Chapter 14

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: There is No Mercy 14

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“Rita.”

“Y-Yes?!”

“Not planning to answer?”

“I’m sorry……!”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

The maid’s face turned ashen as she darted her eyes around.

She clutched the front of her dress with her small hands and slowly parted her lips in a trembling, anxious voice.

“I-I thought that between friends, I could at least answer that much.”

“Friends, huh……”

I propped my chin on my hand and lifted my teacup.

Yeah, between friends, that much should be answerable.

I tilted the black tea to my lips, took a sip, and said curtly.

“Do Bellieta and I look like friends to you?”

“P-Pardon? Oh, yes. Of course. If you asked anyone else, they’d probably say the same.”

Sierra and Bellieta were inseparable best friends.

Friends who wore similar clothes and jewelry, shared the same hobbies.

Friends who did everything together.

And the friend who stole my friend’s man.

Could you even call that friendship?

I raised my narrowed eyes and stared at the maid.

She still looked so pitiful, her eyes rolling about in anxiety.

Not a single word from the maid had been wrong.

In the eyes of the public, Bellieta and I were longtime friends.

Though no one knew the true nature of our relationship, you could call it friendship if you stretched it.

Even toxic bonds were bonds, after all.

“Interesting……”

“I’m sorry, miss.”

“No. No need to apologize. I’m the one who asked, so don’t worry about it.”

The maid’s eyes rolled around again.

I flashed her a gentle smile—she was still steeped in worry—then set down my cup.

“It helped. So, thank you.”

“P-Pardon? Oh…… yes.”

Thanks to her, I now had a baseline for how to treat Bellieta.

Even a lowly maid saw Bellieta and me as friends.

I could set some minimal standards for our relationship moving forward.

And I felt the need to clean up my inner circle.

Things I hadn’t noticed before were now plain as day with time.

For instance, the maids tending to me were actually Bellieta’s eyes, ears, and mouth.

That was why I’d brought Rita along for my talk with Bellieta.

She was Brilloxen-employed and assigned to me, but she’d been Bellieta’s spy for ages.

That’s how she dared speak so boldly about my attitude.

I quietly drained my cup as I pondered the things I’d need to deal with soon.

Wagons brimmed with mountains of grain and other daily necessities.

People hustled about, shifting the ten wagons packed to bursting.

The castle and territory, lately shrouded in gloom and stagnation, now thrummed with fresh energy.

After five years cut off from supplies, those who’d gone without proper treatment and those scraping by on meager rations now smiled at the sight of the wagons.

As goods were carted to the warehouses, grain was sold to the commoners on one side at rock-bottom prices.

The pittance collected went right back to them for road repairs and water purification.

Plus, the sheer volume of grain per coin left no room for complaints.

The castle buzzed with lively chatter.

Aden, gazing down at them, shifted his eyes to the man standing at the desk.

The handsome brown-haired man gave a light smile.

“The castle’s overflowing with vitality. Can’t remember the last time. All thanks to the Brilloxen Lady’s supplies.”

“Baran Nemir Viscount.”

Aden called him curtly and sank into his chair, tilting his neck slightly.

“How’s the task?”

“The investigation’s done. Report by tomorrow.”

“Report now.”

Aden spat the words as if there was nothing more to hear, and Baran smiled knowingly before speaking.

“On the matter Your Excellency mentioned—the Brilloxen Lady and her family—nothing unexpected. No ties to the shadows worth noting.”

“And.”

“Quite the opposite, really. Spotless. No ambitions in court politics, content in the provinces, but their wealth is immense—a family many envy. Especially those magic stones, mineable only in the Gray Mountains. Rare minerals every mage craves. The Magic Association unofficially shields the Brilloxen family for it. Even the imperial family stays mum.”

Magic stones. Mages. The imperial family.

Aden propped his chin, rolling his gaze sideways.

He recalled the face that had boldly spoken up to him.

Riplton folk didn’t trust outsiders’ goodwill.

For centuries, they’d spurned every helping hand offered.

So Riplton carved its independent survival.

A few had extended aid over the years.

