Chapter 56
“Wow, what’s all this?”
I gasped, my eyes widening.
One whole wall was filled with a large display cabinet full of equipment — beakers, flasks, glass plates, ointment trays, and other tools for making medicine.
At the duke’s mansion, we only had a few tools, so I had to wash and dry them after every use. Here, I could take my time and manage things comfortably.
On the right wall, there were neat rows of boxes containing only the most frequently used herbs. Next to that stood a large desk, big enough to hold a dozen flasks and mortar bowls with plenty of room left. A special storage cabinet was set up beside it.
Nice… and the smell is wonderful!
The old paper scent mixed with the strong aroma of herbs in the laboratory made my heart race.
I put my bags on the desk and turned to see a central worktable.
‘Gasp!’
Humming to myself as I looked around, I almost screamed — there it was: the latest scales, a herb cutter, and continuous boiling equipment, all perfectly set up.
‘This is amazing!’
Grinning, I ran my hands over the equipment, feeling the urge to start making medicine right away.
First things first — let’s get organized.
Still smiling, I unpacked and began arranging my belongings.
Even after filling the shelves with all my books on mana poisoning and herbology, there was still half the space left. I thought I’d have to buy more books. Then I started organizing the smaller items, opening the drawers.
Inside was everything from filters to medicine pouches.
It made sense — the prince’s medicine for his long-term illness had probably been made here all along.
Straightening my back, I picked up my scrapbook notebook.
I put the yellow one in the bottom drawer and held the red one in my hand, flipping it open.
On the last page was the rest of the newspaper clipping that had once fallen out of the notebook. I glued it neatly in place and read it again.
[Rumors spread that the 1st Prince, consumed by madness, kidnaps and murders children across the empire. Gregory, the priest chosen as the next High Priest, testified that he saw the 1st Prince drinking children’s blood. Others in the capital also claimed to have witnessed his killings… The number of children found dead is in the dozens…]
This was published on the front page of The Voice of the Empire the day after the Empress’s funeral.
I remembered clipping the headline about the 1st Prince’s rebellion back then, but folding the rest away without reading it. I hadn’t wanted to recall the shock of the funeral.
After that, I stopped clipping articles for a while, and once I married Alex, I gave it up entirely.
But the idea that Prince Claude kidnapped and murdered children — even drinking their blood — was ridiculous.
This was the man who, haunted by trauma from losing his family, blamed himself even in hallucinations and suffered deeply.
He was the one who spent months searching for Monte’s body, then built a grave near the old woman’s house. A serial killer?
Pft.
I laughed quietly.
Piecing together what I’d learned from the old woman and my own research, the puzzle was becoming clear.
Marquis Spiegel had used orphans from the orphanage to spread vile rumors about Prince Claude — and in the process, accidentally killed the boy chosen to be the next High Priest.
When the High Priest grew furious, Spiegel’s solution was to pin the blame elsewhere.
Being a noble born of “pure” aristocracy, he’d never dirty his own hands.
So he used everyone — his son Petro, Brefni, even Rachel — as pawns.
Monte had died because he got caught up in their schemes…
The thought made my fists clench.
It wasn’t enough that they used and killed innocent children — they even pinned it on Prince Claude?
Calling him a demon, a murderer, destroying his reputation, and finally trying to poison him to death?
It was such a petty, vile trick that I was left speechless.
Reading the article again, a familiar name caught my eye.
[…Gregory, the priest who testified he saw Prince Claude drink children’s blood…]
Gregory, now the High Priest — clearly part of Spiegel’s faction.
Priests had told me Spiegel had killed the previous High Priest in a staged “accident” and pushed Gregory into the role.
That alone was enough to make the whole empire rise in outrage.
Even royalty couldn’t touch the church without it being seen as overstepping — it was a clear violation of religious law, punishable without exception.
Then I remembered something from my past life, before I died.
While in prison, I overheard soldiers gossiping that the High Priest had run away in the night with Marquis Spiegel’s wife, causing an uproar in the empire.
In other words, Gregory would one day betray Spiegel in spectacular fashion.
