CHAPTER 37
“You should only draw your sword against those who wish to harm me.”
Only then did Kaas properly meet Linaria’s gaze.
“You did well just now, but I didn’t give you any orders. You acted on your own.”
Maximilian had trained Kaas to be a puppet that only knew slaughter.
But Linaria didn’t want that.
“Remember this clearly. You’re my knight. You’re not some street thug who waves a sword at anyone, anytime. Understood?”
Kaas nodded.
Only then did Linaria release her grip on the sword.
As the blade was withdrawn from Linaria’s pale neck, Kaas unconsciously let out the breath he had been holding.
Linaria turned her back to Kaas and walked over to the fallen assassins.
There were five assassins in total.
All of them were connected to Brimstone.
One was Brimstone’s coachman, and the other four had used the power of a divine beast — specifically, the divine beast of earth, Brimstone’s power.
Whether or not they had been directly ordered by the Duke of Brimstone was unclear, but the connection was undeniable.
“This reeks of the Duke of Brimstone’s handiwork.”
Linaria’s eyes narrowed.
“But it’s too obvious. Like they want to be suspected.”
The duke had always disliked Obel.
And since he suspected Linaria of planting a spy, if she were attacked, everyone would immediately point fingers at the Duke of Brimstone.
“Kaas, what do you think?”
“If he really wanted to kill you, he would’ve done it more thoroughly.”
“Such as?”
Kaas’ eyes turned murky.
“He would’ve made sure you died without ever knowing who the enemy was.”
It was cleaner and left no loose ends — better than raising unnecessary suspicions.
Linaria agreed with that view.
“Someone wants to drive a wedge between Brimstone and Obel.”
And that person was probably…
A few days later…
“Do you think a Tower Lord could make a hundred million runes in a month?”
Linaria met with Magnus.
Magnus, who had been eating cookies, paused mid-bite.
“…Linaria.”
“Yes?”
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“No.”
“Then are you getting into some alchemy scam that forges gold coins?”
“No.”
“Either way, you don’t sound like you’re in your right mind…”
Magnus was basically calling Linaria crazy — politely.
“I’m perfectly sane.”
“Tch. I should’ve known when you brought him home.”
Though he had helped when Kaas became a knight, Magnus still didn’t like him.
“Look at him. Black. What kind of knight wears black? That unlucky color makes him look like a giant Obel!”
He picked on Kaas’ hair color for no reason.
To shut Magnus up, Linaria handed him another cookie.
Crunch.
Just as intended, stuffing his mouth made him quiet.
If he ever found out, he’d be offended at being treated like a child — but it was the most effective method.
Magnus, chewing miserably on his cookie, glanced at Kaas.
“Linaria. I let it slide before, but do you really think you can handle him?”
“Of course.”
“Just because you’ve put a leash on a beast doesn’t mean you can control one bigger than you.”
Magnus was firm.
“He’s got power, sure. But he’s not human yet. Those thugs swinging swords in the streets in broad daylight? This one’s more dangerous than any of them.”
“…”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but using that slave is a terrible idea. Get rid of him now, while you can.”
“Tower Lord, if you say that, you’ll hurt Kaas’s feelings. He’s sitting right there.”
“You’re just blindly defending him! Hmph! Turn off the lights. I’m going to sleep.”
He was watching Linaria leaf through books and got grumpy for no reason.
“Kaas, could you turn off the light?”
“Don’t turn it off! You’ll ruin your eyes!”
When his tantrum didn’t work, Magnus hurriedly changed his mind.
Linaria didn’t turn off the lights and continued flipping through her books — then suddenly looked up.
The ceiling lights came into view.
The room was brightly lit, thanks to the Imperial divine beast of light.
‘All the light in the empire is essentially under imperial control. Only the royal family can use the divine beast of light.’
Humans needed light.
They had to function anywhere, anytime — as long as there was light.
That included mines.
‘The imperial family charges not just taxes, but separate fees for light usage.’
Mining — digging tunnels and harvesting gemstones — required light.
Other methods of lighting were considered dangerous, so there was essentially no alternative.
“Tower Lord, are you familiar with the mines my family owns?”
“Oh, you mean those worthless ones?”
Magnus responded indifferently, munching on his cookie.
“I’ll tell you now. Even if you sell every bit of them, you won’t get a hundred million runes — not even a million.”
Mines were usually seen as goldmines, but that didn’t apply to the Obel family.
All they produced was glowstone.
“I still remember your father’s insane decision to buy up glowstones in bulk. There’s a limit to madness.”
Glowstones weren’t gemstones.
They were just slightly luminous rocks.
So dim that, in daylight, they looked like ordinary stones — useless for lighting up the dark.
Which meant they were worthless.
“It was probably because of my mother.”
“Margaret? What about her?”
“She placed some glowstones in the garden for my father’s sake. Some are still hidden there.”
“…”
“My father must’ve been so touched that he went and bought all the glowstones out of impulse.”
People might have called it a waste of money, but he must’ve been happy.
“Hmph. Well, I guess it wasn’t entirely a waste.”
“Right?”
“Don’t right? me! You and your father both have a tendency to overspend with no sense of limit once you get obsessed.”
“Not me.”
“Not you, huh? I heard you bought a store recently.”
“That rumor made it to you?”
“Ahem. Yes.”
“Bruno! Why does the neighbor Charles know about Linaria’s life before I do?!”
He had once hounded Bruno for every bit of gossip about Linaria.
But not wanting to seem like a doting old man, he brushed it off.
“There was a real reason for the boutique. Oh, by the way, Her Majesty the Empress said she knew my mother. Did you know that?”
“Really? First I’ve heard.”
So the Empress had likely lied to draw Linaria in.
“She said they were best friends.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Margaret only had me.”
“…”
Suddenly, Magnus’s words sounded completely unreliable.
Maybe the so-called wisest Tower Lord in the world wasn’t very objective when it came to Margaret.
“What’s that in your hand?”
“Glowstone.”
Linaria put down her book and rolled a glowstone in her palm.
Maybe it was because the room was so bright.
It just looked like a polished rock.
“I found something interesting about glowstones. I was checking books to see if anyone else had noticed, but it doesn’t seem like it.”
“Something interesting?”
“It’s a secret.”
Only then did Magnus glance at the title of the book Linaria was reading:
Just earlier she had brought up the mines. She was clearly up to something.
“You said that mine wasn’t worth even a million runes, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Then I’ll try selling it for a hundred million.”
“…You’re trying to sell sand in a desert. At a ridiculous price, no less.”
“Once you hear my plan, you’ll change your mind.”
“And who are you planning to scam? It won’t be me, so don’t even think about it.”
“The Duke of Brimstone.”
“…What?”
For a moment, Magnus thought his hearing had failed.
But Linaria didn’t take it back.
“Brimstone?”
“Yes.”
“You really have lost your mind.”
Magnus was appalled.
And knowing the Duke of Brimstone’s nature — always calculating, never careless — he was sure the plan would fail.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
The Duke of Brimstone had come to the Obel estate in person. He had heard something serious had happened, but looked reluctant.
“Since you’re here despite your busy schedule, let’s get to the point.”
Linaria gestured to Kaas, who was standing behind her.
“Do you remember this man?”
Kaas threw someone at his feet.
The man landed sprawled at the Duke’s feet — dead.
An assassin, disguised as a coachman.
“He tried to kill me. At first, I only knocked him out to interrogate him, but he bit his tongue and killed himself the moment he realized he’d been caught.”
The Duke of Brimstone’s face turned to stone.
“What are you implying?”
“That you tried to kill me, Your Grace.”
