Chapter 52
“It seems the poison was made weaker than I thought. Unlike in my father’s time, the Countess didn’t die instantly but managed to endure. Or maybe? Did I just put in less poison?”
When Silla muttered seriously, Roil’s eyebrows shot up high.
Ellen urged her on.
“And then?”
“After working two days straight, nearly breaking my arms, I made quite a lot of extract and returned to the Karzel estate.”
“To the Karzel estate? Not to the Doctor?”
Roil interrupted Silla’s words.
“Doctor?”
“When the Countess collapsed, we sent someone to fetch the Doctor, but he happened to be sick and didn’t come. We thought that was your doing.”
“How would I know anything about that so-called ‘Doctor’? He doesn’t even spare a glance for penniless commoners like us. Only nobles and the rich get treatment from him—he must think he’s a noble himself. When you happen to run into him, he looks down on you and demands you address him politely as ‘Doctor.’ Do you think a man like that would agree to meet me just because I asked?”
The Doctor?
Is the Doctor really that kind of person?
Ellen and Roil had only ever seen doctors being kind and compassionate. They each recalled the doctors they knew, but none of them matched Silla’s description.
“Look at you two being all shocked again. Of course. People were always kind to you.”
Silla smirked crookedly.
“Anyway, whatever. The Doctor being sick that day had nothing to do with me. I returned straight to the Karzel estate and went back to my duties. That’s when I noticed the Countess was starting to pull back certain tasks she had been entrusting me with.”
What kind of signs? Ellen’s brow twitched.
“It seemed like I was about to be given responsibility for managing your room, Roilet, but suddenly that talk vanished. The errands she used to assign me related to her work were cut off completely. It was clear she was withdrawing from me.”
Listening, Ellen glanced nervously at Roil. His face was blank as he stared at Silla, unreadable. That blankness was always the scariest.
Why is she spilling all this so freely?
Ellen felt that they had already heard enough—now it was time to punish Silla and be done.
At first, she had thought Aunt Diana’s death needed to be dug into thoroughly, the culprit caught and punished. But as the absurd reasons piled up, the more she listened, the more Diana’s death felt meaningless, almost trivial. She didn’t want to hear any more.
More than anything, she worried about Roil sitting through this.
But Silla showed no restraint, baring everything needlessly.
Is she actually enjoying breaking us down like this?
“The Countess was easy to read. Her habits were consistent. She used a specific tea set for afternoon tea, another for welcoming close or important guests, and another when drinking tea before bed. She was obsessive about those details.”
So you studied her patterns and poisoned her teacup. Ellen thought it, and Silla spoke it aloud.
“I went to the kitchen and smeared poison on her cup. Well, not poison exactly. Just a mixture of Simpure extract and Brodin. Who could know whether she’d drink hot tea or cold from it?”
Silla grinned.
“You’re lying. The Countess always drank hot tea, even in midsummer. You must have known that from training, and from serving her personally. Besides, it was late autumn then—everyone drank hot tea.”
“Well, that’s a hard fact to prove, isn’t it? People forget things, even after training.”
Ellen wanted to twist that mocking mouth shut.
“You put Simpure and Brodin on the cup, and with hot tea it became poison. But why didn’t the spoon tarnish? If it turned into poison, silver should’ve darkened on contact.”
Roil’s question earned him a contemptuous look.
“Would I have applied it at the bottom of the cup? Of course not. Like you said, the spoon would’ve discolored immediately. Naturally, I smeared it on the upper wall of the cup.”
Everyone except Kash understood what that meant.
Though she never did it in front of others for propriety’s sake, Diana had the habit of swirling her teacup before drinking, like one might with wine.
“And as for evidence—I placed the cup in Lirin’s room beforehand, and spilled a little by the window so it dripped into the flowerbed. Honestly, I wanted to put it in your room, but at that time you weren’t coming to the estate much.”
Silla turned to Ellen as she spoke.
“After that, you know the rest. I left the estate, only to return after the Countess had already had her tea….”
Roil and Ellen looked at her as if she were some disgusting insect. She met their eyes calmly, unbothered.
“You’re not even asking why I picked Lirin? Good. At least you’re not completely stupid. I was getting tired of your idiocy.”
Silla laughed brightly, her words so provocative they didn’t even spark anger anymore.
“What was your reason and method for attempting to poison my mother a second time? Was it just to finish the job after the first failure?”
Ellen glanced at Roil. His face was still blank, but she could see the exhaustion in it.
Scratching her cheek with a finger, Ellen pulled paper and pen from her pocket.
