Chapter 21
For quite some time, even the most basic things—like hot bath water or seasonal bedding—were often denied to Odette.
There were limits to how much Vailleon could help her. Above all, the Emperor blocked his active interference.
After going through all of that, Odette had reached this day.
The Fourth Princess’s Palace had been restored. Odette weeded out all the spies planted by the Empress and the consorts, filling her surroundings with capable loyalists. Now, all that remained was to plunge into the political struggle in earnest.
Even one as ambitious as Odette, it was said, had lost sleep the night before her first audience with Cain Blackwood.
From the very beginning, there had been no alternative to the Duke of Blackwood. Odette absolutely had to secure his acceptance.
And she succeeded.
“Why do you let your aide be, Beors?”
A low, reproachful voice.
“Why are you letting her try to sink the ship we’re all on?”
“I apologize on her behalf for damaging the Duke’s dignity.”
“Blackwood isn’t interested in women. Unlike other nobles, he doesn’t even have a single bastard. That’s what I valued about him. With such a great cause ahead, the last thing I wanted was to see him entangled in petty troubles.”
“But then,” Odette continued,
“your aide seems to be pursuing the position of the next Duchess by… rather unusual means.”
“No, that’s not the case.”
“Are you certain? Then why do the things I hear not match what you’re telling me?”
Vailleon did not avoid Odette’s gaze. Meanwhile, the contents of the report he had just put away in his drawer replayed in his mind.
Marienne hadn’t even realized it was a threat, but before the bucket incident she had received a yellow paper bird.
The intricately folded bird was a swan—the symbol of the Fourth Princess’s Palace.
Yellow meant warning, and Marienne had received it while alone in the dressing room.
It was exactly one week after she had begun her odd courtship antics toward the Duke.
A classic method of the Inner Palace.
Elegant, quiet, and leaving plenty of room to withdraw later if necessary. Odette had lived here for six years already—naturally she followed the palace’s methods.
The problem was that such tactics didn’t work on someone completely oblivious.
“My excuse that my aide acted out of admiration for the Duke… I made that up. It may sound strange, but—”
Vailleon spoke.
“Didi wants the Duke’s hair. Just as earnestly as Your Highness desires his influence, she sincerely wants a lock of his hair.”
“…Go on.”
“She said she would reveal her reason later. What matters here is that the Duke would never agree to her request.”
“Not just the Duke—no one would.”
“And meanwhile, the Crown Prince has become so engrossed in the commotion my aide caused that he’s been delaying the public library project.”
Odette’s rose-colored eyes glinted coldly. At last, a meaningful reaction.
The thought of killing Marienne Didi quietly had clearly lessened, even if only by a spoonful.
“The Empress worked hard to secure that project for her son…”
“But the Third Consort refused to back down. I know both sides invested heavily—money and promises alike.”
“And yet my elder brother, the heir, neglects his duty?”
“Well, he already resented the Duke, and then the Duke flatly rejected the marriage proposal with his cousin without a second thought.”
In truth, the only one convinced the proposal would succeed was the Crown Prince. Even the Empress had been doubtful.
Sure, it’d be nice to join hands with the North, but what does Blackwood stand to gain from marrying into us?
“You should’ve given him what he wanted.”
Odette let out a short laugh.
“A deal where you only demand without offering anything will never succeed.”
So what did you promise him?
The words nearly slipped out of Vailleon’s mouth, but he held them back.
If the Duke accepted, then Odette’s terms must have pleased him. And the only reason she hadn’t told Vailleon what she offered was because it was something he would oppose immediately.
Are you hiding more and more from me?
He couldn’t deny it hurt. He had met Odette before Cain Blackwood. He had been the first to make her laugh, the first to swear he’d help her reach her desired place.
And what had his beloved liege said to him?
“Order doesn’t matter.”
She would go with Vailleon part of the way, but there were paths she could only walk with Cain.
“You’re not the only one who’s afraid, Beors. I am too…”
Her eyes, normally unshaken, had looked different then.
“Beors, do you understand? I am too.”
“……”
“I’m afraid of only standing by and watching you fall apart.”
He had once said he’d be fine. That he could do it. That when ordered, he’d tear out a prey’s throat like a hunting dog. That all he wanted was to stand by her side.
But her reply still haunted him.
You’re the kind of man who would rather sacrifice yourself than harm others.
Do you mean for me to watch you crumble as your hands grow bloodier? Do you mean for me to endure the sight of disillusion in your eyes whenever they turn to me?
And Vailleon had no rebuttal.
If I’d said back then, “That will never happen”… would things have changed?
But that was just speculation. In truth, even now he hoped the day would never come when he had to sign a death warrant for the Empress or the Crown Prince.
