Chapter 42
“Father told me to deliver a message. He said he’ll soon visit the main mansion, using Bari’s illness as an excuse — and when that happens, he wants you to help him, to create a little… opportunity.”
“I see. I heard about Miss Bari’s condition. It’s unfortunate to hear that someone once so healthy has fallen ill.”
That didn’t sound like sympathy at all. He really did sound… bored.
“Did my father ask you for anything else?”
“Something else?”
“Yes.”
Bar remembered what Gillian had ordered him to find — the mole crest, the symbol that proved who the true head of House Dante was.
Should he mention it?
Father trusts Scar. But… so does my sister.
Was Scar on Eileen’s side, or Father’s?
I should’ve asked her beforehand…
Scar must have noticed Bar’s hesitation, because he smiled kindly and spoke softly.
“Young master, I heard from the other servants that you’ve recently decided to support Lady Eileen, is that right?”
“…Yes.”
“Then you should know — I’m the person she trusts most. So if there’s anything important you need to tell her, you can tell me instead.”
Hearing that, Bar suddenly felt a spark of confidence.
“There are two valuable treasures in the Marquis’s family. The mole crest, of course — but also the secret heirloom passed down through generations. My father… he wants to retrieve that heirloom too.”
“Ah, I see.”
“But he doesn’t know where it is. The loan sharks tore apart the house during their raid, so everything’s a mess.”
“That’s truly unfortunate…”
Scar lowered his voice as if saddened.
“Then I suppose we’ll have to search even harder.”
“I guess so. Especially with Bari’s condition right now…”
“I can only hope she recovers quickly. I wish your family peace.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll take my leave first. If we walk out together, people might get suspicious. Wait a bit, and then leave after me.”
Scar bowed and left the room.
Bar wiped the sweat from his palms onto his trousers. He wished it were him lying sick instead of Bari.
I could handle being sick. But if my stupidity causes trouble… I could never forgive myself.
He’d almost spilled a secret just now.
Bari once told me — to understand a person’s heart, listen to what they call others.
Scar called Gillian “Lord of the House.”
But he called Eileen “My Lady.”
Even Tangent, the maid, addressed Eileen as “My Lady” in private but respectfully said “Milady” in formal settings — with genuine respect.
No… Scar can’t be trusted. No one even knows where he really came from.
Bar remembered something his father once told him.
“He looks young, but he’s dangerous. Don’t go near him until I say so, Bar.”
“Dangerous? What do you mean? Is he a criminal?”
“Who knows. But he’s not from the Marquis’s lands. I tried to find out where he came from, but no one knows.”
“Usually, people who hide their pasts have good reasons… and not the good kind.”
“He had a recommendation letter from a lower noble house, so I had no choice but to take him in. He even offered to work for free during his probation. But still — someone who hides his birthplace has something to hide.”
His father had said it with a scowl.
Even so, because Scar was so competent, he’d soon become close to the rest of the household.
Suspicious. He smells like bandits. Like danger itself.
After waiting a bit, Bar quietly slipped out of the room too — and went straight to find Eileen.
“The lord is currently busy. Please come back later,” said Tangent.
“It’s urgent.”
Tangent nodded gravely.
“Then allow me to deliver her message instead. Lady Eileen asked that you stay by Bari’s side tonight.”
She hesitated, as if she’d been told more but didn’t want to say it aloud — maybe afraid it would sound like a bad omen.
“Your lady is very worried about you, you know,” Tangent added gently.
Stupid sister.
If you’re a noble, you should punish those who mocked you — not forgive them. Why are you always so soft? Is that why you accepted someone like me?
Bar bit his lip, holding back tears, and went to the sickroom.
His pale sister lay motionless, still unconscious.
“Bari… I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”
“……”
“Please wake up soon. At dinner, big sis made your favorite — tomato spaghetti. Let’s eat together when you wake up, okay…?”
***
The Marquis’s estate consisted of two main buildings: the main mansion and the annex.
While the main building was still under repair, the annex looked ancient — so old that even Eileen, who hated leaving any space unused, refused to touch it. It looked like it would collapse if a single ant bumped into it.
Still, at least it smelled of life now. Not because the building had been restored — but because people were actually living inside it.
Unfortunately… that wasn’t always a good thing.
Ugh. It stinks.
Scar wrinkled his nose.
The moment he entered the annex, a foul stench hit him — the smell of rot, waste, and vomit. Empty bottles rolled on the floor, reeking of cheap alcohol.
Was this a house, a pigsty, or an open sewer?
Well, those are basically the same thing.
He sighed.
Still, it was once the residence of a noble — someone who’d grown up learning law, politics, and accounting since childhood.
Scar wrapped a white cloth around the filthy doorknob before opening it. But before he could, a woman’s furious voice rang out from inside.
“How long are we supposed to live like this?!”
“Lillith!”
“This is too much! Even before the bandits captured us, you said the same things — ‘Endure it, just a little longer, I’ll make us happy, just trust me!’ And look at us now!”
Through the crack in the door, Scar could see Lillith crying.
“I can’t live like this anymore! I’ve had enough of eating rats to survive! If I’d known it’d turn out like this, I would’ve never married you! I was happier mopping floors at the Duke’s estate!”
She finished shouting and stormed out.
When she saw Scar at the door, her eyes widened — then she looked down, humiliated, and hurried away.
“I’m sorry, Lillith! Don’t go! Please—!”
Gillian’s voice followed her, but she didn’t turn back.
“Damn it! Scar, why didn’t you stop her?!”
Gillian turned his anger on the nearest target.
“How could I lay hands on a lady?”
“Useless as always.”
“I apologize for my uselessness.”
Scar bowed deeply.
“What about the document you were supposed to locate?”
“I found where it’s kept — in the second drawer of her desk. The lady herself told me she keeps all important documents there.”
“Excellent. When we enter the main mansion tomorrow, we’ll search there first.”
“And Young Master Bar?”
“He’s gone. Too busy worrying about his sister to listen to anything. Even when I told him to bring me the mole crest, he ignored me.”
So… the letter is in the second drawer, is it?
Gillian smiled faintly.
“I’ll look for it as soon as I get back.”
“No, Lord Gillian,” Scar interrupted politely. “It would be better to delay the search. For now, focus on returning to the main mansion.”
“Why’s that?”
“When people know where something valuable is, they tend to get nervous — they might move or hide it. It’s best to confirm later if the letter is truly still in that drawer.”
“Hm. True enough. Smart thinking. I raised you well, Scar — clever as always.”
“You flatter me, my lord.”
“Oh, by the way…” Scar added casually, “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
“Like what?”
“Well, aside from the letter and the mole crest — there’s something else that’s just as important, isn’t there?”
“You mean the family’s secret treasure.”
Gillian recalled his father’s old words — about the sacred heirloom that protected their family. His father had told him to remember it in times of great crisis.
“But what would you do with that information?”
“We’re on the same side, aren’t we? I just wish to help you find it and present it properly.”
“Hmph…”
Gillian eyed him carefully.
“…You’re not planning to sell it, are you?”
Ah. So the family resemblance did exist after all.
Scar held back a laugh.
“Of course not.”
“Well, I don’t even know where it is myself. My father probably did.”
“You mean the late Marquis?”
“Yeah, the senile old man. Always bragging like he had divine power or something.”
If only the old fool had told him where the treasure was before dying so suddenly.
Gillian clicked his tongue.
“Well, there was one thing he treated like it was precious. It wasn’t a jeweled ring or a masterwork sword…”
He trailed off.
Scar swallowed, waiting for the answer.
“…It was a spoon.”
