Chapter 86
Even after the sermon, the drinking continued.
“You hold your liquor better than you look.”
“What do you mean by ‘better than I look,’ Your Highness?”
“You just seem like the type who wouldn’t touch alcohol.”
Tristan grinned. The drink in Agnes’s hand was one of the strongest spirits on the continent. Knights who claimed to be heavy drinkers couldn’t manage more than three glasses before collapsing, but she had already downed five without so much as a blush, sipping with a calm, clear expression.
“I don’t know what kind of image that is… Maybe it’s just a stereotype because of my profession?”
“Well, when people think of heavy drinkers, there’s a certain picture that comes to mind. You’re the exact opposite.”
“I don’t even know if this means I hold my liquor well. I’ve barely had alcohol in my life. Maybe… five times in total? And even then, only a glass or two.”
“…You’re not dizzy? Not even warm or lightheaded?”
“Not at all. I feel fine.”
“…You were born for this.”
“What good is being born with this kind of talent…”
Agnes chuckled bitterly and took another sip.
It would’ve been one thing if she enjoyed drinking, but including tonight, she could count her drinking experiences on one hand—and most of them had been obligatory social settings like this. She reflected bitterly on her lack of friendships. Who was she to worry about Timothy’s social life when she herself didn’t have a single friend?
No—there was one now. Agnes smiled awkwardly, thinking of Bran’s flustered face.
“Do we really have to drink in such a gloomy atmosphere, though?”
Was this some drinking custom she didn’t know about? She looked around at the dimly lit surroundings, lit by a single candle. Sharing drinks with the Crown Prince and a Duke should’ve been a grand affair, yet there wasn’t even a snack for the palate. It was dark and cold—even though it was summer, the mood was gloomy.
Ethan glanced at Tristan with a look that could now be unmistakably described as disdain. Tristan only grinned.
“It’s more fun to scheme in the dark, don’t you think?”
“…Scheme what, exactly?”
Was he trying to play the villain? For a moment, Celine’s face overlapped with Tristan’s.
“Is it normal to see the shadow of a 9-year-old girl in the Crown Prince?”
Well, that wasn’t something she could say out loud.
“You’re planning to kill Jayden Oakley Reynold?”
“I’m not joining in on any murder.”
“You’re the one who said we should rough him up.”
“I said we should uncover his crimes and make him pay for them, that’s all…!”
“You’ve already got your foot in the door. You drank, didn’t you?”
“When did this drink become a symbol of criminal complicity?”
“You’re an accomplice now.”
“Your Highness, Your Grace, none of us have committed a crime, so what kind of accomplice are you talking about…?”
Agnes groaned, trying to protest, but Tristan burst out laughing. He seemed in an excellent mood.
“Anyway, go on. You’re not planning to use the team anymore, so what’s your new strategy for exposing Reynold’s crimes?”
“At the moment, our only option is to use Greta’s son.”
“Want another sermon?”
Tristan paled and shook his head. Ethan, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.
“Jayden Reynold will do anything to claim Timothy’s name and title. If he can’t steal it from me, he’ll destroy or kill him. That’s the only way he can fully control House Reynold.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Teacher, I understand why you don’t trust me.”
“What do you mean?”
The words were hard to believe coming from Ethan’s mouth. He lowered his head and spoke with bitter self-awareness.
“But please believe me on this—Timothy will not be harmed.”
“…When did I say I didn’t trust you, Your Grace?”
Agnes mumbled. Ethan raised his gaze to meet hers and reached out, covering the back of her hand with his.
“I hope Timothy never finds out who killed his parents.”
And that was why he couldn’t act rashly.
Jayden Reynold wasn’t particularly difficult to handle. The only reason he had successfully faked the hunting accident that killed Timothy’s parents was because it had happened in their own estate. He wasn’t cunning, not very clever, and certainly not discreet.
“I know, unfortunately, that Timothy admires and loves Jayden Reynold.”
Jayden, who looked identical to Timothy’s late father, was both Agnes and Ethan’s weakness—and Jayden’s greatest weapon. Ironically, what protected him was the sliver of affection Timothy had for the man who resembled his father.
That was why Ethan couldn’t make a move.
Agnes thought Ethan’s palm, resting on the back of her hand, felt incredibly warm.