But their motives were always foul and rotten.

Filthy advances, time and again.

Aden trusted no outsiders.

“And…… I looked into the Brilloxen Lady and the Bozbon Duke’s Daughter’s relationship, as ordered.”

Meeting Aden’s vertically slit golden eyes, Baran spoke slowly.

“To cure the Bozbon Duke’s Daughter of her shy, withdrawn nature since childhood, the Bozbon Duke arranged a same-age friend. The Brilloxen Lady. They grew close young; she blossomed, her personality shifted. The Duke was pleased……”

His voice trailed off, and Aden tilted his head.

Baran smacked his lips and continued.

“They ended up too alike.”

“Who?”

“The Bozbon Duke’s Daughter with the Brilloxen Lady.”

Alike?

“At every banquet, same dress designs, jewelry, even shoes—she copied it all, they say. But somehow the rumor twisted: the Brilloxen Lady’s the copycat. It’s tarnishing her reputation.”

“Didn’t look like she was copying anyone.”

“My findings match that. An independent, proactive Brilloxen Lady copying her friend? Unlikely. The other way around, maybe.”

Aden brushed back his hair, recalling Sierra’s flicker of displeasure at the notion of an inferiority complex.

Baran eyed him—more to report?—but Aden shut his eyes, shook his head, and waved him off.

Baran bowed deeply, turned to leave.

As he reached the door, he paused, glanced back, and said briefly.

“But there’s a strange new rumor circulating.”

“What rumor.”

“About Your Excellency the Archduke.”

“Any rumor about me ever good?”

To his indifferent tone, Baran gave an awkward smile.

“Never good, sure, but not this bizarre.”

“Out with it.”

Gruff as ever.

Baran hesitated, gauging him, then spoke cautiously.

“Rumor has it Your Excellency’s entering a political marriage with the Bozbon family.”

“……What?”

An incredulous expression and voice came back.

Maybe it was the absurd rumor from morning.

Even the perfectly fine apple stew turned to mush in my mouth, sour as if spoiled.

The maid who’d spoken up startled at my expression and bowed hastily.

Sweeping back her fallen hair, she stammered in confusion.

“Who’s marrying whom?”

“The Bozbon Duke’s Daughter and Aden Riplton Ghost Archduke Your Excellency. Rumor is they’re tying the knot in a political marriage soon.”

I was flustered.

The rumor itself was eerily spot-on.

Considering whatever deal Bellieta and Aden had brewing, it wasn’t off-base.

My first question hit hard.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Uncle Jack told me.”

The uncle who loved drunken rambling?

Father’s old friend, someone who’d shown me kindness when I was little.

Word was he’d wandered as a mercenary, but now he lounged at the mansion, lost in booze.

He heard everything, knew everyone—sharp on gossip, quick on the uptake.

But how the hell did he know about Bellieta and Aden?

Had Bellieta caught wind of my dealings with Aden?

I bit my lip, sorted my thoughts, then looked up.

“Where’s Uncle Jack?”

“Saw him head to the stables earlier.”

“Fetch him.”

I watched the maid scramble out of the dining hall, brows furrowed.

Minutes later, a bushy-bearded middle-aged man—Jack—strode in.

“Sit. Called you ’cause I’ve got questions. Everyone else, clear out.”

As servants and knights filed out, Jack fixed me with a glare.

“Heard the talk. Bozbon and Riplton families.”

“And?”

To his surly tone, I shot back curtly.

“Who’d you get that from?”

“Where else? Overheard on the street or in a tavern. Who remembers? You count every bread from two days back?”

Not liking my vibe, huh.

I tapped the table with a finger and leaned forward.

“Wanna get booted?”

“……What?”

“You’re Dad’s guest, not mine. He never said pamper you or treat you special. Get rude with me, and I’ll toss you from this mansion anytime.”

“You threatening me……!”

“Yep. Straight-up threat, so play nice and answer. One more peep, and you’re gone.”

I stopped tapping and wrinkled my nose.

“Answer.”

Jack clamped his mouth shut and glared.

Silence stretched, then with a sigh, he waved in defeat.