Chapter 19

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: No Mercy 19

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자비는 없습니다

19화

Sierra slowly relaxed her expression, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

"I won't forget what you said to me today. Thank you."

Bellieta, who had been quietly gazing at Sierra, shifted her eyes to Aden.

Bellieta had always considered Aden an unlucky man.

He was the kind of presence that disrupted her perpetually peaceful life and routine.

Whenever Aden appeared without warning, he brought a storm in his wake.

Both before and now.

Bellieta, observing him under the light, turned back to Sierra and flashed a bright smile.

"Enjoy the banquet. See you again."

Bellieta left her final greeting and turned away.

Click-clack, the sound of her heels receded, and the smile slowly faded from her face.

"Observe Sierra and those around her more closely and report back, Piolett. Don't miss a single detail, from one to ten."

"Understood."

Piolett closed her eyes and replied quietly.

Bellieta stepped from the darkness into the bright light, her relaxed face once more adorned with a smile.

The darkness fell away from her as if it had never been there.

Bellieta melted into the light.

In stark contrast to Bellieta blending into the light, the smile vanished from Sierra's face as she remained in the shadows.

Sierra gazed coldly at Bellieta, then quietly lifted her glass to her lips.

"I won't forget what you said today. So don't ask me later why I did it."

The red wine disappeared from Sierra's lips.

"Because it's all something you brought on yourself."

"...".

A flicker of light danced in Aden's eyes as he watched Sierra's retreating back.

Tap-tap. Fingers drummed rhythmically up and down.

The owner of those fingers stared fixedly at Sierra's departing back, chin propped on his hand.

With each movement of the man, his fine silver hair, thin as silk thread, swayed gently.

His deep brown eyes, which had followed Sierra until she vanished from sight, rolled lazily downward.

He uncrossed his legs, recrossed them the other way, and leaned back languidly. The motion was long and leisurely.

Unlike Aden's thick, sturdy build, he lacked that heaviness, but his long legs and arms conveyed a refreshingly solid impression without shortcoming.

"You look dissatisfied."

Once Aden had completely disappeared from view in pursuit of Sierra, he pouted his lips and grumbled.

"This is something. I come after being invited, only to be treated as common as reeds in a reed field."

"You're exaggerating. Weren't you just moments ago pretending to be overwhelmed by the throng pressing in? They all flocked because they wanted to exchange even a word with the eldest son of the Pallieva Duke family. Wasn't that enough?"

"That attention evaporated in an instant, and they swarmed elsewhere. It's downright jealousy-inducing."

"And yet you watched quite intently, didn't you?"

"When did I do that?"

Riman Grayham Count bestowed a sly smile upon the grumbling Kestian before rising from his seat, leaning on his cane.

To assist the elderly count with his labored movements, Kestian himself stood and supported him.

"Heh heh, always imposing on the young master."

"I've heard that over a hundred times already. Just lean on me."

Though his brows furrowed deeply as if full of complaints, his supporting touch was meticulous.

Once Riman had straightened his back with Kestian's aid, Kestian stepped back a pace.

"Are you leaving?"

"It's not a good look for an old man like me to linger too long at a banquet. I'd like to head back and rest."

"I'll see you out."

"No need. Enjoy the banquet a bit longer, young master. Old folks like me suit the hearthside better."

Riman offered a gentle smile on his weary face.

The count, bidding farewell in a drowsy voice, suddenly turned back as something occurred to him.

"Come to think of it, the Brilloxen Lady has grown up quite a bit. Five years ago, she was just a young lady, but now she's quite mature."

"Do you know her?"

"You'd know too, young master. She attended as proxy a few times at the regular armaments conferences."

"Really?"

Riman let out a small sigh at Kestian's bemused expression, as if it were news to him.

Knowing Kestian's temperament—not a speck of interest until something touched his own sphere—Riman merely shook his head.

"I'm meeting her briefly this evening. Care to join, if it's alright?"

Kestian sat back down, face etched with disinterest.

Lifting the glass he had set aside, he replied curtly.

"Why would I trail after godfather to go there? No thanks. I'll have a bit more to drink here. Rest well."

"First time meeting, Brilloxen Lady. Call me Kestian."

Kestian was the first to greet Sierra, who sat across from Riman at the mini-bar in the marquis lounge, lightly sipping drinks and chatting.

