CHAPTER 18…………………………………
“I was once affiliated with Count Rosenthein’s household. One of my elder brother’s business ventures dealt in wine, so I happened to hear about this.”
She continued her explanation while pointing to the section marked 923.
“In the year 923, the Kingdom of Iota’s grape harvest completely failed. As a result, no wine was produced that year at all.”
“……”
“In other words, there is no such thing as an Iota vintage from 923. If one exists, then it must be—”
A fake.
At Trisha’s pointed conclusion, Countess Yudel’s eyes wavered.
“What kind of lunatic wine enthusiast would dare present fake wine to Her Highness the Princess? It’s far more likely that someone ignorant was used as a pawn and sent here.”
This time, no one criticized Trisha’s biting remark.
They were afraid that speaking up might make it seem as though they were defending someone who had attempted to assassinate the princess.
Public opinion had shifted in an instant, and as if by prior agreement, everyone’s gaze converged on Countess Yudel.
Trisha continued calmly.
“If you ask anyone who knows even a little about wine, you’ll get the same answer.”
She set the bottle she had been holding down and went on.
“You could also send a letter to the place of production to confirm it. It would take some time, but—”
“Her Highness is correct.”
At that moment, a noblewoman raised her hand.
“Countess Adeline?”
“Your Highness, it’s embarrassing to admit, but wine collecting happens to be one of my hobbies as well…”
Countess Adeline trailed off cautiously before adding,
“There are no wines produced by the Kingdom of Iota from the year 923.”
Countess Adeline was not someone who liked to assert her opinions in public.
“The quality of the grapes was poor that year, so no wine was made.”
For her to raise her hand and speak out like this, the likelihood that it was true was high.
“Countess Yudel.”
Hestia slowly turned her head.
At the chill in her voice, Countess Yudel shuddered involuntarily.
“I—I have proof!”
Countess Yudel opened her tightly shut eyes and spoke.
“The letter I gave Your Highness earlier! It bears the seal of the Mason Ducal House!”
Hestia frowned slightly and asked,
“When exactly did you receive this letter from the Duchess?”
At that, Countess Yudel cheered inwardly.
I’ve got her!
She believed Hestia was beginning to doubt Trisha.
“Exactly two months ago. It was my husband’s birthday, so I remember clearly.”
“Countess Yudel.”
Hestia sighed and gestured to her maid.
The quick-witted maid brought something over.
“This is a letter the Duchess sent me ten days ago.”
Hestia revealed part of the letter.
“The handwriting is completely different from the one you submitted as evidence.”
“Couldn’t she have had someone else write it for her?”
“By that logic, the letter you presented can’t be considered evidence either. To put it bluntly, if you grabbed just anyone and had them write a letter while pretending to be me, would that prove you had corresponded with me?”
“But the letter bears the Mason Ducal seal—”
“It’s a fake.”
Trisha kindly produced a seal from her pocket and compared it.
“The size is slightly different.”
Countess Yudel’s face drained of all color.
Of course it is.
There was no way Marchioness Devon would have used the real seal of the Mason Ducal House for something like this.
After stamping it with a fake seal, she likely planned to claim it was a fabrication and escape blame if the letter was ever discovered.
In the end, Countess Yudel had been deceived again in this lifetime.
Completely.
“Countess Yudel.”
Trisha called to her gently.
“I heard you recently reopened your dress shop.”
“……”
“Where, exactly, did the money come from?”
At Trisha’s words, murmurs spread once more through the room.
“Come to think of it, didn’t she close the shop because of debt?”
“That’s right—what money did she use to reopen it? I heard Count Yudel is still under house arrest…”
“If she received support from Her Highness, that doesn’t make sense. The Mason Ducal House was drowning in debt until recently.”
“Exactly. They may have paid it all off thanks to the Duke’s return, but they’re hardly in a position of surplus.”
When the crowd’s attention had gathered just right, Trisha spoke again.
“It hasn’t been long since I took over management of the Mason Ducal seal.”
She spoke calmly.
“Until then, it was overseen by an elder of the family—Marchioness Devon.”
So wouldn’t it have been her who wrote the letter?
Everyone who grasped the implication of her unspoken words gasped in shock.
They hadn’t expected Trisha to openly target Marchioness Devon like this.
Marchioness Devon.
