Chapter 25

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 25

Chapter Title: His Sister

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“D-Dear! Calm down!”

Startled by the unexpected situation, the viscountess hurriedly tried to restrain him.

“No matter how angry you are, you can’t do this! You have to attend a party tomorrow, too!”

“A party? When rumors are flying that she’s been touched by that wastrel, what does a party even mean?”

Even amid her father’s bellowing roars that he couldn’t hold back, Erna stared blankly at the newspaper on the floor. Her vision was too blurry to read the full article, but she could grasp the gist.

Erna couldn’t understand how such malicious, lowbrow lies could make it into print so boldly. Her father, who had laid hands on her without even giving her a proper chance to explain, was no different.

Erna lifted her eyes, filled with that doubt, to gaze at her father standing before her. It hurt terribly, was utterly humiliating, but no tears fell. More precisely, she couldn’t quite recall how to cry.

“You have no sense of your place and ruin everything with your greed! With your value at its peak, to have such a scandal! You’re about to ruin all the good marriage prospects—what do you plan to do about it?”

Her father’s incomprehensible words buzzed relentlessly through her dazed mind.

He’s just trying to sell his daughter.

Erna wasn’t unaware of the whispers people murmured behind her back. She simply hadn’t believed them. Surely he couldn’t be that heartless. He shouldn’t be.

She wanted to believe it was the bare minimum of paternal affection.

All parents wished to see their marriageable children wed, so her father must be the same. Even if it stemmed from that paltry selfishness of wanting to wash away the sin of abandoning his wife and child all those years ago, she could understand it. After all, he hadn’t turned away when his daughter, cornered, reached out to him. He had no intention of marrying her off, but she wanted to cherish the time he’d at least played the father for once.

How foolish. How pathetic.

“……Was the reason you kept me here for a year, in exchange for protecting the Baden estate, really just to sell me off?”

Erna posed the question in a whisper-soft voice. The gaze she fixed on Viscount Hardy was deep and chilling.

“Like people whisper, do you see me as something to sell off at a high price on the marriage market?”

As Viscount Hardy stood there, breathing raggedly with a slightly flustered expression, Erna staggered to her feet.

“Father, you can’t do this to me.”

Her voice trembled from the fear ingrained in her body, but even so, Erna forced strength into each word.

“How can a father treat his daughter like this? No matter how many years you’ve ignored me, I’m still undeniably your daughter. This is too cruel, too wrong.”

“I guess you’ve already forgotten, but you were the one who first proposed this deal.”

Viscount Hardy sneered and stepped closer to Erna.

“Did you really think letting you stay in my house for a year was worth the price of reclaiming the Baden estate? If so, those crotchety old folks must have raised you to be a fool.”

“Don’t insult them. You have no right!”

“No. Far from it. As you said, I’m undeniably your father, so I have every right!”

Viscount Hardy shouted it boldly, without the slightest hesitation.

“Be grateful for your father’s efforts in bringing you here from that backwater, where you were destined to grow old as a spinster, and finding you a good match. Don’t ruin things with your childish greed—do as you’re told and behave. Understand?”

Even with him barking fiercely right in her face, Erna maintained her stubbornly rigid posture in silence. As he watched his daughter tremble in fear yet refuse to back down, Viscount Hardy’s eyes grew ever fiercer.

“If you pull any more stunts, I’ll sell off that countryside house on the spot—got it?”

“You can’t do that. You promised it to me!”

As Erna wavered, Viscount Hardy finally flashed a satisfied smile.

“That’s only if you uphold your end of the contract properly. If you act out on your own, I’ll respond in kind.”

“How can you make such a vile threat?”

“A vile threat? You sound just like Baron Baden, all talk and no substance despite being penniless.”

Viscount Hardy spat the biting mockery before slapping his daughter’s cheek with all his might once more. Even as he looked down at her crumpling limply to the floor, his cold gaze didn’t waver.

“D-Dear! That’s enough now!”

Brenda Hardy, who had been anxiously glancing around, grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled. Viscount Hardy finally relented, kicking the bloodstained newspaper aside as if venting his frustration.

“Think it over carefully and act accordingly. Even a fool like you had better understand this much, Erna.”

Incredibly, it was Erna.

Biern, smoking a cigar on the terrace of the social club, frowned and rose to his feet. Leaning against the railing, he exhaled a long plume of smoke as the unmistakable woman drew a bit closer.

She paused beneath the clock tower, staring down at her feet, then resumed walking. She wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled low, as if she’d forgotten it was the dead of night. Her ever-present, hellhound-like loyal maid was nowhere in sight.

