Chapter 65
Ranje declared that the heir would be chosen through three questions and answers.
Such an unimaginable method sparked murmurs all around.
No, even the fact that the rightful heir had to compete against a doll over an inheritance was absurd enough, but now they had to go through an exam? No one could easily make sense of it.
This only fueled curiosity, and Ranje felt dozens of eyes fix on her at once.
The young marquis could not hide his surprise either and glanced at his cousin.
That luncheon not long ago still lingered as an unpleasant memory, so when their grandmother said she was entrusting Ranje with something important, his worry only grew.
It was true that Ranje had an inventive streak, but the affairs of the world were not something that could be solved with boldness alone.
However, the questions that followed were even stranger.
“The first question will be announced by the head maid.”
The head maid, who had been waiting in the room in advance, stepped to Ranje’s side. Her face was taut with tension.
“I have a question for the two of you…”
She spoke while turning her gaze toward the wall, as if unable to bear looking at the two candidates.
“How many silver utensils are currently owned by the viscount’s estate?”
The room fell silent, and several seconds passed in stillness.
The first to speak was the viscount’s son.
“Who on earth would know that!”
His voice brimmed with anger. It was something he had never wondered about in his life, something he had no need to know. What noble, after all, memorized the number of silver utensils in their home?
Even though Ranje held the decision-making power and the young marquis was watching, the man could not rein in his agitation.
In stark contrast, Skadi closed her eyes in thought for a moment, then answered in a calm voice.
“I do not know the exact number, but assuming a situation where all administrators are present, there should be enough for twenty people to use at once.”
The young marquis realized, belatedly, what this question was actually testing.
It was never intended to demand the precise answer.
As the viscount’s son had shouted, no one would walk around remembering such things—except for the head maid herself, who was required to keep meticulous track of it.
Still, there’s a big difference between attempting to reason it out and just shouting in anger.
Knowing how many guests could be seated at a banquet was an important detail. Even a great lord of Morigen’s rank would know the scale of events their estate could host. A little thought would have produced an answer easily, like a doll reciting it.
While the young marquis gave a slight nod, Ranje spoke with an expression that suggested the outcome had been expected all along.
“We can consider Skadi to have gotten the first question right. No objections, I trust?”
The viscount’s son looked displeased but kept his mouth shut. He had no grounds to argue.
Ranje dismissed the head maid to her original position and summoned the next person.
“The second question will be asked by the administrator.”
The administrator from Lesvar—the one who served as chief among the twenty Skadi had mentioned—stepped forward in response to Ranje’s call, after glancing at an auditor in the group of onlookers.
“This question has two parts: What are the names of the most recently registered birth and death in Lesvar?”
Now faintly grasping the purpose of this test, the viscount’s son quelled his anger and glanced sidelong at Skadi. The doll, once again, seemed lost in thought and remained silent.
Realizing that he could not simply copy the previous answer and that at least he could speak first, the man opened his mouth.
“I don’t know. With so many people in the region, even my mother would not know that.”
It was a much better answer than before.
The young marquis watched Ranje’s expression intently.
Will she let this slide? What is she planning?
Ranje’s face remained as composed as ever.
Does she have the third question prepared so thoroughly that she’s confident? But if she yields even a single point, he’ll seize on it as an excuse and refuse to accept the result.
The marquis had entrusted Ranje with this matter, but in his heart, he too hoped Skadi would be chosen. He agreed with their grandmother’s judgment and wanted this test to proceed flawlessly.
The tension was broken by the doll’s voice.
“There is no correct answer to the second question.”
“What?”
Skadi spoke like she was making an announcement, ignoring the man’s mocking laughter as she continued.
“At the end of the year, the workload becomes overwhelming, so birth and death registrations are only received on paper while formal processing is postponed. Every year, the administrative records we receive at the start of the year only go up to November of the previous year. Even when we receive the updated records next year, as of now, the ‘most recent’ entries are unknown even to the administrator who asked the question.”
The administrator smiled in satisfaction. Comparing the man who had only said “I don’t know” with Skadi, who pointed out the reality of unprocessed records, left no doubt who the winner was.
Ranje now turned her smiling gaze toward the viscount’s son.
“Skadi has effectively answered two questions, so the decision is practically made. But for certainty, let’s check the last question.”
It was then that the man realized this test was a staged play—and far too late.
But walking off stage was not an option either. Ranje’s words were a declaration, not an offer. She revealed the third question without delay.
“The last question is mine. You remember the first day we met, right? Where did you store the research materials I asked for then?”
The man hesitated, torn between silence and a last-ditch gamble, before blurting out:
“The archives…?”
“You can’t answer that without verifying the lord’s authorization.”
By coincidence, Skadi spoke at the exact same time.
From the fact that Skadi did not even glance at the man, it was clear the archives were the wrong place.
The strange Q&A session ended there.
Ranje did not announce the final answer, nor did anyone demand it.
As stated at the outset, the doll had won two questions, so the heir was decided.
Anyone who would have accepted that would have respected the will in the first place. Instead, the viscount’s son immediately erupted in protest.
“You call this nonsense a legitimate way to choose an heir?!”
His roar rang in everyone’s ears, and voices of agreement followed.
The young marquis hesitated, wondering if he should invoke their grandmother’s authority, but then he noticed that Ranje had not lost her smile—or her composure.
She’s no fool.
She knew full well that such a method could not make the other side bow down. That could only mean she still had a card to play.
The people around Ranje remained calm as well—even the delicate-looking sisters stayed put, as if waiting for something.
Then, a group of elders rose to their feet. By refusing to join the protest, they had implicitly aligned themselves with Skadi.
And at that moment, several more people forced their way into the room from outside.
“A game, you say?”
One elder spoke. Her voice was not loud, yet it quieted the uproar for a moment, drawing all eyes to her.
She did not shrink under hostile gazes as she said:
“If you had truly grown up as the son of Viscount Lesvar, these were things you could not possibly have been ignorant of.”
The scale of the estate’s banquets, the busy season when paperwork piled up, the location where the family’s secrets were stored.
As the elder pointed out, these were things that were part of daily life for most.
Why did the man not know any of this?
The issue was not interest. It was that he had never had the chance to learn—because of the wrongdoing that had led to his long exile.
“Everyone remembers what you did to those people, and the betrayal you committed against your own mother, the viscount. Inheritance rights? You threw away that claim with your own hands.”
In an instant, the test became an open indictment.
The viscount’s son turned to the group of people standing a little apart. Their faces were unfamiliar to him, but they all remembered him.
Among them was one person whose identity he could not fail to guess.
When their blank, hollow eyes met his, a long-buried scene crashed over him like an ambush.
The blood drained from his face, and Ranje sank back comfortably in her chair, confirming the reaction.
It was done. The tide had turned completely.
The faint smile tugging at her lips brought sighs of relief from Erna and Heine.
Still clueless, the young marquis leaned toward his cousin.
“Even this part was your plan?”
“I succeeded in getting cooperation. I’ll tell you the details after we finish watching.”
Wait.
A week ago, after the village heads came to plead for Skadi to be chosen, Ranje realized there was something she had not considered.
Why are the village heads going this far?
They had spoken of past incidents and said they could not accept the young master, but thinking calmly, it was a strange situation.
A village head was essentially a local notable, someone who would normally side with the viscount’s son.
Yet they had gone out of their way to voice opposition—was it pure devotion to justice?
Or was there another sensitive issue entangled in this?
The viscount must have tried to cover it up to save face. Even the marquisate only learned of it during this recent investigation. And yet, the village heads could give such clear testimony because…