If I played this right, Gregory might be the key to destroying Brefni’s faction.
Smirking, I put the scrapbook back in the drawer.
A rattling sound made me look up — the lid of the kettle over the fire was bouncing as steam escaped.
I poured hot water over peppermint leaves, let them steep, then carried the cup to the window.
Winter sunlight slanted through the glass, warm despite the cold outside.
I sipped the fresh, minty tea while admiring the still garden and the high, cloudless sky.
Then I saw a woman in a fancy dress step out of a carriage. Beside her was a nobleman in a hat, speaking with Alvin.
The woman’s wide-brimmed hat hid her face, and the man looked vaguely familiar.
Soon they entered the mansion.
I tilted my head slightly, then finished my tea.
Knock knock.
“Miss, you have visitors,” Anna called.
* * *
“So… Count Herbert is engaged to Rachel?”
“Yes. I just came from seeing His Majesty.”
Count Herbert rubbed his jutting chin and grinned.
His face was covered in age spots and deep wrinkles, with only a few front teeth left. Though nearly forty, he looked like an old man, and was infamous as one of the ugliest men in the empire.
That Rachel had gotten engaged to him was hard to believe.
Sure enough, when I glanced at her, she sat with her face pale and lips tightly pressed, as if she’d swallowed something foul.
“It’s a happy occasion, though a bit sudden. May I ask how you two met?”
“It’s been some time now. I saw Rachel praying at the temple, fell in love at first sight, and after persistent courting, won such a beauty.”
Count Herbert’s greasy face split in a grin, his large belly jiggling as he chuckled.
Rachel suddenly gulped down her water like someone stranded in a desert.
‘…She must really hate this.’
I couldn’t help but nod inwardly.
After all, he was not only ugly but also a womanizer — married twice before and kept four mistresses.
To become his third wife… either Rachel had a hidden agenda or had gone mad.
Even under her wide hat, I could see her face was badly damaged. Her reddened palm suggested she had hurt herself.
[(Earlier conversation with Prince Claude)]
[Who set the wedding hall on fire, I wonder?]
[They burned it right on the wedding road. Seems they were targeting you and me. The head maid said a newly arrived maid went missing — turns out she was already dead before the wedding day.]
[So someone disguised as a maid set the fire?]
[Most likely. The head maid said her face was so badly beaten it was unrecognizable.]
From that, the arsonist disguised as a maid was probably Rachel.
Beating her own face to avoid recognition — it was exactly the kind of extreme stunt Rachel would pull.
If all she wanted was to burn the wedding, there were easier ways. She must have had another reason.
Likely, she knew her cousin Jeremy had been locked in the tower, and this was her way of sneaking into the ducal mansion.
By claiming she’d been attacked by robbers, she probably thought people would believe her.
Given their bad history, I doubted she was trying to save Jeremy — more likely, she intended to kill him quietly before he could reveal anything.
***
“I thought it polite to visit the family before officially marrying. Honestly, it would have been enough to meet Duke Pierre, but he’s nowhere to be found. I didn’t expect to come here instead,” Count Herbert said, his tone laced with condescension.
Now that Brefni was Emperor, he probably saw me, the 1st Prince’s wife, as worthless. And being the second richest man after Alex, he likely felt superior.
“Well, you didn’t really need to visit me. Surely you’d get along better with Duke Pierre — you two have so much in common.”
I laughed loudly, hiding the barb.
Herbert’s face flushed red; he cleared his throat. As another well-known philanderer like Pierre, he understood the jab instantly.
Glancing nervously at Rachel, he quickly stood and put on his hat.
“Oh, it’s that late already? We’ll be going.”
“Please do. Take good care of my sister.”
Smiling sweetly, I answered. Herbert gave a half-bow before turning away.
“Wife, what are you doing? Get up.”
Impatient with Rachel’s sluggishness, he showed his annoyance.
But Rachel stayed seated, unmoving.
“Wife!”
Then, finally, Rachel slowly lifted her head.
From her teary eyes, a single drop rolled down her cheek.
