TMOGTD 108🔐

Chapter 108 ….

Evan left the townhouse and, wearing his usual gentle smile, told the coachman, “Let’s go to the Carel residence,” before stepping into the carriage.

“Let’s go!”

The carriage rattled as it moved forward. Inside, Evan drew the thick crimson curtains.

The sunlight was blocked, and the noises from the roadside outside quickly faded.

“Huh.”

Evan let out a short sigh. There was no smile on his face.

The smile that always rested there had disappeared, making his features look almost unfamiliar, as if his entire face had changed.

His eyes, once as clear as the autumn sky, were now colder than the frost of midwinter.

In the dim carriage, the shadows on his face made him look unnervingly gaunt.

Resting his chin on his hand, Evan spoke slowly.

“My uncle doesn’t seem to do anything right. The only ‘successful operation’ he’s managed is spreading bad rumors, yet somehow he shamelessly managed to get that expensive Alchemilla tea.”

It seemed like he was speaking to himself, but a voice responded from across him.

“It took a total of 121 gold to acquire the tea.”

The man who emerged from the shadows was short and skinny.

He had always been by Marlon Fletcher’s side and had been waiting with the carriage before Evan even left the townhouse.

“Over a hundred gold just for Alchemilla, huh…”

Evan sighed, his tone light despite the seriousness of his words.

“It seems my uncle really likes the idea of ‘the kind of luxury a Blanchard duke ought to enjoy.’ He talks as if he himself were a member of the Blanchard family.”

“Shall we stop him?”

Evan shook his head at the man’s question.

“No. He’s probably already in a foul mood today. Better let him soothe himself with expensive tea. After all, he won’t be able to spend extravagantly using my name for much longer, right?”

If Marlon Fletcher had heard that, he would have been outraged.

But Evan didn’t care at all, and neither did the man sitting across from him.

The man, who had always seemed irritatingly frivolous beside Marlon Fletcher, nodded silently in the dark.

Watching him, Evan lifted the corner of his mouth into a smile.

Even with his cold eyes and twisted lips, the smile produced a strangely discordant effect.

—Stick close, alright? My uncle’s a bit foolish.

—Yes, understood.

Since the moment Cyrus had issued the exile order, the man Evan had stationed near his uncle had worked smartly.

“Well, that exile order did serve its purpose.”

It gave him a chance to plant someone near Marlon Fletcher and an opportunity to let it be known that Evan Blanchard was being oppressed by Cyrus Blanchard.

The exile order provided both opportunities.

Not being able to enter the duchy again wasn’t much of a drawback compared to the advantages.

He didn’t care about the duchy anyway, where nothing but snow ever fell.

“What I’m interested in is the other side…”

Through the slight gap in the curtain, Evan caught a glimpse of the splendid gates of the royal palace, his sapphire eyes sparkling.

“Will we be staying at the Carel residence for a while?”

Evan tore his gaze from the palace and nodded.

“Yes. I won’t be going back to the townhouse where my uncle resides until after this winter, so make sure to give a good impression. He’ll fuss and worry, so you’ll need to soothe him.”

“Understood.”

“For a while, my uncle will keep his guard up. If he even has a sense of caution, that is.”

Marlon Fletcher was a man whose greed usually outweighed his sense.

But he knew well whose money filled his pockets.

So, at least until Evan made his move, his uncle would watch his step.

“And send someone to the duchy to check how things are going. Even though Cyrus handled the avalanche in Nesh, things are far too quiet. A gossip rag should have turned even a small rock falling from a cliff into a landslide story, right? But oddly, not a single article has appeared.”

“Perhaps the Blanchard duke stopped them?”

“‘That’ Cyrus? If he were capable of that, the rumors wouldn’t have spread like this. Considering the wealth of the Blanchard family, he could’ve bought all the printing presses in the capital and still had money left over. Yet he just stood by while all sorts of rumors spread. That’s the fool we’re talking about.”

“……”

“Anyway, investigate thoroughly. If it’s related to the Blanchard duke, gossip rags won’t stay quiet. There’s definitely something else going on. For example…”

Evan’s neatly shaped dark-brown eyebrows lifted, showing a look of displeasure.