Before she was a marchioness, she was the Emperor’s mistress.
“Countess Yudel.”
Hestia’s cold voice rang out once more.
“Do you have anything further to say about this matter?”
“I do! I do, Your Highness!”
Unlike Trisha, who had calculated every word she spoke, Countess Yudel now seemed completely beside herself.
“It was Marchioness Devon! She ordered me to do everything!”
In her panic, she repeated the same words over and over, her pronunciation slurred.
“I only did what I was told! The plot to frame Her Highness—it was all Marchioness Devon’s—”
“That’s enough. I’ve heard your statement.”
Hestia cut her off.
This was becoming dangerous.
This was not only the princess’s palace, but the emperor’s.
Everyone knew Marchioness Devon was the emperor’s woman, and mentioning her any further would be unwise.
Just as the scales in Hestia’s heart tipped completely to one side, a commotion arose at the entrance to the banquet hall.
A servant announced loudly,
“His Imperial Majesty, the Great Sun of Efelberno, has arrived!”
Footsteps echoed through the hall amid a silence so deep it felt bottomless.
The Emperor was a middle-aged man with red hair and violet eyes, just like Hestia.
Despite his age, he possessed a powerfully built physique, though his face looked older than his years.
Still, the overwhelming pressure emanating from a face weathered by time alone showed exactly how he had come to rule Efelberno.
“We greet His Imperial Majesty.”
Everyone bowed respectfully at the emperor’s appearance, though their minds were racing.
The most important question was whose side the emperor would take.
Marchioness Devon, named as the mastermind behind the poisoning.
And Princess Hestia, who had nearly been poisoned.
His favored mistress, and his beloved daughter.
Trisha’s thoughts were no less tangled.
I think I know what choice His Majesty will make. But…
Whether that choice truly reflected the measure of his affection was another matter entirely.
“Raise your heads.”
After receiving a detailed report from a servant, the emperor glanced around the room.
“Countess Yudel.”
“Y-Yes! Your Majesty…”
“Stand.”
Though his tone was flat, Countess Yudel trembled as she rose, burdened by her guilt.
The interrogation itself was unremarkable.
He merely retraced the evidence and circumstances that had already been presented.
Throughout the questioning, the emperor did not once glance at Trisha.
Trisha, too, made no effort to draw attention to herself and remained quietly silent.
His Majesty never liked me much.
While Hestia was alive, it had been tolerable.
The emperor didn’t like Trisha, but he didn’t openly show his dislike either.
But after Hestia’s death, when the time came to choose a new heir, the emperor’s icy gaze turned toward Trisha.
“Will you do nothing at all for your husband?”
“In other words, do you even consider Edwin your husband?”
The emperor’s favor had clearly leaned toward Edwin rather than Millard.
Those words were likely spoken in that same context.
Perhaps he wanted to criticize me for holding my husband back while doing nothing myself…
Trisha Rosenthein was of mixed foreign blood.
In Efelberno, where nationality was paramount, there was no more fatal weakness than that.
If Edwin’s position were to end at duke, then it wouldn’t matter whether his wife was foreign-born or not.
But if he were to become emperor, that changed everything.
An empress with foreign blood.
Neither the nobles nor even the commoners of Efelberno would accept her.
And that would provide excellent justification for Edwin’s opposition.
That must be why Aunt tampered with Edwin’s and my marriage documents.
To make Edwin emperor, Trisha had to be removed.
But Edwin hates it when anyone interferes with his decisions.
So a direct confrontation wouldn’t work.
In the end, Marchioness Devon had no choice but to engineer the attempted poisoning of Lizaina, creating a situation where Trisha would have to be cast aside.
To persuade Edwin that he and Trisha had never been legally married in the first place—and that discarding her would solve everything.
That’s exactly how I was discarded in my previous life.
Perhaps the reason Edwin abandoned her then was because the emperor had seen through that hesitation in her heart.
Just like how Millard, despite abandoning her, could never bring himself to raise a sword against her.
That indecisive, half-hearted mercy.
At least in this life, that won’t happen.
From the moment Trisha Rosenthein opened her eyes again, she had been moving in only one direction.
“I will now pass judgment.”
At that moment, the emperor’s solemn voice echoed through the banquet hall.
Everyone held their breath as one.