“He has to learn the truth someday, but not yet. Let him grow up a bit more first.”
“Your Grace…”
“What I need is evidence. I promise you—I won’t let him get hurt. Even if Jayden Reynold is imprisoned, his charges won’t include Greta and her husband’s murders.”
“Ethan!”
Tristan raised his voice, but Ethan continued, pretending not to hear.
“Of course, House Reynold should know. We’ll uncover who helped him, who knew, everything. I’m not saying we’ll let them off.”
Those last words were directed at Tristan. Ethan let out a deep sigh.
“What I’m saying is that it’s better if Timothy doesn’t know.”
“Isn’t that deceiving him?”
“I told you. I’ll tell him—when the time is right.”
“…”
“I’ll clean up House Reynold, but what’s the point if the name is already tainted?”
“So you’ll protect the name of a family that might’ve been complicit in your sister’s death… for your nephew, who barely shows any affection?”
“Your Highness.”
“Then who will avenge Greta?”
“…”
“I stayed out of this because it was your family matter. But if you’re not planning to uncover the truth, I can’t stay silent anymore.”
Agnes looked down. Tristan’s clenched fist was trembling with tension.
“Greta…”
Ethan said.
“She’d want her son to be happy.”
“You think you have the right to say that? You ignored your nephew for over a year.”
“…”
“Providing food and shelter doesn’t count as care. Didn’t you hear that enough from the teacher to know better by now?”
Ethan didn’t argue. But his steady eyes acknowledged the guilt.
“And that’s exactly why I don’t want him to learn a truth he doesn’t need yet.”
“Ethan!”
“Greta would want that. Not that I’ve ever tried to understand how that bright, simple mind worked…”
…Ethan.
Tristan’s voice cracked faintly. Agnes noticed his cheekbones flush red and his strong jaw trembling.
She lowered her gaze to Ethan’s hand still holding hers—gripping just tightly enough to hurt.
It’s only been a year and a few months.
To her, it felt like distant history. But to Ethan and Tristan, it was still fresh.
The death of a sister. The death of a childhood friend. No wonder they couldn’t move on so easily. She had been so focused on Timothy’s pain that she forgot—it was their grief, too.
If anyone has the right to want Jayden Reynold dead… it’s the man squeezing my hand this tightly.
And yet, he was restraining himself.
Agnes slowly twisted her hand free from Ethan’s and instead placed her own over his, gently patting it. His hand stiffened at first, then shifted slightly to clasp hers in return.
She agreed with Tristan’s insistence on revealing the truth—but emotionally, she sympathized with Ethan. What mattered most was the pain Timothy would endure. Even if he had to learn the truth one day… she hoped it wasn’t now.
And…
She didn’t want the shadow of tragedy that would follow Timothy all his life to also carry his uncle’s darkness.
“I know Greta was special to Your Highness.”
“…So you were aware.”
“I only realized recently.”
“The teacher taught you unnecessary things, it seems.”
Emotionally dense and oblivious—that used to be your only flaw, Tristan muttered.
“And when did I say I was going to let Jayden Reynold live peacefully?”
“…”
“I just said the world—and Timothy—shouldn’t know.”
“…Seriously.”
The sound was more sigh than laughter.
“I’ll make sure he pays. Thoroughly.”
“You really do listen well.”
Ethan looked up at Agnes. It was the gaze of someone seeking praise. When she looked away, his eyes fell to their clasped hands.
Ack!
Startled, she tried to pull away—but his hand didn’t budge.
“Let go!”
“You were the one who grabbed me first.”
“That was just—just to comfort you…!”
“Was that all?”
“Of course! Now let go!”
“Nope. I’m pretty sure your eyes said I was admirable.”
“…Okay, maybe a little admirable…”
Even now, she couldn’t lie.
“See? Then you should praise me more.”
“How is this praise? Let go already—!”
Tristan scoffed and forcibly pried their hands apart. Ethan looked at his lord with a pout, while Agnes sighed in relief. Tristan pushed Ethan aside and tugged Agnes closer by the shoulder.
“Don’t do things the teacher doesn’t like. Just bring more drinks, Ethan.”
“…”
“That’s an order. Obey it.”
