Chapter 91
Petricks spoke in a voice full of outrage.
“You—you’re spouting nonsense just to screw with me, aren’t you? Huh?”
“You think I’d joke about Marsha like that?”
Lucas’s eyes gleamed white and wild. Petricks raked his fingers through his hair.
“Or maybe you’re just mistaken? How could that even make sense?”
“I talked with her myself. It was Marsha, I’m telling you!”
Lucas barked the words, his breath ragged as if he might erupt any moment. He scrubbed furiously at his eyes and begged,
“Please. Help me. If we secure the rights to sell western wine, within a few years you could be living like a noble yourself!”
“The duke hounds her like that and you want me to kidnap her? I’d be found out immediately. And when I am—I’ll be dead!”
“The duke left for Lubanan Port. He won’t return for at least ten days.”
“And how the hell would you know that?”
Petricks narrowed his eyes, suspicion sharp in his gaze.
“He said he was entering into some kind of business with Count Beberiz.”
As Lucas spoke, the memory of the count’s uneasy, conflicted face returned to him.
Almost looked frightened, didn’t he?
Perhaps they were plotting something more than business. But telling Petricks that would do nothing for Lucas’s cause. If anything, it might only make Petricks dig deeper into Claudio’s affairs.
“Damn it…”
Petricks cursed, his face twisting. Should he take the bait—or leave it? If they were caught, there was a good chance he would be disposed of before Lucas.
Just then, the secretary who had failed to stop Lucas earlier appeared at the door.
“Uh, boss…”
“What now?!”
“The young lady has sent someone to fetch you.”
“!”
By “the young lady,” he meant Beatrice. Without a moment’s hesitation, Petricks rose.
“We’re not finished here—”
Lucas tried to grab him, but Petricks’s sharp glare froze him in place.
“You know damn well it won’t end well for you if you cross me.”
“…”
“Until I call for you, sit tight and wait like the obedient dog you are. Understood?”
Clicking his tongue, Petricks stormed out of the office.
Left alone, Lucas scrubbed his dry face with both hands and muttered curses under his breath. Should he just stay here in this stinking office until Petricks returned? No. With that bastard’s temperament, he might take offense simply at being waited on.
Lucas decided instead to go home and figure out how he might take Marsha away on his own if Petricks refused to help.
His hand was already on the doorknob when he sensed a presence and turned.
A man lay sprawled on the floor, barely alive.
He’s still breathing?
If Petricks’s men hadn’t interfered that day, Lucas would have finished him off himself.
He must have heard everything.
Not just this conversation—surely countless others over the past four years. He had even witnessed that incident.
A fool who never learned a thing, never could do a thing…
Which was why he had lived like a ghost, silent and forgotten. Lucas himself had all but forgotten the man existed. But now, of all times, he had to appear before him. Clearly, his luck had run out.
Can’t leave behind something this dangerous.
Lucas slipped a hand into his jacket and closed it around the cold revolver. But he drew it back again.
Petricks was the problem. Tom was worthless—Petricks wouldn’t care if he died. But if Lucas killed someone in his office without permission, that was a different matter.
His pride wouldn’t forgive it.
Lucas grimaced. Tom would have to be dealt with “then,” when the time came to clean up everything at once.
Having resolved himself, Lucas left the room with indifference.
The moment he was gone, Tom released a choked gasp, panting in pain.
“Hhh… ahh…”
Shakily, he forced himself upright, every limb trembling. He hurt everywhere. But he couldn’t just stay here.
I—I have to tell the young lady…!
What Lucas was planning. And finally confess every sin he had witnessed over the years.
Leaving the building without Petricks’s permission would be nearly impossible. Reaching the Duke of Gloria’s mansion to see Marsha even harder.
And would she even believe me?
Tom didn’t know what had passed between Marsha and Lucas. He only knew that in all the years he’d hidden here, everyone had always spoken of the two as lifelong friends.
[Lucas, that bastard, was a master at pretense. Even as a child he kept his nature locked away, playing the role of the good, loyal friend before Lady Emelide. Incredible, really.]
Petricks had once sneered that while drunk. Bitter as the tone had been, it was true—Lucas had worn his mask perfectly before Marsha.
And what of Tom? He was just a miner, one who had come to escort Count Emelide on that fateful night. He was supposed to have died with him—and yet here he was, alive. Who could trust such a suspicious man?
