellie:
“Damn it! Hey, you said this would work! It backfired!”
“…I will correct my mistake.”
Ellie bowed her head with the solemnity of a general who had failed her commander. The book she’d been reading went flying.
At that moment, Juanxi gave a short sigh and shook his head slowly.
What was this?
Was I really the only one who didn’t understand what was happening?
“What on earth? You all know you’re acting weird today, right?”
Annoyed, I confronted them—yet Nishe waved his hand at me like I was the frustrating one.
“Whatever. You’re the weird one, you pretentious half-wit.”
The next day.
“Isn’t the Crown Prince ugly?”
Zeffy asked out of nowhere, just as abrupt as his entrances always were. The question was too random, yet I answered honestly.
“Why ask that all of a sudden? He’s handsome. Very, even.”
Golden hair, blue eyes—he was the quintessential storybook prince, the dazzling male lead.
Handsome male leads are a staple of the world.
The next moment, Ellie smacked Zeffy on the head.
Thud!
“Idiot! Keeping your mouth shut is the only help you can offer!”
“Violent brute.”
“If you don’t like it, hit me back. Though you’re too weak.”
“I went easy on you. You could never reach me with your skill.”
The two exchanged sharp looks, then bickered loudly before storming off to spar—right in front of me.
The day after.
In the long-missed quiet of a two-person library, the butler suddenly spoke.
“Imperials are atrocious.”
His tone was polite, but the way he forced the subject was painfully awkward. I gently corrected him.
“You don’t mean me, do you, Juanxi?”
“…I speak of the Imperial family. They use people carelessly and discard them just as easily.”
“Ah. Well, His Majesty does have that tendency.”
She—Hilbarcia’s Emperor—was a ruthless rationalist who evaluated the utility and worth of all things. Her standard was always: Does this benefit the Empire?
That was why she permitted the marriage to Lissie, who held greater advantage than the villainess. Had Lissie not been the Saint, she never would have allowed it.
Even Chesire had a harsh upbringing despite being an only child.
The Emperor was the cruelest to her own blood, forcing Chesire to struggle for survival despite having no rivals.
But with Chesire still unconscious, what would happen to the succession? The Emperor had a nephew, but—
Well. That was hardly my concern anymore.
“…”
Juanxi stared at me with a strange expression, like someone thinking, No, that’s not the reaction I wanted.
The day after that.
“Did you starve in the Empire or something?”
I was taste-testing cookies at Coco’s request—she was determined to perfect her baking—when Nishe barged into the kitchen and threw out a crooked remark.
I shielded my plate of cookies and snapped:
“Want one? Too bad. These are mine.”
“A—ah! I’ll make more for you!”
“Good grief. What noble lady hoards food like that?”
Nishe, who seemed to hold prejudices about noble ladies, stared at me with a sorrowful, almost saintly look.
“You’re all skin and bones. Fine, eat them all.”
…Great. Lost my appetite.
Then the day after that.
“Irenne, I found His Lordship’s old portrait. Want to look at it together?”
Giselle arrived unannounced, struggling under the weight of a frame wrapped in a white curtain.
“…You carried that all the way here? Just to show me?”
“He’s so absurdly handsome you won’t think of anyone else.”
Her words sounded strangely meaningful.
I was already exhausted from days of their increasingly bizarre behavior, so I didn’t bother thinking deeply.
“You all have been acting really strange lately.”
Strange didn’t even begin to cover it.
They clearly wanted something from me, yet no one said a word plainly—they kept dancing around it, testing me in the vaguest ways.
And now they wanted me to appreciate the Grand Duke’s beauty with them. To what end?
“Stop beating around the bush and just tell me. What do you want me to do?”
“Hm? We’re not expecting anything.”
“Giselle, I’m going to lose my mind at this rate.”
After days of this nonsense with no progress, I truly was at the brink.
Giselle, having lugged the huge portrait into my room, pretended not to hear my plea. She set the frame against the wall and whisked away the curtain.
Flick!
“Start with this, Irenne.”
