Chapter 33

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 33

Chapter Title: Facing Viscount Arlen

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Ilrin thought of Viscount Arlen, who would now be sitting across from Aden, deep in discussion about the deal.

He had always been overbearing toward her, desperate to seal her lips shut.

Even after her brother's incident, she had no intention of ever speaking of her precognitive dreams aloud. Yet it was Viscount Arlen who constantly fretted, his eyes fixed on her mouth.

Because of him, she hadn't even been allowed to debut in society and had been forced to remain cooped up in the house.

Even earning the shameful moniker of the "Recluse Lady."

Her father apparently believed that was preferable to letting her—someone who might blab the family's secrets—parade around in society and tarnish House Arlen's honor.

Ilrin abruptly set off walking.

Milo immediately fell into step behind her.

"Where shall I escort you?"

"I want to see Den."

Since they were outside, she used his alias and pet name.

As she uttered his name, she felt her heart settle into a gentle warmth.

"I'll escort you."

Milo didn't utter a single word of protest.

He was acting on Aden's orders, but that aside, he had no doubts about the shrewd Madam's decisions.

Above all, she was the one who, despite having no prior ties to the Esid Merchant Group, had swiftly revealed her leverage and seized the advantage.

'Ah.'

Only then did Milo finally solve the puzzle of how she had uncovered the connection between the Esid Merchant Group and House Biplten.

As she had said, she must have seen the merchant group's wagons heading to Biplten in a precognitive dream.

'To move so boldly with just that scrap of information.'

He had sensed it before, but the lady of the house who had entered Crimson Delroz was clearly no ordinary woman.

Milo bowed his head even lower as he guided her along.

"I assume you're already well aware,"

Viscount Arlen sat back arrogantly in his chair, back straight.

But his voice betrayed a frantic urgency at odds with his posture.

"The hotter the region, the better the quality of the carrots."

The viscount proffered a few sheets of paper.

Aden's gaze skimmed over them.

His eyes, honed from years of poring over documents, instantly grasped the key points.

"The unusually hot weather started more than twenty years ago but less than thirty."

He neatly summarized the crux in a measured tone.

"Exactly. Carrots don't grow well in the central regions, do they? But our territory is the only place near the capital where they thrive. And you won't find any as small and exquisite as ours!"

The viscount spread his hand to demonstrate.

Aden glanced at the viscount's plump, ink-free hand—barely accustomed to holding even a pen—before nodding.

That was when it happened.

The door creaked open.

Both men's eyes turned toward it.

The newcomer was a woman in a black veil.

Ornate red and gold hairpins swayed as she moved.

Her wrist, hidden beneath thick sleeves, briefly peeked out as she shut the door.

It was flawlessly white and soft.

As she turned her head, the veil shifted slightly, revealing her neckline.

The startled woman quickly clutched the veil.

As if she didn't want it lifting any further.

"You've arrived."

Aden, who knew her identity, rose from his seat.

The woman's gaze turned toward him.

"Ah... And who might this be?"

Viscount Arlen looked back and forth between them.

Anyone could see that this woman outranked the man.

He belatedly recalled how Aden had introduced himself.

'I'm the acting manager for Esid's northern distribution.'

The actual manager was too busy to attend, or so he had said.

How dare mere merchants summon a noble and send a proxy—Aden's discourtesy had irked him, and he remembered it well.

Merchants were uncouth rabble who didn't know noble etiquette from the start. He had been prepared to overlook it with magnanimous tolerance, figuring they couldn't learn it all overnight.

Yet here she was in person, despite claims of busyness?

'Esid Merchant Group has a deep interest in this deal.'

With the smooth-talking man before him saying as much, and now this woman showing up, it was clear they truly valued this transaction.

Viscount Arlen's mood improved a bit.

"She manages our merchant group's northern distribution."

Aden introduced her with the deference due a superior.

Realizing her position, Viscount Arlen inclined his head ever so slightly.

Not bowing, merely observing noble courtesy.

So he thought.

"I hope this deal comes to a fruitful close."

Aden swallowed a laugh at the viscount's demeanor.

It was the pride of a noble desperately clinging to his dignity.

But everyone in the room knew the truth.

The woman in the black veil held all the authority here.

They knew exactly who the viscount was wagging his tail for, pretending otherwise.

Ilrin took a deep breath in front of the room where Aden and the viscount sat.

She was no longer Ilrin de Arlen.

Even if she removed this black veil and entered, she was no longer the maiden of House Arlen.

There was no reason to fear Viscount Arlen anymore.

Father or not, he couldn't do anything to her now.

She reached out and grasped the door handle.

Before turning it, she heard footsteps approaching from the end of the corridor.

A glance before entering revealed a knight standing there.

'Ah.'

It was that knight.

The insolent one who had come snooping about merchant groups distributing goods to the north.

The knight's gaze swept over her with puzzlement.

It wasn't the look of recognition.