Tell them to prepare an extremely sweet dessert today. Sweet enough to turn my tongue into sugar.
“Nesh. Take this to Erica.”
Silla still wore a smile. Watching it, Ellen shivered—Silla looked like she was slowly losing her grip on reality.
“No. This time it was a commission. No, more of a deal, really.”
“A deal? Explain properly.”
The atmosphere froze in an instant. Silla had just claimed there was a deal, conditioned on poisoning the master of the Karzel estate.
Behind her, Kash tensed, ready to snap her neck at a moment’s notice.
Yet Silla blinked slowly, unflinching, and began to speak.
✿ ✿ ✿
How did they get the antidote so fast?
Silla, dressed in her nightclothes, paced by the window. The moon had already crossed the sky, drifting further away.
Among nobles, the Quinter family’s “pouches” and “storerooms” were well-known, but commoners knew little of them.
They said the Quinter family had given the Countess a fine medicine, but it had arrived even before Quinter’s own people could have. Was it that strange cat who delivered it?
Lord Roilet, Butler Vener, even Eleanor—everyone seemed to suspect her. Her heart was uneasy. But still, they hadn’t thrown her out.
After a few days, a massive personnel reshuffle occurred inside the Karzel estate.
Silla was reassigned to a garden farther from the main greenhouse. Not long ago she had been a lady-in-waiting attending the mistress, and now she wasn’t even allowed to stay inside the mansion. It was practically a demotion to maid.
The only relief was that since there was already a gardener, she didn’t have much actual work.
So I’ve definitely fallen out of favor here. Should I leave?
Her plans had collapsed. And she had only just begun.
It’s unfair. I worked for years just to get into this estate as a maid.
She had chances to see faces often, her looks far prettier than her cousin who had risen in life—she was so close to charming her way into the Karzel household’s trust. How had it come to this?
The problem was that the sharp Countess had noticed her ambitions before she could even reveal them. After such a long preparation, her plan was shattered before it began. She had no idea what to do now.
Silla sighed and flopped onto the bed. Her roommate was on holiday, so there was no one to complain about her rustling late at night.
At some point she fell fast asleep, only to be shaken awake.
“Huh, Ann? You’re back already? Good work… see you tomorrow….”
She mumbled and pulled the blanket back over her head.
“Get up.”
A deep male voice. Silla jolted upright.
“W-what?”
Before her stood a figure in a black hood, pulled so low it covered half his face. He even wore a black mask. Only the bridge of his nose was visible.
From his build and voice she guessed he was a man. She clutched her blanket to herself, eyes wary.
“You’re Silla, the one who poisoned the Countess, aren’t you?”
“Wh-what nonsense are you talking about?”
“So I’ve found the right one.”
While everyone in the mansion chased the wrong lead and blamed Lirin, this stranger had come directly to her room, calling her name.
Silla froze. She couldn’t fathom what was happening.
“If you plan to attempt poisoning the Countess again, how about I help?”
His mask muffled his words. Silla eyed him with suspicion.
“Stop talking crap and get out.”
“Crap? That’s no way to treat an ally. Why so serious? The Karzel family couldn’t catch you even after bringing in a spirit-seer, but we have a witness. Only a poor maid got expelled for your crime, right? If you stay uncooperative, I could deliver that witness straight to the Countess.”
Her eyes, once clouded with suspicion and fear, sharpened dangerously. She glared at the hooded man, who chuckled. Even with only his nose visible, she could feel his grin.
“Then shall we have a serious talk?”
“So you’re telling me to become the Count?”
Silla looked incredulous.
“I may be ambitious, but I know I don’t have what it takes to be a Count. What, do you want me to starve the whole territory?”
He had thought she was just a greedy fool, but her words surprised him with their sense.
“If the title of Count feels too heavy, then you can take the role you originally wanted—that of Countess of Karzel. Ah, though the land won’t be called Karzel anymore, so your surname will change.”
“And just how high are you in the Nomad tribe, to promise the Countess’s seat with such confidence?”
“That’s none of your business. All you need to care about is becoming Countess. Hm… fine. If our plan succeeds, I’ll tell you then.”
“Our plan?”
“Surely you don’t think killing the Countess alone will hand Karzel to us? Her death is only one part of the psychological war against Karzel.”
“…And you’re telling me all this? Why trust me?”
“Because you can’t refuse. I told you—if you refuse, I’ll take the witness straight to the Countess. Do you think I’m trusting your character here?”
“……”
“Now that I’ve come to you, you have no choice but to board our ship. Otherwise, you’ll be executed for attempted noble murder.”
