Chapter 114 …

After checking his schedule once more to make sure he wouldn’t be late for the year-end banquet, Benedict left Winfield and arrived at the Milburn estate on the morning of the third day.

“Brother, I have a favor to ask.”

Before reaching the baron’s manor, Benedict called out to Alfi, who was riding in the carriage with him. Since they had come all this way, there was something he wanted to look into.

“You want to check whether the weaving workshop in this territory is being run properly, right?”

“How did you know?”

“My master is diligent.”

Alfi answered with a grin, shrugging his shoulders before adding,

“Besides, that baron doesn’t seem like the type who would actually work properly.”

With full support from Winfield, Milburn sent a report once a year on the operation of the weaving workshop.

The report claimed that the baron himself trained the weavers and was expanding the cultivation of crops such as cotton, working hard to grow the business in many ways.

The contents sounded fairly convincing, but honestly, considering the man’s reputation, it was hard to trust.

“Well, moral character and business ability don’t always go hand in hand.”

Still, if the baron truly wasn’t managing the business properly, it would become difficult for the ducal house to recover the principal investment.

Actually, that alone wouldn’t have been such a problem. More than that, Benedict did not want his father’s intentions—who had willingly offered support in hopes that this land would prosper—to be in vain.

“Then I’ll go check.”

When the carriage stopped briefly, Alfi mounted a horse and rode off toward the village, leaving the group.

Benedict continued on toward Baron Milburn’s residence. But the moment he arrived, he couldn’t help frowning.

In a place that should have been solemn with mourning, the air was strangely filled with indulgence.

Between the historic suits of armor decorating the entrance, the heir of some noble house had collapsed to the floor, reeking of alcohol and vomiting.

Another wastrel was teasing a woman dressed in black—offering her flowers meant for mourning.

Considering that Baron Milburn usually associated with people similar to himself, it wasn’t all that surprising.

Any noble with proper sense would feel insulted just by being present here.

“Your Grace!”

As if he had only just received word of Benedict’s arrival, Baron Milburn came rushing out to the entrance while hastily fastening the buttons of his black jacket.

“I didn’t expect you to come like this. Thank you very much.”

“…May the late baron rest—”

“Bleegh.”

Before Benedict could finish speaking, the unpleasant sound of someone vomiting erupted right beside them.

“……”

Benedict fell silent. The baron quickly grabbed his arm and led him inside.

“It seems my friend is overwhelmed with grief and drank too much. Haha.”

Yes, apparently so overcome with grief that he had his trousers half undone.

Benedict swallowed the words that rose to the tip of his tongue.

In any case, this wasn’t the place to point out every instance of their debauchery. The late baron deserved to be mourned.

Inside the manor, voices of relatives could be heard from the banquet hall. Surely they were praying for the late baron’s soul to find its way into God’s embrace…

“I thought there’d at least be a decent inheritance.”

“They said our elder brother was generous, yet he left his younger siblings with almost nothing. Tsk.”

Apparently not.

Feeling that if he stayed any longer his soul itself might be tainted, Benedict silently turned around.

“I’ll see you again at the funeral mass.”

After politely announcing his departure, he quickened his pace. The baron hurried after him.

“W-won’t you at least have some tea before leaving?”

“No.”

Benedict refused flatly and returned to the entrance. Even the servant who had accompanied him from the ducal house seemed eager to escape this hell, quickly handing him his hat.

“Once again, may the late baron rest—”

Benedict tried to finish the greeting he had started earlier, but once again someone interrupted.

Fortunately, this time it wasn’t a disgusting sound.

“What did you do to my sister?!”

A voice filled with furious rage echoed throughout the entrance hall, drawing everyone’s gaze toward one spot—

toward the shadows beyond a corridor.

“Let go! I said let go of me!”

Soon the sounds of servants restraining someone could be heard as the person struggled violently.

As Benedict watched the scene quietly, the baron hurriedly tried to nudge him outside.

“It’s truly an honor that Your Grace came all the way to the chapel. My father would be pleased.”

Just moments ago he had begged Benedict to stay longer, but now he seemed desperate to get him out as quickly as possible.

“Baron.”

Benedict was neither weak enough to be pushed out by the man’s clumsy hands, nor cold enough to ignore someone’s desperate voice.

Besides, the voice he had just heard sounded strangely familiar.