Ilrin flinched involuntarily.

Her expression was completely hidden beneath the black veil.

She glided smoothly into the room.

"You've arrived."

The first thing she saw upon entering was Aden.

And seated before him was the viscount.

He had loomed so large in her world back at the estate.

Even for a minor house, until she came to Biplten, Viscount Arlen had controlled her entire existence.

When he said go, she went. When he said stay and keep silent, she endured the vicious rumors and remained shut away in the mansion.

'Was he always like this?'

Yet before Aden, he seemed pathetically small.

Aden rose upon seeing Ilrin.

"She manages our merchant group's northern distribution."

Aden introduced her as his superior.

Ilrin peered at the viscount from behind her veil.

Her heart thudded uncomfortably.

The old feelings from facing him at the estate resurfaced.

"Oh..."

She could see the viscount's mouth fall open in realization.

He exhaled, then slowly—agonizingly so—placed a hand on his chest in gentlemanly greeting.

"I hope this deal comes to a fruitful close."

His voice snapped Ilrin out of her daze.

This was a side of him she had never seen.

He was still treating them like lowly merchants to the end, but Ilrin could see it plainly.

The desperate one in this room was him.

'Right, that's how it is.'

Besides, whether this deal succeeded was in her hands.

Ilrin gave a small nod and brushed past him.

She took a seat at the head of the table, somewhat removed from the two men.

Careful not to let her veil slip.

The viscount showed no inkling that she could be his daughter.

"I believe my terms aren't bad from Esid's perspective either. Above all, with low transport costs, our prices beat the south's from the start, don't they?"

It was a fair point.

Aden slowly nodded in agreement, and the viscount grinned ear to ear.

"They say this winter's been especially brutal. Even up north, carrot demand has risen, I've heard."

This was brutal?

Aden couldn't imagine how mild Biplten's winters usually were by comparison.

But a mere nod of concurrence was enough for the viscount.

"Hmm..."

Yet when the desired reaction didn't come easily, the viscount stroked his chin as if pondering.

Both Ilrin and Aden saw through the contrived gesture.

It was like something rehearsed from the start.

"I'd love to host you for dinner at my estate and discuss further. What do you say?"

Winter days were short; the sun was already dipping low.

Long crimson rays filled the room.

Aden turned to Ilrin.

"Would it be alright to go?"

He meant he wouldn't if she felt uncomfortable.

Their eyes met through her black veil.

She hesitated briefly, recalling the dream where he was struck by an arrow.

But in her precognitive dreams, they hadn't been ambushed until returning to the Winter Lands.

And until then, Aden had been safe.

It would be fine.

Ilrin gave a short nod.

"We'll be back quickly."

Reading her brief hesitation, Aden replied.

His reassuring, warm smile was for her eyes only.

Viscount Arlen's invitation to his estate had an obvious intent.

He was emphasizing how close it was, even by carriage.

Meaning lower distribution costs.

True enough, it was quite close.

"We'll reach Arlen soon."

Aden responded to Viscount Arlen's words with a perfunctory smile.

Meanwhile, his thoughts drifted to someone else.

According to Milo's report, Ilrin had come this way alone.

There had been an escorting knight, but he hadn't properly attended her.

No matter how close, it was still too far for her to travel alone.

Especially with someone unreliable posing as a knight.

Aden recalled Ilrin's slender wrists and her faint, fragile breaths that seemed ready to extinguish at any moment.

The Delroz maids had improved her condition greatly since attending her, but when they first met, she had seemed like a delicate shard of ice that might shatter at a touch.

"..."

And the man responsible for making her that way was right in front of him.

A chill settled over his mind.

"Ah, see it there?"

Viscount Arlen pointed out the window with glee.

His noble pride—desperately trying to condescend to a mere merchant—bordered on pitiful.

Aden turned to peer outside.

The viscount was pointing at a tree with leaves still tinged in autumn colors.

Aden's eyes fixed on its broad foliage.

"In hot regions, you get trees with broad leaves like that. That's the first sign."

Before Aden could question what "first sign" meant, he startled.

"Here we are!"

No sooner had the carriage passed the tree than Viscount Arlen flung his arms wide in welcome.

Uncharacteristically, Aden's eyes widened slightly as he stared outside.

"The scenery changed just now, didn't it?"

"...Indeed it did."

Aden finally spoke.

He glanced at Viscount Arlen after looking out the window.

"Could you turn the carriage back toward that tree for a moment?"

There was no need for polite preambles like "if it's not too much trouble, I'd like a closer look."

The viscount's response was lightning-quick.

"Of course!"

He bellowed for the coachman and had the horses turn around.

"Want to take a closer look?"

The viscount's voice brimmed with excitement.

Aden alighted and approached the tree.

Possessing the authority to control weather himself, he was acutely sensitive to temperature shifts.

And so he felt it clearly.

The moment they passed this tree, the air had noticeably warmed.