Biern checked the time on his pocket watch from his vest pocket. It was definitely late. No noble lady should be wandering the square alone at this hour.

The Hardy house must have been quite the uproar.

Thinking of the scandal that had become fresh fodder for the gossips, he suddenly grew curious about the woman’s day. Just then, Erna, who had been walking straight ahead, turned her head. The distance and darkness made it hard to see her face clearly, but Biern knew their eyes had met.

Erna froze for a moment, then abruptly bowed her head deeply. It was a stark contrast to that evening when she’d smiled so readily while meeting his gaze.

Like an animal caught in a snare, she circled in place before bolting in the opposite direction from where he was. It was absurd, but Biern just chuckled it off. He’d seen the like many times before, so it was nothing new. With the scandal breaking, it made sense she’d hide away. Even a shrewd social climber like her, having spent her formative years in some rural backwater, wouldn’t be used to this.

Biern left the terrace with the cigar still in his mouth. The club was at its peak bustle, but the group hanging around House Heinz’s second son was nowhere to be seen. He felt like giving that fool another pat on the head for his overreaching antics—ideally, with a gag to match.

“Come on, Biern! I was just about to go looking for you.”

Peter’s voice rang out amid the raucous noise as he opened the door to the card room. A new game was just starting.

Biern returned to his seat and flicked the ash from his long cigar. Even the wastrels whiling away the time with petty jabs at each other hesitated to bother him tonight. It was an unspoken rule among them.

Biern wet his lips with brandy and checked his cards with an inscrutable expression.

Over his poor hand floated the image of Erna fleeing wildly. She hadn’t been heading toward the Hardy estate, he recalled.

Pavel didn’t manage to slip away from the Leman household until deep into the night.

He politely declined the director of the art academy’s offer to drive him home and strolled leisurely down the street, as if enjoying a walk. The refreshing breeze made it a fine night for it. Nothing better to sort out his tangled thoughts.

Count Leman’s second unmarried daughter was a renowned art enthusiast. Her eye wasn’t particularly refined, but her generous spending made her a major patron in the art world. She mostly bought pieces on others’ recommendations, but lately, she’d been showering Pavel with attention. Thanks to his award at the Royal Academy’s art exhibition, which had caused a stir.

He’d been invited by a wealthy patron, dined with her, and sold a painting for a good price. It should have been a joyful day in every way. He couldn’t claim he felt none of that satisfaction.

But he’d known from the start why it still left him with this bitter aftertaste. Erna. Lately, that name had been sorely troubling his heart.

Every time he saw the white-haired Count Leman at the dinner table, she came to mind. Pavel couldn’t fathom how Erna could be considered a bride for that old man. He couldn’t just stand by, but he had no clever solution either—it was maddening.

I should have paid her more attention from the start.

Even knowing it was pointless, he found himself gripped by belated regret time and again. Especially thinking of Erna dreaming innocently of enduring the year and returning to Burford.

Pavel loosened his tie, which felt like a suffocating noose, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He paused to gaze up at the night sky.

I need to talk to Erna.

About Viscount Hardy’s intentions in summoning his daughter, and what fate awaited if she let her guard down. The money from the painting sale would arrive in a few days, giving him at least some means to help her.

The hottest topic at tonight’s Leman dinner had been the scandal swirling around the grand duke and Erna. The nobles there unanimously pitied Princess Gladys and condemned Erna. Count Leman, with his sullen expression and frequent dry coughs, made clear his irritation at his chosen bride being bandied about like this. His daughters seized the chance to badmouth Erna, hoping to sway their father—apparently, a stepmother their age was too much to stomach.

I can’t leave Erna like this.

Pavel solidified that resolve at the Leman dinner. The old count, the social wastrels, even that poisonous mushroom of a prince. Just thinking of those pathetic men toying with her made his rage boil.

Then maybe he should help her leave that house. Send her back to Burford—would her life return to its peaceful normalcy? Would Viscount Hardy, already mad with fury, let her go so easily?

As the questions chained endlessly, weariness deepened. That’s when Pavel arrived home. On the short steps leading to the entrance sat a woman, curled up small. Her姿势 was too striking to ignore.

“Are you all right?”

Pavel approached and asked politely. But that composure vanished the instant she lifted her head.

“……Erna!”

Pavel’s shocked cry echoed through the night street. The woman staring back at him with a face full of wounds was unmistakably Erna—his sister, Erna.