After thinking for a moment longer, the Marchioness suddenly stood up and went to find the Marquis.
“I have a good plan.”
The Marquis, already heated from office work, gestured irritably toward his wife.
“Say it quickly.”
“It’s not easy to topple the Duke of Richmond while he’s inside the Richmond estate.”
“So?”
“No matter how I think about it, there’s only one perfect excuse to remove the Duke from his own estate.”
“And that is?”
“Treason.”
At that word, the Marquis’s expression turned annoyed.
“Treason?”
“We link the Duke with the ‘Invisible Ones’—the rebels Her Majesty the Empress declared traitors.”
“But the former Duke and Duchess were killed by the ‘Invisible Ones.’ And you want to pin that charge on their son? Are you insane?”
“You’re so hasty. Who said anything about pinning it on the Duke?”
“Then… wait, don’t tell me…”
As realization dawned, the Marchioness lowered her voice.
“Yes. The woman he brought with him.”
The Marquis immediately sat up straight, nodding for her to go on.
“If that woman turns out to be one of the ‘Invisible Ones,’ you can publicly question the Duke’s judgment. Who would trust a man who gave the Duchess’s chambers to the very enemy who killed her parents?”
“But we don’t know her identity.”
“When I visited the Duke earlier, I tested her—she didn’t mention her surname. Now, why do you think that is?”
“She must be someone who can’t reveal her family name?”
“And in the Decan Empire, where do people who can’t say their surnames gather? In the fugitive villages near the Wall of Death.”
The Marquis slowly stroked his chin.
“Hmm… I was wondering where he met the woman. If it was there… yes, it adds up. But what if she manages to prove her identity clearly?”
“We’ll have to make sure that’s not possible.”
“How?”
The Marchioness leaned in.
“First, send a hawk to Her Majesty the Empress. We must give her a heads-up that the ‘Invisible Ones’ will appear briefly in Richmond. And then, quietly prepare the people I mention.”
“Alright, fine. But how exactly are you going to frame her? You’d better do it well.”
“The inner court of the Duke’s estate is in the palm of my hand.”
A cruel glint shone in the Marchioness’s eyes.
“Two maids are enough. I’ve already picked just the right pair.”
＊ ＊ ＊
Meanwhile, Grace was reading through the documents Eric had brought her.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
Grace, reviewing the profit margin again, looked up in disbelief.
“Eric. I should be the one asking for a reward—this kind of return is incredible.”
“And if I do ask for a reward, will you give me anything?”
“Of course. You earned this.”
“It was by your command.”
Grace chuckled softly and turned her eyes back to the papers.
Easy money always goes to the first to reach for it.
From the Empress down to countless nobles in the capital, many treated the Taylor estate’s wealth as easy pickings. And rightfully so—because the current Duke of Taylor treated it the same way. He clung to the family seal as if it were his lifeline but spent the family fortune as if trying to use it all up before being kicked out.
As though he might be expelled any day now.
“Grace! Just stamp all these papers and send them off!”
“Shouldn’t I at least review—”
“These are my decisions! Are you saying you don’t trust me?! How dare you!”
“…”
“Just shut up and stamp them!! Got it?!”
The trust, honor, and wealth built layer by layer by the Dukes of Taylor were shaking like tectonic plates in an earthquake.
Grace had no intention of crumbling under that disaster. Instead, she decided to use the Duke’s reckless spending against him.
One of the things she did was funnel some of the family’s wealth elsewhere. The current Duke didn’t even know what the documents looked like—he had zero interest.
Grace entrusted part of that misappropriated wealth to Eric, who used it to build a merchant guild.
Handing the documents back, Grace said:
“Well done. Take 50% of the net profit this time—it’s yours, so make good use of it.”
Eric’s eyes deepened at her words.
Back when loyal vassals of the Taylor family began to die mysteriously, Eric’s father—the previous Viscount Napier—had also perished. Eric, adrift after losing his father so suddenly, had been approached by a young girl.
She spoke with the authority of a master:
“Stop crying and get up. You can cry after we get revenge on the one who killed your father—and mine.”
Grace had ordered him to build wealth through the merchant guild.
They couldn’t meet often. Even this was their first meeting in nearly a year.
Each time they met, his once-young master had grown more composed. Her jaw had become more defined, her gaze deeper. And as her eyes gained depth, so too did his feelings for her.
Grace always rewarded him for his success, but that wasn’t his true reward.
“Eric?”
When he didn’t reply, Grace tilted her head in curiosity.
Eric gave her his most charming smile—long eyes curving like crescent moons, lips curling up to reveal a flash of white teeth. It was the smile that left noblewomen swooning.
But his master, the one who owned him, only looked at him with a calm expression, devoid of emotion.
“Not enough?” she asked.
Eric felt a chill pass through him as he replied:
“Why do you keep insisting on giving me a share of the profits?”
“Because this money came from both my capital and your effort. It’s only fair to share.”
“I belong to you, my lady.”
So even my efforts are yours.
That absolute trust… sometimes, he fantasized about making everyone around Grace disappear—just so only he would remain. Just so he could become her everything.
“I trust you. I simply want to honor your hard work.”
The monstrous fantasy scattered like dust. The warmth that had begun to bloom in his cold chest faded.
Then Jesse’s voice rang out:
“You need to leave now!”
Grace nodded subtly, and Eric gathered the documents, adding one last bit of news.
“The Marchioness’s maid requested information on your identity.”
At that, Grace felt a sharp current crawl up her spine.
“She suspects you’re a commoner with no surname. I told them it would take three months to retrieve any information. I also hinted that you might be from a fugitive village near the Wall of Death.”
A small smile touched Grace’s lips.
“Well done. Good work.”
“If I hear more, I’ll report back immediately.”
Eric’s crimson eyes curved like a crescent moon. As he turned to leave, he paused briefly—then asked the question that had been weighing on him.
“Once you reclaim the Taylor estate… that’s the end of things with the Duke of Richmond, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
Her light and nonchalant answer came without hesitation. At that, Eric didn’t linger any longer and exited the room.
Like Walter suspected, it wasn’t that Eric hadn’t recognized him. Eric had seen Grace entering the estate in Walter’s arms.
“Take care. I hope to see you again soon.”
“Yes. Take good care of her.”
“What a needless worry.”
After a quick word to Jesse, Eric declined Joseph’s offer to escort him—and disappeared so swiftly and silently that Joseph was left impressed.
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Joseph muttered:
“What kind of training did you people receive?”
Jesse glanced down the corridor where footsteps approached and replied casually:
“Hunter training.”
“Hunters?”
Jesse grinned.
“Staying quiet—then biting down hard.”
“….”
As Joseph made a sour face, two maids appeared at the end of the corridor. They were the same ones who had previously led Grace to the chandelier room.
They pushed a cart carrying trays with domed plates. Judging from the smell, it must be dinner.
Jesse’s eyes gleamed like a hunter spotting prey.
To be continued…
