[CHAPTER 119]
Derek bowed politely to Vincent.
Your Highness.
Is the Lady returning from the Empress’s Palace?
Yes, that is correct.
Nothing happened on the way?
It was a simple question, but Derek flinched.
He had never been good at lying.
No, nothing happened.
I see. Hand over the envelope.
Vincent held out his hand.
But Derek didn’t hand it over right away and just fiddled with it.
Derek Craefton.
Only when Vincent called his full name did Derek offer the envelope respectfully.
Vincent accepted it, his gaze turning cold.
I understand what you’re thinking, but… don’t forget your duty. I favor you.
Derek lowered his head with a troubled expression.
Yes, Your Highness.
After receiving Derek’s bow, Vincent returned to his office with the envelope in hand.
The words written on the front—“To the Dear Lady Wentworth”—were irritating enough to make him hesitate for a moment.
Should he burn it as it was, or read the contents first.
But leaving doubts unverified would only deepen suspicion.
With that justification, Vincent cut open the envelope with a paper knife and pulled out the letter.
[My Lady, the conversation we shared at last night’s ball left a strong impression.
If you would permit me more time together, please let me know when you are free….]
The conversation at the ball.
Did he mean when the Tower Master, Count Ascard, supported the staggering Amelia’s waist.
Amelia had said she spoke to him about Sylvia at that time.
It wasn’t a lie, but… was that really all.
Vincent didn’t believe Count Ascard at face value, but it was undeniable that the man held a special interest in Amelia.
And now he was even asking for another meeting.
Vincent couldn’t shake the feeling that Amelia was hiding something regarding the Tower Master.
Had she been threatened.
If only she would tell him.
Vincent stored the letter inside a drawer.
I should talk to her first.
He didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
He was about to leave to see Amelia when Oscar rushed in.
Your Highness.
What is it? No, tell me later.
Duke Freon has asked for help. The lord of the middle territory, where the road is being cleared, refuses to cooperate. He wants Your Highness to issue an imperial command. And news from Viscount Alfred Layton: Duke Wentworth and the Tower Master are meeting in secret right now.
At the two rapid-fire reports, Vincent stopped mid‑step.
Right now?
Yes. As soon as he left the Wentworth estate, the Tower Master entered. It seems their meetings are becoming more frequent.
Vincent’s expression hardened, and Oscar urged him.
You must first report the matter with Duke Freon to His Majesty. He has only just agreed to support you, so this needs careful handling.
Yes… that’s true….
Vincent agreed, but he struggled to turn away from the urge to go to Amelia right away.
The Tower Master meeting with Duke Wentworth disturbed him greatly.
Your Highness?
All right. Let’s go.
He decided to visit the Emperor first and talk to Amelia over dinner later.
Maybe a calm conversation over a meal would ease the tightness in his chest.
With a quiet sigh, Vincent headed toward the Imperial Palace.
***
Duke Wentworth couldn’t hide his discomfort when the Tower Master walked through the grand gate in broad daylight.
He led him into his study for now.
What brings you here without notice? And in the middle of the day?
Count Ascard ignored the reaction and casually pulled a book from the shelf, flipping through it absently.
It seems my presence displeases you.
Of course not. But we usually meet in secret. If you come like this…
The Crown Prince and your political enemies will know we are meeting.
Thud.
Count Ascard closed the book loudly.
Is that a problem? This isn’t a secret anymore.
Duke Wentworth paused, then spoke slowly.
…I suppose that’s true.
And as I said before, I can’t wait three more years.
What… do you mean.
First, we remove the obstacle.
Duke Wentworth immediately understood that the “obstacle” meant the Crown Prince.
That’s not what we agreed. I supplied the number of slaves you needed.
He had sourced them from small overseas auctions instead of the main slave markets, trying desperately to meet the numbers Count Ascard wanted.
But how long can you keep doing that? And the obstacle is not the slaves.
Then what? What else is so urgent—
I told you before. Phillips. I need your daughter.
You were serious?
Duke Wentworth looked at him with disgust.
Have you ever known me to joke? I wasn’t that fixated before, but now I’m certain. She knows the answer I want.
What answer? She’s a foolish girl, what could she possibly know?
Count Ascard only smiled faintly instead of answering.
What matters is that my patience is running thin. And when it ends, the consequences will fall on you, Phillips Wentworth.
Duke Wentworth’s face flushed red with anger.
You— you!
The sooner the better. You should separate the two of them. Their relationship is not as bad as you think.
He took a small crystal vial from his coat and handed it over.
Duke Wentworth accepted it with a wary look and stared at Count Ascard.
What is this?
Your lifeline.
You want me… to make her drink this?
Is it poison?
It goes down easy, but the moment it reaches the stomach, it twists the organs and burns the esophagus. Most will die. A very lucky few may survive. So yes, you could call it poison.
Clatter.
Horrified by the explanation, Duke Wentworth dropped the vial onto the desk.
Count Ascard calmly stood it upright again.
If she fails, do you know what will happen? And must this be entrusted to Amelia?
If she fails, her head will roll. And the entire Wentworth territory will suffer for it.
Duke Wentworth imagined the repercussions of Amelia failing to assassinate Crown Prince Vincent and recoiled in horror.
This is too dangerous.
That’s not what I mean! Tell me how to save us!
Count Ascard sighed as if giving a concession.
