WARDV 60

CHAPTER 60

At that very moment, just as Leticia had predicted, Elise was pacing nervously in her room, biting her nails hard.

‘What should I do?’

Before Leticia had even arrived at the estate,

Peidan had sent word through the butler that she should not leave her room.

But after realizing that Peidan still harbored lingering feelings for Leticia, Elise found it impossible to just wait quietly.

That was why she had gone to eavesdrop on their conversation…

“Soon, Lady Elise’s belly will begin to swell. Wouldn’t a public mudslinging match be a bit harsh on a pregnant woman?”

Fortunately, Leticia didn’t seem to have any affection left for Peidan—but that comment had triggered a different kind of anxiety in Elise.

‘Should I get rid of the baby?’

Miscarriages were common in early pregnancy.

Even if she claimed she suddenly lost the child, no one would doubt her.

However, the real problem was that once the child was gone, her position would become extremely unstable.

‘There has to be… another way…’

After pacing the room restlessly for a long time, Elise’s footsteps suddenly halted.

“…There’s no other choice, after all.”

Her eyes gleamed dangerously as she whispered to herself.

Deon put down the stack of documents he hadn’t been able to focus on and let out a frustrated sigh.

It was already 4 p.m.

Three hours past the time he had arranged to meet Idris.

‘He set the meeting himself and then shows up this late without so much as a message? Unbelievable.’

He was waiting for Idris because of a letter he had received a few days prior.

A curt message stating that Idris would visit at some point and wanted to talk.

There was no mention of what the conversation would be about—an incredibly rude letter.

Had it come from anyone else, Deon would’ve ignored it. But not in this case.

Idris wouldn’t seek him out for no reason. They weren’t close to begin with.

Which meant this must be about something very serious.

‘Don’t tell me… he found a lead related to the Founding Festival incident.’

He had taken great care to clean up that situation before any formal investigation could begin.

But even so, a sense of foreboding lingered.

If Idris did know something, Deon had no choice but to meet him and confirm it himself.

And yet the very person who was making him uneasy hadn’t even shown his face or sent word despite being hours late.

‘What the hell is he playing at…?’

Just as Deon’s irritation peaked from the growing sense of unease—

Knock, knock—

“Your Highness, the Grand Duke Del Lua has arrived.”

“…Let him in.”

The one who had so casually scheduled the meeting showed up three hours late without a hint of remorse.

“Sorry. Something urgent came up.”

Idris approached with a completely unapologetic expression and sat himself on the sofa without waiting for permission.

“You must have some free time today? You’re always so busy—I almost turned around, thinking I should come back another day.”

Then he picked up a strawberry from the table and popped it into his mouth, abandoning all pretense of formal decorum.

There wasn’t a shred of courtesy in him.

The butler, frowning at his behavior, said stiffly,

“I’ll bring some tea.”

But as the butler turned to leave, Idris stopped him.

“No need. I won’t be staying long. Besides, poison’s a scary thing.”

Still haven’t confessed yet, after all… he added under his breath.

But the butler, stunned by the word poison, didn’t catch the second part.

Poison.

That word was a direct jab at the time when the late Empress Dowager—Deon’s mother—tried to poison Idris in his youth.

The butler looked nervously to Deon, who gave a slight nod to dismiss him.

After the butler left, Deon sat down across from Idris on the sofa and asked,

“So, what brings you to see your older brother today?”

His words were polite, the kind an affectionate brother might say, but his gaze was ice cold.

Deon was all smiles in public for the sake of appearances—but there was no need for that when they were alone.

Idris got straight to the point.

“I’ve been investigating the incident at the Founding Festival.”

At that, Deon visibly stiffened.

“…Why are you looking into that?”

“Well, it’s hard to trust the old vultures who are always circling the Empress’s throne. So His Majesty asked me to look into it personally.”

“…”

“So tell me, who do you think the culprit is?”

Deon stared silently at Idris.

‘Is he asking because he already knows something?’

Idris wouldn’t have come all this way just to ask that question.

Whether he already knew or didn’t, Deon’s response had to be the same.

“…Why are you asking me that?”

“I thought for sure you’d already know.”

“Then you’re overestimating me.”

Idris studied Deon’s face for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“What a shame. I thought my big brother was more competent than that.”

With a half-smile, he crossed his long legs and continued without taking his eyes off Deon.

“I don’t know who the culprit is, but the victim’s affairs were wrapped up very neatly. Suspiciously neat, in fact.”

That much was true.

Deon had moved swiftly to cover everything up before any formal investigation could begin.

“But… you missed one thing.”

Deon froze mid-motion as he lifted his teacup.

Still, he kept his expression neutral and waited for Idris to continue.

“…And what would that be?”

“Locals say that debt collectors came knocking at the maid’s house several times.”

At that, a violent ripple flashed through Deon’s eyes, reflected in the red tea.

“And when we tracked down those collectors using their descriptions…”

“…”

“…We traced them back to the loan shark guild you run.”

Deon had specifically sought out maids in the crown prince’s palace with vulnerable backgrounds.

He had found one with a sick younger sibling and made sure she ended up in debt.

Then he used that debt to force her to carry out the murder of Rudian.

“You sure you don’t know anything about her?”

Idris looked at Deon over the teacup with eyes that were colder than ice.

His voice was calm, but his gaze was sharp as a blade.

Gone was the easygoing demeanor—he was now staring as if looking at an enemy.

Only then did Deon fully grasp the situation.

Idris hadn’t come here because he didn’t know who the culprit was.

He suspected, but lacked the evidence to prove it.

This was a warning.

That he was being watched.

‘This arrogant bastard dares…’

Fury rose within him at Idris’s bold attempt to corner him—alongside a primal fear at having his crime exposed.

Grinding his teeth, Deon forced his voice to remain steady.

“I don’t get a report on every single client who deals with the guild. I wouldn’t know.”

“…”

“But since it’s about our beloved nephew, I’ll look into it.”

Idris studied him in silence for a moment, then stood up with a sly, unreadable smile.

“Then I’ll count on you.”

But the moment he opened the drawing room door, two of Deon’s men blocked his path.

The butler who had exited earlier had ordered them to stand guard outside the office.

Idris looked at the two guards in front of him. His golden eyes chilled, and his lips curled into a lopsided grin.

“You planning to fight me?”

His voice was casual, almost amused—but carried an unsettling weight.

A sense of raw pressure filled the air.

“Two of you… think that’ll be enough?”