LUW 40

Chapter 40 

“The newspaper that’s attacking you the most blatantly is, fortunately, a minor one. The kind that easily gets bought off with bribes.”

“R-right? No matter what, how could they publish something so ridiculous…”

“The problem is that similar suspicions are now spreading to the mainstream newspapers too.”

At the end of his words, Pierre handed her a few more papers. Cecilia quickly skimmed through them. The overall message was clear:

A woman, drawn to the frontier count’s wealth, approached him. When he rejected her, she harbored resentment and set fire to his workshop. Now, she had shifted her target to Duke Cardinand.

Cecilia’s eyes turned dead and cold as she read through the articles. When she reached the line saying she “fell in love at first sight with the frontier count,” she couldn’t hold back her fury and tore the paper to shreds.

Despite that outburst, Pierre remained calm, sipping his tea from across the table.

“They’ve all gone insane, haven’t they? Who fell for who at first sight? That old perverted pig?”

Recalling the frontier count’s face again, Cecilia gagged in disgust. She had held back her emotions for the sake of clearing her family’s name—but now someone dared to spread such outrageous rumors?

And now they were saying she was after the Duke too? If anyone read these articles, they’d think she was a notorious villainess.

Her chest heaved in outrage, and Pierre chuckled quietly. Cecilia’s lips jutted out in a pout.

“Exactly which part of this is funny?”

“Hmm. Your harsh critique of the count? Since you walked with him so tenderly, I thought maybe he was your type.”

Cecilia furrowed her brows, realizing he’d been watching her for some time.

“Seriously? Like I’d ever like someone like that. If I were to date anyone, I’d be super picky.”

Cecilia began describing her ideal type, just in case she ever had to get married.

“Tall, fit, with deep eyes and a defined nose. A guy so handsome that no one could deny it. Certainly not someone like that greasy old frontier count. Maybe someone like His Grace the Duke, at most…”

“…”

As she dramatically counted her fingers for emphasis, she noticed Pierre sitting right at the end of her line of vision—his face practically a perfect match to what she’d just described. Her sentence naturally trailed off.

Cecilia’s face flushed bright red and she hurried to change the subject.

“No, what I mean is—”

“I’m glad my face is your type.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“If it weren’t, you might’ve torn me to shreds like that newspaper.”

While Cecilia blushed in embarrassment, Pierre remained unbothered, smiling as he teased her.

Cecilia sighed, realizing it would take her a hundred more years to win a verbal spar with him. But Pierre’s expression changed as he set down his teacup.

“Enough jokes. Let’s get serious.”

He stared down at the newspapers spread across the table.

“As you may have guessed, all these rumors were planted by the frontier count.”

Of course. That perverted lunatic.

“Any idea why?”

Cecilia furrowed her brow and thought.

“Maybe because I found the ‘real’ warehouse?”

“But the warehouse was already burned down. There was no evidence left. So we got through it okay.”

Cecilia nodded with a puzzled expression. Seeing that she still didn’t quite get it, Pierre explained further.

“Let me rephrase it. If that assassin was working for the real culprit, then why would the culprit burn down the frontier count’s warehouse—his own supply source? They’re on the same side.”

“That’s what I found the most puzzling too. Why would they?”

“The assassin was a warning sent by the real culprit.”

“A warning? Why…?”

“What do you think?”

Pierre’s serious gaze met hers, and a memory suddenly clicked in Cecilia’s mind.

Garfas’s death—it had also been a warning from the real culprit.

Cecilia spoke coldly.

“They were warning me not to expose my identity. Not to let outsiders get close to me anymore.”

“Exactly. That’s why they attacked you—to send a message.”

Pierre pointed at the newspaper headline: “The Frontier Count’s Warehouse Reduced to Ashes.”

“You were getting too close to the truth, so the real culprit stepped in personally. And told the count to deal with you himself.”

Cecilia tilted her head.

“If they wanted to deal with me, wouldn’t it have been easier to just kill me? Especially since they have such skilled assassins.”

Pierre raised an eyebrow in warning. He didn’t like how casually she talked about her own death.

When she shrugged, he sighed.

“Sure, that might be easier. But you’re already known as the lady of a family linked to gun crimes. So words might be more effective than a blade.”

“…It’s brutal, how easily people are swayed by a few rumors.”

Cecilia’s face darkened. If such articles kept spreading, even her family—despite avoiding the central social circles—would eventually be pulled into the scandal.

Worst of all, if her family was disgraced because of these rumors, she wouldn’t be able to bear the anger.

Then Pierre, who had been watching her, said:

“But Cecilia, you already know how to turn this around.”

“I do?”

She couldn’t imagine she knew any brilliant trick…

Then suddenly, she recalled how some nobles’ attitudes had shifted after her dance with Pierre at the count’s party.

Her eyes widened, and Pierre smiled knowingly.

“Just like you said, nobles are easily swayed by words. So let’s spread our own version in the same way.”

Cecilia was impressed. Pierre clearly knew how to survive in the brutal world of high society.

Feeling fired up, she followed him, all dressed up, as he led her somewhere.

They arrived at the best teahouse in the downtown center.

Cecilia stepped out of the carriage and looked up at the three-story luxurious teahouse, frowning.

“He talks like a strategist but acts like this…”

Pierre smiled at her grumbling.

“If you have something to say, say it louder.”

“I have nothing to say.”

Pierre offered his arm.

“Hold on properly. We don’t want your wound reopening.”

As she reached for his arm, Cecilia paused. People were starting to notice them—after all, the pair had recently made headlines.

Even though the articles were lies, she worried Pierre might get dragged into trouble with her.

She couldn’t bring herself to take his arm.

Instead, in a voice just loud enough for him to hear, she said:

“A lot of eyes are on us. I’ll just walk beside you. You go in first—”

At that moment, Pierre took her hand and placed it firmly on his arm. Looking at her gently, he said:

“The only person you need to worry about here is me. Just remember that.”

With that, he escorted her upstairs. They were guided to a beautiful terrace table.

Cecilia felt awkward, conscious of the watching eyes, but Pierre only became more tender in his gestures.

As she leaned toward him, looking like she had something to say, Pierre brought his ear close.

“Is this some kind of full-on counterattack?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, people are saying I’m seducing you for your money, and here we are acting like this… is it okay?”

“So, am I being successfully seduced?”

“This isn’t the time for jokes.”

Cecilia frowned. Pierre chuckled again.

“You’re right. People’s gazes matter. So, what do you think they see right now?”

“…A date, probably.”

Though it was all an act, Pierre’s gentle demeanor was making an impression. Women nearby were already blushing.

As if confirming her answer, Pierre tucked a loose strand of hair behind Cecilia’s ear and said:

“Right. There’s no one-sided relationship here, like the papers say. Let’s make that clear—naturally.”

“…Didn’t you say we should let the wind carry the words we want?”

“The wind’s already started blowing, Cecilia. Just watch—see how words ride the wind and spread.”

At those words, Pierre’s gaze shifted—toward the garden below the terrace.