Chapter 104
* * *
That morning, Luto’s delegation arrived safely.
Conversations were exchanged in a friendly atmosphere, and news quickly spread that Hannibal, Miss Mighty, and the mages under their command had all shared pleasant conversation together.
“They say they’ll let the delegation rest today, then tomorrow they’ll sign the armistice document and hold a banquet in the evening.”
As usual, Gray was drinking with Count Arthur. Yet every time they met, the Count only grumbled about how to take Assad’s ring.
“Couldn’t we slip him a sleeping pill and steal the ring at dawn? Don’t you have some kind of enchanted tool that would do the trick?”
Gray only shrugged and refilled his empty glass.
“The day after tomorrow is the deadline Miss Mighty gave us. How can you say there’s no way?”
“……”
“That’s why I told you not to insist on checking inside the thing in the first place—!”
Whenever he drank, Count Arthur would vent his frustrations by blaming Gray.
Once or twice, maybe. But abandoned by Ann, even Gray’s patience had worn paper-thin.
“Count, you really don’t know a thing about your son.”
Hannibal acted as though he could end his engagement with just one word, but it had been nothing more than bravado.
Clicking his tongue, Gray looked down on the Count with a pitiful gaze.
The twenty-year-old duke, practically the Count’s grandson in age, regarded him with contempt—and all Arthur’s fingers could grip was his wineglass.
“And what, the Duke knows Hannibal better than I do? Do you have a way to get Assad’s ring?”
“…Yes.”
Gray wet his dry throat before replying.
“…What? What is it?”
Forgetting his usual arrogance, Count Arthur leapt at Gray’s words. Gray set down his cup with a sharp clack.
“Do you know what Hannibal Cleyd’s weakness is, Count?”
“Weakness?”
Ever since he had been conned by a woman in the capital, Hannibal had no particular attachments, nothing he cherished.
He looked after Victoria, his half-sister, but it wasn’t with special affection. He cared for his people, but that was only his duty as a lord—not a vulnerability.
Then, catching the desolate glint in Gray’s eyes, the Count suddenly thought of someone.
Impossible—
“Ann Pero?”
“Correct.”
Gray shook the wine bottle before the Count’s clouded eyes. When the Count lifted his cup, Gray poured the clear liquid until it brimmed.
“Your son cherishes my woman very much.”
“No, no—that’s not it—”
The Count waved his hand dismissively at Gray’s crooked tone.
“Hannibal is just being proper, that’s all. It’s not that he loves or values her. He only got engaged to that maid to defy me, and now he refuses to break it off for the same reason. How could he ever—”
After a few glasses, the Count’s words flowed unfiltered.
Even as Gray sat before him, intent on making that maid a duchess.
The Count barely pulled himself together, his pupils sharp with alarm.
“Anyway, Hannibal and Ann aren’t like that. The lords of Cleyd don’t create weaknesses. That’s how his mother raised him.”
“Hearing you speak, it seems you are a Cleyd from the West after all, Count. In the end, blood calls to blood.”
When Gray gave him that look, Arthur shook his head so hard his white hair whipped around.
“Never! My wish is for Cleyd to be destroyed—ugh.”
So often they drank and spoke together that the Count had grown careless. He caught himself too late, lips clamped shut, while Gray already wore a triumphant smile.
“So even the western lords’ houses are nothing special. Don’t take it as mockery—it’s no different with the dukes.”
“Right. No matter where you go—capital or provinces—there’s not a man among them who isn’t rotten.”
Blind to the insult he’d just uttered against himself, the Count relaxed again, soothed by Gray’s agreement.
After humoring him with small talk, Gray tossed out a question that had genuinely been nagging at him.
“Did the witch promise Cleyd would fall if she delivered the Golden Key?”
“Huh? Ah… y-yes.”
The Count, mid-sip, realized his slip at once. Gray’s eyes gleamed as he studied him, but Arthur, oblivious, hurriedly steered the conversation back.
“Anyway, how do you intend to use Hannibal’s weakness? What will you do about Ann Pero?”
When the Count set down his glass, Gray took another sip.
Resting his chin on one hand, he tapped his finger against the table.
He had thought it through already. But speaking it aloud would mean carrying it out.
“In truth, I hold Ann Pero’s weakness in my hands.”
“Oh? And what is it?”
The Count leaned forward eagerly. Gray’s gaze, however, shifted past him—toward the door.
“Jamie.”