Deposition and imprisonment—harsher than death to them, but less than what Odette desired.
“Your aide’s antics are certainly unpredictable. Even I, who meant to ignore it, found my attention drawn to her.”
Odette nodded lightly.
“But news that the Crown Prince is neglecting his work—that’s new.”
“I hear the door to the aide’s quarters, broken by the Duke, has already been replaced. Normally, with no one inside, they would’ve just thrown up a screen and waited a week. But not this time.”
“The Crown Prince’s faction?”
“Yes. It seems they’re so delighted to see the Duke made a fool of that they even want to cheer my aide on.”
“Is that so.”
Odette rose from her chair, her expression visibly softening.
“The time is approaching for my first report to Father. I suppose this one will also be the work of Viscount Hetzlei.”
Viscount Hetzlei handled paperwork for the Crown Prince’s camp. Not a core strategist, maybe fourth in rank.
Overworked and under-rewarded, he had recently begun secretly shifting allegiance to the Second Prince.
So the Crown Prince’s first report would likely look fine on the surface. The real problems would come later.
“That aide of yours—Marienne, was it? Quite the unexpected contribution.”
Standing beside Vailleon, Odette seemed to give him the chance he had been waiting for.
“She’ll only help from here on, never obstruct Your Highness’s plans. So I ask that you stop warning her.”
It was all clear from the report. Odette hadn’t bothered to hide every trace. If she had wanted to conceal the mastermind, she wouldn’t have folded the swan from the start.
She had foreseen Vailleon’s investigation and expected him to rein in his own subordinate once he uncovered the truth.
But Marienne Didi had once again defied the Fourth Princess’s expectations.
Instead of waiting quietly for the final report, she had driven the Duke—half-dressed—into sprinting down the palace corridors.
That was what angered Odette.
And when someone’s anger had already reached its peak, pointing out their faults helped nothing.
So Vailleon had waited patiently, choosing the most dramatic moment to highlight Marienne’s usefulness.
Odette gave a brisk answer.
“Fine. I’ll leave your aide be. So long as the Duke’s heart doesn’t change, that’s all I need.”
“You can rest assured of that. The Duke isn’t being swayed by her—he’s simply angry.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
Odette laughed incredulously.
“She just went and cut the hair of a man even His Majesty treats with caution.”
She shook her head.
“In any case, as for the Duke’s hair… deal with it yourselves. I won’t help with that.”
“Thank you for your understanding. If Didi tells me her reason, I’ll inform—”
“No.”
Odette cut him off.
“I don’t want to know. I doubt I’d understand even if I heard it.”
Truthfully, Vailleon felt the same. What was it about Cain Blackwood’s black hair that made Marienne so obsessed?
And yet he still hadn’t confessed one thing.
What his aide sought wasn’t a few strands of hair, but the Duke’s entire bald scalp.
Inwardly, Vailleon begged Odette’s forgiveness.
I may not kill, but apparently I’m fine with making someone bald.
It was, if he admitted it, thrilling in a way. The icy, sculptural Cain—Odette wouldn’t break their alliance over his baldness.
But though their alliance might remain intact, each time she looked at that smooth head, her composure would falter.
Hair really does shape a man’s impression more than one realizes.
And with that thought, he found himself rooting for Marienne all the more.
◇ ◆ ◇
When Vailleon returned to the office, Marienne was nowhere to be seen. No guards either—it seemed she had left with them.
Where did she go?
He glanced at the desk, half-hoping she’d left a note. Nothing. His desk and hers were both clean.
Well, she’s not required to report every time she steps out.
But that applied only to Marienne. The guards, at least, should’ve left a scribbled word or two.
He’d have to remind them about that later.
Odette had promised not to interfere with Marienne anymore, but Cain’s threats seemed only just beginning. He couldn’t feel at ease.
For now, he turned to the pile of documents. He picked up the one on top and had read about ten lines when—
Why is she taking so long?
His gaze wandered again to Marienne’s empty desk.
He remembered her chattering that she couldn’t help with paperwork, but she’d gladly do any heavy lifting.
And what else had she said? Ah yes—she had been so excited about tonight’s dinner at the Count’s estate.
She’d said it that very morning, in the carriage on the way to work, making him laugh.
Already thinking about after work? he had teased.
And she had nodded earnestly, as though it were the most natural thing.
“Is the job that hard?”
“Sir Beors, you must be joking. What could I possibly be doing at the Chancellor’s office that’s hard?”
“Then why are you already thinking of leaving?”
“Because right now, we’re on our way to work!”
She had then narrowed her eyes playfully and leaned toward him.
He caught the faint scent of the same soap he himself used, wafting from her.
