Chapter 18
Perhaps thanks to the effects of the medicine, I didn’t hesitate even a bit before grabbing him by the collar. If he acted a little more annoyingly, I felt like I could slap him across the face right then and there.
“Where’s the antidote? Give it to me.”
Before I kill him halfway.
“W-what are you saying!”
The servant, sensing the danger, protested fiercely.
“I don’t know what antidote you’re talking about!”
“I heard everything.”
“W-what… do you mean?”
Ha! So he’s going to keep pretending not to know, huh?
The surge of anger I felt at his insolent behavior was undoubtedly due to the medicine.
If I wanted to avoid hitting him, I had to summon every ounce of patience from deep within myself.
I pulled out the magical tool I had in my pouch—the secret device Chiron had given me.
“Let’s see if you’ll still deny it after seeing this.”
Earlier at the banquet, I had identified Miss Stover as a person of interest among the attendees.
I had been carefully noting her words and actions since then: the things she poured out at me in the waiting room, insisting I drink champagne earlier, and just now, the conversation she had in the storage room with the servant.
Everything was meticulously recorded in this notebook.
“The conversation you just had with Miss Stover? It’s all written here.”
“…!”
The servant’s eyes widened.
“Eh? Wh-what…! How is that even possible!”
He lunged to snatch the notebook from me.
Seeing that, my anger boiled even more. I had to struggle to hold onto the last thread of my sanity.
“The misdeeds you and that lady carried out left clear evidence. With proof this clear, there’s only one way to avoid punishment—you’d better reflect now and hand over the antidote, right?”
I showed the notebook spread open before his eyes.
The servant’s pupils trembled violently as he read what was written.
“See? Everything you two said is recorded exactly as it happened.”
“Ho-how….”
Before he could reach for it, I snapped the notebook shut and put it back in my pouch.
“You’re the one who has the antidote, so hand it over immediately. If you do, I might go easy on you.”
Even as I spoke, my fists trembled from the tight grip. The medicine’s effect was stronger than I thought—I felt like I might end up hitting the servant.
No. Once I used violence, there would be no turning back.
Even if I had been drugged, a violent incident would be a serious disgrace.
People would focus more on the violence than on the fact that I was unfairly medicated. It would become a far more sensational incident.
“I-I’ll give it to you!”
The servant was quick to grasp the situation. He must have realized that it was better to repent now than continue siding with Miss Stover.
“If you don’t hand it over quickly, I might hit you in my anger. You don’t want that, right? So give it to me fast.”
“Y-yes! I-I’ll give it to you now!”
The servant shakily retrieved a small bottle from his pocket.
“J-just a little should be enough. A few sips of this will neutralize all the medicine you’ve taken today.”
I snatched the bottle and took a few sips of the antidote.
The servant watched me tremble as I drank it, which was irritating in itself. The medicine made even small things grate on my nerves.
It seemed I would burn through a year’s worth of patience today.
“Now that I’ve helped you, you’ll acknowledge that, right?”
“Yes.”
Drinking the antidote didn’t seem to have an immediate effect. My anger was still boiling.
Once back in the banquet hall, my first target would be Miss Stover.
With everything she had done to me carefully recorded, there was no way she could slip away.
I wiped my mouth and gestured to the servant with my finger.
“You’re coming with me. If you try to run or mess up, be prepared to die.”
It was time to return to the banquet hall.
Lucy Stover had stepped out of the hall onto a small balcony. The medicine she had ingested earlier had stirred anger within her.
If this continued, she might get angry before the Duchess herself. She had gone out to the balcony to be away from people.
She even closed the door to keep others from entering.
One wrong move, and she felt like she might resort to violence.
Thankfully, the antidote was taking effect, and her emotions had calmed considerably.
It was fortunate she had it—having a remedy for any type of drug in her possession was a relief.
Even apart from the medicine, she was in a bad mood.
She was still angry thinking about the moment the Duchess had swapped her drink.
She had assumed the Duchess was a foolish, thoughtless person.
Swapping the glass was a blatant sign of suspicion—a rude act. Naturally, she hadn’t expected the Duchess to do such a thing.
Besides, the Duchess had a kind and simple personality.
Underestimating her could have caused serious trouble. From now on, she would need to plan more carefully.
There were still many steps left in her plan to bring the Duchess down.
Today, her aim was to provoke the Duchess into a fit of rage, making her lash out at anyone nearby.
And now she knew firsthand how effective the medicine could be.
She had prepared for this because she had learned that the Duke and Duchess would attend the banquet.
If the Duchess’s reputation plummeted, the Duke would cast her out.
The Duke’s behavior was somewhat troubling. He clearly had no affection for the Duchess, yet he had carried her off mid-dance—quite unlike the man she knew.
There was no way this was some sudden romance straight out of a novel.
Lucy smiled faintly.
The Duke was not that type of man.
He wasn’t obsessed with a marriage that had long since ended. He had given up on the Duchess’s seat on the day of the wedding.
But she could not tolerate someone arrogantly enjoying power and luxury beyond their station.
She planned to slowly bring the Duchess down, making her return to her rightful place and feel as though her brief marriage had been an illusion.
This was not evil; she was simply taking matters into her own hands to correct a wrong.
Now that the anger induced by the medicine had mostly subsided, Lucy decided it was time to return.
The Duchess would likely cause a scene from the effects of the medicine, and Lucy did not want to miss the spectacle.
She stepped out onto the balcony.
Surveying the hall, she saw as she had hoped—a crowd had gathered, causing a commotion in one corner.
Of course. Her plan was flawless.
A smirk spread across her lips.
She needed to see up close how messy it would get.
She moved toward the crowd, her steps unusually light.
Shouts reached her ears.
“Your Grace!”
As planned, the crowd was calling out to the Duchess.
Surely she must have caused a scene.
Had she struck someone? Or was she enraged over something trivial?
It was unfortunate for whoever the victim was, but sacrifices were necessary for greater goals.
Lucy approached with enjoyment.
“Your Grace!”
“Madam, are you alright?”
However… hearing the closer shouts, Lucy sensed something was wrong.
“Al… alright?”
That was odd. Normally, the question of being alright is asked to the one struck, not the one striking.
Pushing through the crowd, she got closer.
She needed to assess the situation.
“Your Grace!”
“Call the Duke!”
A raspy voice drew near ominously.
No, that shouldn’t be…
The drug she had taken was meant to cause mental confusion, not physical symptoms.
She knew this because she had experienced it herself. Without the antidote, she would still be boiling with anger.
But the Duchess, standing before her as she got closer, was… vomiting blood. The sight was excruciating.
The people around the Duchess were trying to help her, filled with concern. The sight of her vomiting blood evoked pity.
This couldn’t be.
Lucy shook her head and stepped back.
The Duchess wasn’t foolish enough to make it obvious she had drugged someone.
If she were vomiting blood, people would surely suspect poison!
She had planned to make it seem like a flaw in the Duchess’s personality, all without anyone noticing.
Could it be that the Duchess had noticed everything and intentionally caused this? Even vomiting blood?
Considering the vile words and the glass-swapping earlier, it wasn’t impossible.
The Duchess was more malicious than Lucy had anticipated.
She ground her teeth.
Better to leave this place. That vile woman might target her and say something absurd.
She began stepping back slowly, trying to retreat.
“Your Grace!”
“The Duke has arrived!”
The murmuring crowd announced an unwelcome presence.