“…like a healer.”

“A healer?”

“The person who treated people after the avalanche. Something’s off. Investigate their identity. Oh, and also the gardener invited by that princess.”

The only difference in Cyrus’ extremely limited social circle was these additions.

Just a healer and a gardener, yet the results were astonishingly different.

‘Cyrus Blanchard, savior of the village.’

“…Doesn’t suit him at all.”

As Evan scoffed, the carriage slowed.

They were almost at their destination.

Through the gap in the curtain, Evan caught a glimpse of the Carel residence. The man asked,

“Are preparations going well?”

“Ah, surprisingly smoothly.”

Evan grinned. Unlike his usual gentle smile, the half-smile looked downright sinister.

“Those wizards… even with countless ways to make a fortune, they can’t stop their pointless research. Anyone who takes an interest in my trivial experiments, I’ll chase after them like a dog. Less backbone than the dogs themselves.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good one.”

“Yes, a rather good one. Soon it should yield proper results. Watching someone pour effort into creating something without knowing where it will be used… quite entertaining. Come by and watch sometime.”

“I doubt I’ll have the time.”

The man said seriously.

“Count on me to stop Count Fletcher from acquiring another batch of Alchemilla tea.”

“Hah!”

Evan chuckled lightly and nodded.

“Oh, that’s important. My uncle needs to understand that the Blanchard family’s money isn’t his own. Whether Cyrus or I sit as duke, that fact doesn’t change.”

Saying that, Evan grabbed the handle of the now-stopped carriage.

“Anyway, good work. You know how to report, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Make sure my uncle doesn’t turn his attention this way.”

“Of course.”

Satisfied with the response, Evan opened the carriage door.

As soon as the door opened, his eyes curved and a bright, gentle smile spread across his face.

Truly warm and soft.

“Good work, coachman. Head back to the townhouse. This is your tip.”

“Yes, yes! Th-thank you, Evan! Thank you!”

The coachman thanked him repeatedly after receiving the two gold coins Evan handed over.

Leaving the coachman behind, Evan entered the street, which, despite it being daytime, was cloaked in a deep shadow.

This was the district where eccentric, freelance wizards lived—the Carel residence.

“Ugh.”

As the sun began to sink, Lizzie Atkins was making frostbite ointment.

Her cauldron bubbled constantly. She had to distribute the ointment to five villages, so the pot never rested on the fire.

Fortunately, a while ago, Sheila, an herbalist from Nesh, had sent the necessary herbs via a knight.

Thanks to that, Lizzie could make a large quantity without worrying about ingredients.

“Lizzie, should I take this?”

“Oh, Sir Powell! It’s been a while. Yes, just take that. Are your legs okay?”

Powell, who had barely survived being caught in the avalanche, nodded.

“I’m fine. The medicine you made was incredible. Painful as hell, felt like I’d die, yet it healed amazingly fast!”

“Good medicine is always bitter.”

“Didn’t taste bitter to me.”

“Don’t talk back.”

“Okay.”

Even though a mere gardener spoke informally to him, Powell nodded obediently.

Even the duke allowed the gardener to speak casually, so a knight had no reason to insist otherwise.

He didn’t even mind—it wasn’t unpleasant at all.

—Maybe she’s extremely old? That might explain why it doesn’t bother me.

—Or a hidden noble.

—A noble that’s good at manual labor?

—Someone that old looks like that?

—Possible!

—What?

—Turns out there’s a portrait of her hidden in her cabin. The portrait ages, she doesn’t. She becomes immortal. Then she seeks people like me… and eventually hears of an immortal duke…

—You really…

—Why are you talking like that again?!

—This one was fun.

—Oh really?

Recalling her conversation with the staff, Powell hoisted a container full of ointment onto his shoulder.

“I’ll be off then. This is the last batch, right?”

“Yes. The other medicines are already loaded in the supply cart, so just take this.”

Powell nodded and left the cabin.

The supply cart, filled with medicine, would reach the villages affected by the avalanche and blizzard.

Of course, the medicine could not heal the emotional wounds of those who had lost family.

But it was a new beginning.

A message that their lord had not forgotten them.