CHAPTER 80………………………
I had never once set foot in this castle.
That was why the powerful sense of déjà vu puzzled me.
“Marquis, what shall we do with the remaining luggage here?”
The butler pointed to several boxes stacked to one side.
“They… belonged to the previous owners.”
Lennox walked over slowly. In one of the boxes, something resembling a photograph caught his eye.
Though partially burned, leaving only fragments, what remained was a portrait of a young man with black hair and green eyes.
It seemed to be the former lord of the castle—Duke Euclid.
‘…He looks like me.’
Though Lennox currently bore golden hair, if he were to remove the necklace Clementine had given him, the resemblance would grow stronger.
“Leave this box. Throw out the rest.”
The butler looked perplexed at his words but soon nodded.
“Yes, sir. Also, a guest awaits you. He called himself Enzo.”
The butler’s expression showed hesitation, worried he might be reprimanded for admitting a guest before the master had even arrived.
But even when told the master wasn’t receiving visitors yet, this “Enzo” had been insistent.
“Where is he?”
“He’s seated in the first-floor central drawing room.”
Contrary to the butler’s concerns, Lennox only nodded silently and headed there.
Enzo—
The man Lennox had specially brought with him before coming here.
Upon entering the drawing room, Lennox spotted him and spoke curtly:
“Report.”
“The Crown Prince visited that place recently.”
Lennox’s sharp brows lifted.
“Too brief.”
“Why do you think he’d go there at such a time?”
“Are you trying to play twenty questions with me?”
Lennox stretched his long legs and kicked the desk hard.
Bang!
“Ugh!”
The man sitting opposite him crashed against the desk, his knees colliding painfully.
“You’re really a brutal guest…”
“And you’re speaking too vaguely.”
Lennox kept his foot pressed against the desk, not moving. Enzo quickly backpedaled.
“Alright! Alright! I admit, I’m unsettled too. A close friend of mine has worked there faithfully for ten years…”
“So? What business did he have there?”
“Urgh, it looks like the two of them will attend the imperial ball together—as partners. I’m dying here, so could you please take your foot off…”
Still unmoving, Lennox narrowed his brows and muttered:
“Partner?”
Seeing how tense and irritable Lennox remained, Enzo stammered out a reply:
“Yes… a partner.”
“Why?”
“You know how strict imperial balls are. They require one man and one woman—”
He emphasized “pair” by tapping his index and middle fingers together repeatedly, all the while wondering when Lennox would finally lift that damned foot.
But the black leather shoe showed no sign of budging.
Lennox’s brows twitched.
“She didn’t refuse him?”
“Well… he is the Crown Prince, even if only half one.”
Enzo’s matter-of-fact tone grated on Lennox.
“Dig deeper.”
“I can’t go any further. My friend’s tight-lipped, barely tells me anything. I only managed to pick this up by snooping. So could you please move your foot?! If I lose circulation and end up crippled, are you going to support me for life?!”
Only then did Lennox slowly pull back his foot, letting out a rough breath and running an irritated hand through his hair.
He hadn’t expected any noble to propose partnering with Clementine, given how badly she was marked by the imperial family.
He had planned to target the empty space at her side—but things had taken this turn instead?
“I should’ve pressed harder back then.”
“Pressed who?”
Lennox only twisted his lips into a crooked smile.
Outwardly, that sly man acted uninterested in her—but behind the scenes, he played all sorts of tricks.
‘As expected, there’s no one who doesn’t desire Clementine.’
Lennox regretted his carelessness. He should have secured her more firmly before marching off to war.
Seeing the Marquis like this, Enzo shivered as a sudden chill crawled up his spine.
After several days, Duke Dinero’s complexion had improved significantly.
Though he had yet to leave his sickbed, the fact that he had moved from liquid meals to solids was an encouraging sign.
At least his digestive system was functioning normally again.
“Chancellor Delerano’s medicine is truly remarkable.”
At my words, Duke Dinero scoffed gruffly.
“I thought the old fossil had become a relic of the past, but he still has some bite left.”
From his words, I could easily sense his condition was on the mend. Relief flooded me.
“I’ve gotten new information from that quack.”
The “quack” of course meant Jacques Lorenzo.
Duke Dinero’s gaze sharpened instantly, knowing we were using Lorenzo as a double agent.
“They’re planning to tamper with your will.”
“What? My will?!”
The Duke exploded, veins bulging on his forehead as he ground his teeth furiously.
“So the successor was their target all along! Those bastards deserve to be torn apart!”
“Successor?”
I looked at him in confusion, and he spoke gravely.
“The Dinero family’s will traditionally names the heir. Whoever is written there becomes head of the house.”
Realizing it wasn’t an ordinary will, my face stiffened at the weight of it.
The successor of House Dinero.
Not only was it one of the Four Ducal Houses in name and honor, but given the power they wielded, its significance was immense.
House Dinero was deeply entwined with both senior aristocrats and the military nobility, commanding their absolute support.
And ever since the current Duke, Georg Dinero, had taken the title, the family’s influence had grown beyond comparison.
“To tamper with the will means changing the heir.”
Most likely, Jacques Lorenzo hadn’t realized the gravity of what he relayed.
Had he known that altering the will equated to altering the heir, the coward would’ve swallowed the secret instead of reporting it.
The Duke gazed out the window, deep in thought.
After a long silence, he suddenly turned to me.
“Clementine, do you know why I delayed your succession all this time?”
“…Because you were being spiteful?”
“Are you just here to exchange jokes with an old man?”
“I was serious.”
I felt wronged. Honestly, what other explanation was there?
Once, I’d even wondered if he was venting the spite he couldn’t unleash on my late father by tormenting me instead.
“It was because of the last words that damned Jacqueline left me.”
My eyes widened at his unexpected confession.
Why was Father’s dying wish coming up here?
“He begged me—pleaded—that you not be raised to a countess before reaching adulthood. That prideful man.”
My brain froze.
This was the most shocking truth I’d faced in recent memory.
Wait. Then all the suffering I’d endured until now…
‘It wasn’t because of the old man—but because of Father?!’
My nape throbbed painfully.
‘You can’t grab the collar of a dead man…’
I am an adult. I am an adult.
I repeated the mantra to myself, swallowing down the boiling resentment.
“…Did Father give a reason?”
“No. But I soon understood. And surely you, too, have some idea.”
Those navy eyes pinned me. I wanted to deny it, but feared earning the Duke’s wrath if I did.
So I stayed silent, pretending to know, and thought furiously.
‘If he didn’t delay succession because he doubted Clementine before I transmigrated, then…’
The answer was clear.
The Count had foreseen that someone would target his life.
After the death of Duke Euclid and his wife, Count Jacqueline had refused the title granted by the Emperor in their honor—only to meet his own death soon after.
Before that, he had confided in Duke Dinero, requesting the succession be postponed.
He had feared for his daughter’s safety: if she became Countess while still young and unestablished, those who killed him would target her next.
It wasn’t hard to piece together. But realizing this left me conflicted—now I couldn’t even resent him in peace.
“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner? All this time I…”
Had been misplacing my resentment.
I bit my tongue and looked at him. Duke Dinero chuckled.
“I thought it would be more motivating. And indeed, you turned out rather well, didn’t you?”
“Motivating me to become what, a money-obsessed lunatic?”
“That too. Which brings me to this.”
The Duke didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he shifted the subject, his next words a bombshell:
“Will you become my heir, Clementine Jacqueline?”