“Y-Your Grace?”

Ignoring the baron, Benedict strode toward the source of the voice.

“There’s no need for you to concern yourself with this. You know how it is—during times like these, people often show up claiming to be illegitimate children and causing trouble. Haha!”

The baron stuck close to Benedict, hurriedly offering excuses—though it was useless.

“Let go! You fraud! Bring my sister out right now—!”

The furious voice rang out again.

“What are you doing? Drag him out immediately!”

“Stop. Step back.”

The baron urged the servants on, but at the same time Benedict raised his hand to stop them.

Recognizing the owner of the calm voice, the servants glanced nervously at the baron but slowly released the man whose arms and legs they had been holding.

In the empty corridor sat a man with his clothes half torn, his well-trained body faintly visible beneath.

“…Jun.”

Without much hesitation, Benedict extended his hand.

Behind him, the baron could be heard swallowing hard. He had never imagined that Benedict would know a traveling performer.

“Your… Grace.”

Jun replied in an uncomfortable voice.

Though he had no choice but to accept Benedict’s help, it was obvious he wasn’t pleased about it.

“Take my hand. You look hurt.”

Jun grasped his hand. With a gentle pull, Benedict helped him to his feet.

From up close, blood could be seen at the corner of Jun’s lips.

Benedict turned back to the baron but didn’t bother asking what had happened.

Given the rumors circulating about the man—and what Jun had just shouted—the answer was obvious.

“…Bring her here. Immediately.”

Benedict issued the command shortly.

“N-No, Your Grace, that’s—!”

The baron seemed about to protest, but after sighing—as if realizing it would only make things worse—he turned and went somewhere inside.

While waiting at the entrance for Simone to be brought out, Jun explained everything in a gloomy voice.

“The baron… that bastard pretended to be a good man and won my sister Simone’s favor.”

But soon it was revealed that the jewelry the baron had given her was fake.

The troupe leader had argued loudly with the jeweler, insisting, “That can’t be right! Baron Milburn himself gave it to her!”
During that argument, they also heard rumors about the baron’s “true nature.”

While the troupe leader wailed about being deceived by a noble, Jun had rushed straight to the Milburn estate with a bad feeling.

When he met the baron again, the man no longer bothered to maintain his polite facade.

He also refused to let Jun see Simone.

Convinced Simone might be in danger, Jun had begun causing a disturbance at the estate—and fortunately, that was when Benedict arrived.

As the story ended, a servant appeared behind them carrying Simone on his back.

When Benedict saw her up close, he froze in disbelief.

The woman hanging limply there without consciousness… was that really Simone?

Not long ago she had been grinning mischievously and threatening him, saying, “Give Lucien back!”

Now none of that lively energy remained.

Through her tattered clothing, countless bruises and wounds could be seen covering her skin.

Her face, which Benedict checked anxiously to see if she was still breathing, was pale enough to be pitiful.

Dark blood still stained her lips, and faint groans escaped from them. It seemed that even breathing might be painful.

It was painfully obvious she had been subjected to brutal abuse.

“……”

Without saying a word, Benedict quietly opened the carriage door.

The servant placed the limp woman inside and hurried away as if fleeing.

Benedict half expected the baron to come out and attempt some excuse, but the cowardly man stayed hidden inside the manor.

Benedict looked at Jun, who stood there in stunned silence.

“I’ll… take you there.”

Jun said nothing and quietly climbed into the carriage.

* * *

When they arrived at the outskirts where the traveling troupe was staying, Benedict had only Jun and Simone get off.

“I’ll go find a doctor.”

After saying that, Benedict immediately left again.

“Oh dear, oh dear!”

The troupe leader discovered Simone and began stomping his feet in panic, anger bursting out first.

“That crazy noble bastard! My god!”

Meanwhile, Jun laid Simone down on the wagon bed.

Even now she could barely regain consciousness.

Occasionally she retched, but nothing came out.

“…I think her insides are completely ruptured.”

The tightrope walker muttered quietly while watching her.

Sometimes when performers in the troupe fell during accidents, they showed similar symptoms before dying.

Elsi swallowed her tears and spoke.

“H-her stomach… it’s covered in bruises. And it’s swollen too… Sob… how could anyone do this?”

“…She might not make it through today.”

After saying that much, Liliana lowered her head deeply and wiped her eyes.