Riman gazed at Kestian—who had chased after them despite insisting he wouldn't join—with a smile creasing his wrinkled lips.

The smile was faint, obscured by his beard, but the facial hair lifted along with the corners of his mouth.

Kestian deliberately averted his eyes from Riman's subtly probing gaze.

Sierra felt disconcerted. She had come to share a cup of tea with Riman Grayham, her father's mentor, only for the eldest son of the Pallieva Duke family—who oversaw the armaments industry, no mere noble—to appear.

An uninvited guest was still a guest, but Kestian's status made it all the more so.

'...Why is the future duke here?'

Kestian claimed it was their first meeting, but Sierra knew him by face and had even witnessed him ascend to the dukedom.

Unlike the Bozbon Duke family, the young head of the Pallieva house—under imperial scrutiny as kin by marriage—was solid as the earth and heavy as a boulder.

He was a cautious man who rarely showed himself in society or abroad.

So why was he here?

"Godfather wanted to introduce me to someone promising, so I tagged along. Forgive the intrusion."

"Heh heh, young master. Didn't you refuse when I suggested we go together?"

"Me? When?"

"Oh dear. My stamina and eyesight may have waned with age, but my ears are still sharp. Are you testing this old man's memory?"

Their banter flowed lightly and cheerfully, the half-century age gap all but forgotten.

Sierra sensed the gulf between the Kestian in her memories and the one before her now, and hurriedly spoke up.

"Standing to chat isn't bad, but why not sit? There's a chair right next to the count."

At Sierra's calm suggestion, which smoothly redirected the mood, Kestian—who had been in the thick of their verbal sparring—collected himself and looked embarrassed.

Kestian cleared his throat, took a seat, and ordered a martini from the staff.

As the briefly scattered atmosphere settled, Sierra gazed steadily at Kestian. She caressed her chilled glass, beaded with condensation, and tilted her head at a jaunty angle.

"But... are we really strangers? I feel like I've seen you a few times before..."

Kestian’s face fell into an "oh no" expression at her words.

Riman had mentioned they'd met a few times at conferences, but he'd forgotten.

Riman looked on the flustered Kestian with pitying eyes.

Kestian’s mouth hung slightly open as his eyes darted about, before he slowly continued.

"Of couuurse, we've crossed paths before, but this is our first time chatting privately like this, so I greeted you. You saw me too. That..."

His deeply furrowed brow and fidgeting hands wandered, failing to seize the right word.

Unable to bear it, Riman sighed and came to his aid.

"Armaments conference."

"Armaments conference! We met a few times at the armaments conferences hosted by Pallieva. Ring any bells?"

Thanks to Riman's bailout, Kestian narrowly escaped and instead asked brazenly if she remembered.

Sierra eyed Kestian as if he were some oddity, then nodded reluctantly.

"But what brings you here so suddenly? Ah, if it's about next month's conference, I plan to attend. My parents are away on business right now."

"...Pardon?"

"I was just discussing next month's conference with Grayham Count. He mentioned the Pallieva heir had many concerns about it. Don't worry too much. Brilloxen backs Pallieva's stance."

Kestian turned to Riman, too baffled to respond.

Riman lifted his glass, a smile playing on his wrinkled lips.

"You seemed worried, so I asked for her help. Miss Sierra studied and honed her skills under the Brilloxen Count and his wife. Brilloxen's support carries great weight, so I made a separate request."

"You... did? We always benefit greatly from godfather's efforts."

Kestian forced his lips upward into a bright smile.

"I see. So that's the conversation you were having with godfather. Hmm..."

Sierra tilted her head quizzically at Kestian, who trailed off while swirling his glass.

Then, spotting a familiar face behind him, she rose from her seat.

"It was a pleasure talking, Grayham Count. Pallieva heir, delightful to chat privately. Later, instead of drinks, a proper meal together might be nice."

"Leaving?"

"A bit of business."

Sierra flashed a bright smile, offered a light bow, and strode away.

Kestian stared at her receding back and let out a sigh.

He'd come all this way with piqued interest, only to fail at even a decent conversation.

Tasting bitterness on his tongue, Kestian drained his glass.

"Another round?"

"...No. Let's head back."

Riman watched Kestian's dejected figure rise listlessly and trudge away, a soft, amused smile on his face.