Chapter 34

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Engaged to the Blind Duke
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Gerald woke from a dream that took him back to his childhood for the first time in ages.

“Hiiiing.”

The horses harnessed to the carriage let out long whinnies before foaming at the mouth and collapsing one by one.

They had covered a ten-day journey overnight, arriving in just six days.

The Mandelsong that Temporary had made was undoubtedly effective.

With the Mandelsong applied, the stinging pain in his eyes vanished, allowing him to even catch some sleep now and then.

“We’ve arrived.”

Olive’s weary voice came from outside the carriage.

Focusing a bit more on the sounds around him, Gerald could hear whispers from the House of Adria.

“The Duke’s almost here. Damn it. What’s a blind guy like him coming all the way out here for?”

“Honey, someone might hear you.”

“Who’s gonna hear? Damn it. My brother and sister-in-law, that…”

“Shh. Keep your voice down.”

“Who’s gonna hear us talking in our room?”

Gerald tossed the cloth band covering his eyes onto the carriage floor and stepped out, leaning on his cane.

With his eyes closed and relying on the cane, he looked every bit the blind man.

“This way.”

Gerald followed the sound of Olive’s voice and footsteps.

The soldiers guarding the count’s estate bowed their heads hastily with tense expressions and opened the front gate.

Soon, Gerald and Olive entered the mansion.

Morro, the butler of House Adria, came rushing out in a fluster and bowed at the waist.

“Y-Your Grace the Duke. Welcome.”

Gerald stood there silently with an impassive expression.

Olive ignored the butler’s greeting as well, surveying the surroundings before stepping forward and asking sternly,

“We sent a letter saying we’d arrive a day ago. Where are the count’s young ladies and heirs?”

Morro dabbed at his sweat repeatedly with a handkerchief, mumbling,

“W-Well…”

Olive pressed him with a sharp gaze.

“Why can’t you answer quickly?”

“Well, we didn’t receive the letter…”

“Please come in, Your Grace the Duke. It must have been a difficult journey with your eyes troubling you. You didn’t need to go to such trouble.”

Olive shifted his gaze toward the source of the voice.

A handsome man with blond hair and clear blue eyes was descending the stairs slowly.

It was Junior Baron Killon.

A woman in a black dress adorned with flashy jewels, unbecoming of mourning attire, followed quietly behind him.

“We would have prepared a proper welcome if you’d let us know in advance. My apologies.”

“We definitely sent the letter a day ago, but it seems no one received it.”

Olive sneered with his usual courteous smile.

“Butler, did you receive the letter? If so, why didn’t you report it to me?”

Killon scolded Morro, who was shrinking back with hunched shoulders.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t receive it either.”

Morro hurriedly made excuses, sweat pouring from him like a flood.

***

“Oh dear, oh dear. It seems it wasn’t received.”

“Honey. You should at least introduce me.”

The woman standing beside Killon tugged lightly at his sleeve.

“Ah, this is my fiancée.”

“Hello. It’s an honor to meet Your Grace the Duke. I’m Zelmia Rose.”

Zelmia flashed a sensual smile at the duke.

Olive stared at her in disbelief but ignored her completely and asked Killon again,

“Where are the count’s young ladies and heirs?”

At Olive’s question, Killon’s expression stiffened slightly before he quickly plastered on a bright smile.

“The children are so overcome with grief that they have no mind to come out.”

“Even so, they should at least greet His Grace the Duke.”

“You’re right. I’ll give them a good scolding. Kids these days don’t listen to words alone. Hahaha.”

That was when it happened.

Thud. The cane struck the lobby floor, and the marble cracked with a sharp craaack.

“Eek.”

Morro, who had been watching nervously from behind, collapsed as his legs gave out.

Killon and Zelmia also stared at the duke with faces drained of color.

The duke, eyes still closed, curled his red lips into a cold sneer.

“Noisy. Like mayflies.”

“W-What discourtesy is this? We’re in mourning!”

Killon raised his voice as if to shake off his fear, but he couldn’t hide the trembling in his eyes.

“To the room.”

Dismissing Killon as if he were a barking dog, the duke commanded Olive.

“Yes.”

Morro forced himself to stand on shaking legs.

“I-I’ll show you the way.”

Soon, the two disappeared following Morro.

Zelmia glanced down at the cracked floor, then quickly composed a sorrowful expression and leaned into Killon’s chest.

“Oh my. His Grace the Duke is too much. To treat you like this just because you’re only a junior baron, honey.”

Killon glared at the empty hallway where the two had vanished as if they were his mortal enemies, grinding his teeth.

He roughly swept back his blond hair and spat out his anger.

“I’ll see if he acts the same once I become count.”

“Once you become count, honey, how could His Grace the Duke ignore you then?”

Killon’s anger softened at Zelmia’s sweet comfort, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Zelmia, I’ll make you a countess soon. Just wait one day, one day.”

“Yes. I’m waiting, honey. You’re busy, aren’t you? Hurry and go.”

Zelmia slipped naturally from his arms, pushing lightly at his chest, and whispered in a seductive voice.

“Right. I’m busy. Damn it, I didn’t expect the duke to show up before we find that little brat. See you later.”

“Yes, honey.”

As Killon stormed up the stairs, Zelmia scoffed inwardly.

A mere puppet with far too much greed. It made him easy to manipulate, though.

Once Killon was gone and Zelmia was alone in the lobby, she walked lightly over to the spot where the duke had struck the floor.

“I didn’t think the duke would really come. He must have cared for his sister more than I thought. Hohoho.”

Zelmia hummed a tune. Her crimson eyes gleamed with interest, fixed on the cracked floor.

Meanwhile, Killon reached the third floor and pulled a key from his pocket.

If he kept the nieces out of sight now that the duke was here, it would raise suspicions.

“Rotten Vines.”

He was sick of anything connected to the Vines bloodline.

His meddlesome sister-in-law had ruined his plans at every turn, and even in her dying moments, she’d hidden away the youngest, Perido.

***

If his brother and the youngest nephew had died together, the countship that was rightfully his would have naturally returned to him.

If only his frail brother had died young.

If only his sister-in-law, who kept bearing daughters, had given birth to a son.

If only his brother hadn’t tossed him that knight-despised junior baron title.

He wouldn’t have had to eliminate his brother and sister-in-law himself.

Killon glared into the void with fury-filled eyes.

It was all their fault.

Killon inserted the key into the sturdy lock and turned it.

As he flung the door open, the three sisters jumped to their feet from their seats.

He eyed his nieces gathered in the room with a displeased expression, one by one.

Shiny black hair. Deep green eyes like dense foliage. The eldest, Dia, with her pink lips, looked up at him with impassive eyes.

Beside her was hair like melted gold, thick blond locks. Green eyes with upturned corners like a cat’s, giving her an air of arrogance—the second, Garnet, glared at him with venomous eyes.

In contrast, with her soft, light blond hair evoking sweetness. Pale green eyes and a small frame, the third, Rubiana, hid anxiously behind Garnet.

Having inherited only the beautiful traits of their stunning parents, the sisters were each dazzlingly lovely.

Garnet and Rubiana were 15 and 9 years old, still young, but he wanted to ship them off to some rich nobles as soon as possible.