There has to be something. Some proof she’ll believe.
Tom rifled through Petricks’s drawers without thinking. Even if there was nothing on Lucas, Petricks’ own crimes must be documented. If he could discredit Petricks, then Lucas—his business partner—might fall under suspicion too.
The drawers were a mess, filled with complex papers. An ordinary miner might have been baffled, but Tom had lived here four years. Even without formal explanations, he had pieced things together. He could guess which papers would be useful.
Can’t take everything—he’d know right away. Just enough to matter.
As he sifted through, his hand brushed against a small pouch.
What’s this…?
Opening the shabby bag, Tom froze.
“Th-this is…”
***
Petricks burst into the room, breathless, only for Beatrice to rush into his arms.
“Petricks!”
“B-Beatrice! I’ve been drinking, I… ”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I’m just so grateful you came when I called. It’s been so long.”
“W-what are you saying? If you call me, of course I’ll come running! I was terrified you’d never summon me again…”
His eyes brimmed with tears.
Beatrice wrinkled her nose in disgust at the reek of cheap liquor.
Ugh. Reeking, filthy man. Trash like this can’t shed their habits.
Unable to bear it, she slipped free of his embrace and went straight to the point, recounting what had just happened—twisting it, of course, to her own liking.
“The duke can’t possibly be serious about her. I was only worried the woman might get hurt. But that woman…”
Beatrice’s eyes shimmered with tears.
Petricks trembled with fury. This angel, who cared for him so, had been treated with arrogance?
How dare she—how dare that woman slight my Beatrice!
If not for Claudio, Marsha would never have dared such insolence.
Petricks ground his teeth.
“Petricks, I want her gone from here as soon as possible. Isn’t that what’s right?”
“Yes, Beatrice. You’re right. A woman so arrogant she can’t even appreciate your kindness deserves to disappear at once.”
Beatrice lowered her head with a troubled sigh.
“But she insists on staying… I don’t know what to do.”
“Leave that to me. I’ll handle it.”
“Really?”
Her face blossomed with a radiant smile.
Ah—what joy, to see her smile like that because of him!
“Of course. Trust me.”
When Lucas asked him for help, Petricks hesitated. But when it came to Beatrice, no request was too dangerous.
“Besides, the Duke of Gloria is away at Lubanan Port…”
“The duke is in Yubanan Port…?”
Beatrice asked sweetly, as if surprised. Petricks, thrilled, explained.
“Yes. On business. There’s no better time to get rid of her.”
Beatrice hid a sly smile behind her hand.
She had already known Claudio was gone—what she hadn’t expected was to learn exactly where.
Beatrice cupped Petricks’s face between her hands.
“!”
His face flushed crimson, his movements clumsy as she whispered, honeyed words.
“Petricks. You’ll handle everything perfectly for me, won’t you? Even if I’m not here?”
“Not here? Where are you going?”
She fluttered her lashes, laughing softly.
“I have… some unfinished business to take care of.”
***
Marsha asked her maid and coachman not to tell anyone she had met Beatrice. She didn’t want the butler or others to worry unnecessarily.
“Still, my lady… you should tell the duke,” the coachman urged.
“He’s bound to find out sooner or later,” the maid added, faces clouded with concern.
“Yes, you’re right. I’ll explain it to him carefully, so neither of you are to blame. Please don’t worry too much.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady.”
“Truly… thank you.”
Their gratitude made Marsha uncomfortable. They should have been resentful at being dragged into such trouble—yet they bowed their heads as if they owed her.
Because I’m a noble…
Nobles don’t make mistakes. If something goes wrong, it is always the commoners’ fault. That is the relationship between noble and commoner. And for servants, it is even worse. Displease your master, and you could be cast aside like a broken chair.
Back in her room, Marsha gazed out the window, lost in thought.
…I’ve been a terrible person.
As the count’s daughter, she had once vowed never to become like her father, but like her mother—kind to all, regardless of rank. But in truth, she had only been kind to those who treated her well.
Hadn’t she ignored the miner who died alongside her father? She had thought only of her father.
Some might excuse her—say that blood ties explained her grief, or that she had no room to think of others when her father had just died. But still…
What was his name again…?
If that man had been a noble, she would have known his name. She would have sought out his family.
But because he was a commoner, she didn’t care.
I’m no better. I’m disgusted too.
Chapter 90 and 91 is the same!~