At his call, the door opened quietly, and his most trusted valet stepped inside.
The day Luto’s delegation arrived, only greetings were exchanged.
The formal meeting took place the following day. Gathered at the specially prepared hall were Lord Hannibal, the Luto delegation led by Miss Mighty, and Duke Benton, who represented both the capital and the crown prince.
“How was the atmosphere inside the conference room?”
“According to the servant who carried in refreshments, not bad at all. The mages even said they’d always wanted to see the West at least once. They seemed very curious about the witch and her descendants.”
What a relief. Hearing the butler’s report, Ann sighed with relief.
While negotiations continued over afternoon tea, Ann was busy preparing for the banquet. She checked the newly decorated party hall, reviewed the dinner menu and order of courses, and only then headed to the dressing room.
“My lady, the lord has sent you a splendid gift.”
Beaming, Donna brought forward a necklace encrusted with diamonds.
“Isn’t it… a bit much?”
“Not at all. You’re Cleyd’s fiancée—this is perfectly fitting.”
She draped the necklace around Ann’s neck, looking proud and satisfied.
If it had been only this, it wouldn’t have felt so overwhelming.
But Hannibal had sent not just a diamond necklace.
For this evening, new dresses, hair ornaments, and even shoes had been specially ordered and delivered.
“Our lord was always the symbol of frugality, but to go this far shows how dearly he treasures you. From now on, I’ll treat you with full honorifics, so no more telling me it feels awkward, Lady Ann!”
“Lady…? Ugh.”
At the word, goosebumps ran down Ann’s arms.
“You’re still only his fiancée, so I’ll call you ‘lady’ until you officially become mistress of the castle. Soon enough, it’ll be ‘madam’ instead, so you’d better get used to it~.”
Mistress of Tengenes Castle…
Gazing at her reflection, Ann felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
An extravagant gown that didn’t suit her, heavy jewels choking her throat, shoes so high her steps trembled to the tips of her toes.
“You look absolutely stunning~.”
Donna and the other maids chorused in agreement. Ann erased her doubtful expression, raised her brows with haughty grace, and smiled.
“Yes. It does suit me.”
It wasn’t all weight and burden anymore—not like in her past life.
No longer was she Ann Pero, desperately forcing herself into a place that wasn’t hers.
This time, she stood where she did by her own will, with chosen goals and plans—not merely someone else’s charity or luck.
Until the Benton dukedom fell, she had to appear every inch a member of House Cleyd.
Framed as vengeance, standing by Hannibal’s side no longer felt so oppressive.
There was even a thrill of anticipation in her chest.
“Ann.”
At some point, Hannibal had come, standing at the dressing room door.
“Hannibal.”
She turned at his call, and his violet eyes widened in astonishment.
“…You are beautiful.”
“Thank you. It’s all thanks to your gifts.”
“No—my gifts shine because of you.”
Declaring it, Hannibal offered his hand. Ann lightly rested hers on his arm, and he naturally guided her into the corridor.
Soon the two walked side by side, arriving at the party hall.
Inside, already lively with the impending feast, the air was buzzing.
The moment they entered, Victoria, chatting with Luto’s mages, waved at Ann.
After returning the gesture, Ann lingered awkwardly until Hannibal tapped her arm and led her toward the delegation.
“This is my fiancée, Ann Pero.”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Hannibal made the introduction with deliberate pride.
Some before them were the same mages Ann had spoken with in the lobby yesterday, but most were western nobles residing in Tengenes.
They must have heard the rumors. They must know she had once been a head maid.
Would someone pick a fight? If they did, she wouldn’t take it lying down. Whatever anyone said, she was the lord’s fiancée now.
With the mages she exchanged friendly greetings. Before the wary western nobles, she lifted her chin and waist proudly, offering her hand with poised elegance.
“It is an honor to meet the lord’s fiancée in person.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
She made sure to reply with warmth and friendliness, even as she kept her proud bearing.
Soon enough, the nobles—who found Hannibal hard to approach—began speaking more easily with Ann instead.
Especially when they noticed her necklace, the noble ladies’ eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“How beautiful! So this is the gem the lord spent such a fortune on?”
“That’s right.”
Contrary to her fears, no one voiced rude questions or discomfort.
At times, someone would slip up, but then another guest would hush them or lead them away.
Unaware that Hannibal was glaring daggers behind her all the while, Ann gradually relaxed and even began to enjoy the banquet.
