Chapter 23

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: There is No Mercy 23

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자비는 없습니다

23화

The door, locked as securely as a treasure vault behind four layers, opened easily with a soft click.

Baran Nemir's sullen, crumpled expression transformed into one of pure delight in an instant.

"Your Excellency..."

"You don't seem to tire even after an hour. Just how long did you plan to keep knocking?"

"I'm sorry. But we've been sending people repeatedly, and this time you even came in person. I relayed your words, but they wouldn't budge an inch... Since they ignored even your command, we had no proper excuse or way to send them off."

Irritation clung thickly to his voice and gaze.

Yet Baran calmly delivered his message despite Aden's tone.

Aden stared silently at his stubborn adjutant before letting out a sigh and running a hand through his hair.

His disheveled locks and furrowed brow vividly revealed his inner turmoil.

"Absurd. If I don't want to meet unwelcome guests in my own castle, why is there no way around it?"

"There are too many eyes watching. They're not just any pushy intruders; it's a formally approved audience."

"I never approved an audience with that woman. I approved one for the negotiation team that finally resolved the long-standing Brouwd region dispute."

"And it was the Bozbon Duke Family that assembled that negotiation team."

"The Bozbon Family was involved in that region, so it was their duty to handle it. Besides, they can't just ignore my claim of having circumstances because I approved the audience."

"You're not wrong, but with the rumors amplified by that banquet incident, interest is excessively high. If we leave it be, even worse stories will spread."

Aden gazed steadily at Baran, who countered without flinching, then closed his eyes.

Even for Aden, who rarely betrayed emotion, the mounting irritation was impossible to contain.

"You have to resolve it, even if you don't want to see her. A tangled knot will snag other threads. Whether you cut it or untie it, you know running away isn't the answer."

Aden sighed at Baran's steady stream of forthright words.

The tension slowly eased from Aden's furrowed face.

As he lowered the hand from his hair, his neat locks fell into disarray.

Aden clicked his tongue lowly and turned away.

"We'll have to bar the Bozbon Family from entry. What a hassle."

Baran, watching Aden's back as he headed for the reception room, exhaled a soft sigh of relief.

Having swayed his obstinate lord, Baran hurried after the receding figure.

He traversed the corridor at a brisk pace and flung open the reception room door with the same momentum.

Countless eyes within turned toward Aden.

Aden scanned them before spotting Bellieta in the center, smiling at him.

Even knowing her true colors, the sight of her donning a mask of feigned warmth drew a scoff from Aden.

"Riplton Ghost Archduke..."

"Everyone except the Bozbon Duke's Daughter—out. Wait outside."

"Pardon?"

"Didn't you hear? I don't like crowds. If you want to speak with me, only the Bozbon Duke's Daughter stays. The rest, out."

The abrupt dismissal threw Bellieta's entourage into disarray.

A pot-bellied man glanced awkwardly at her from an uncertain stance.

Bellieta met Aden's impassive stare steadily before smiling quietly.

"Go on ahead. I'll handle this."

"Are you sure?"

"Just keep watch from outside—no issue. Go wait."

"...Understood."

With her permission granted, the pot-bellied man ushered the others out the door.

As the murmurs and chaos faded into silence, Aden's legs carried him forward.

Clack, clack.

His footfalls rent the quiet with resounding echoes.

Bellieta's eyes traced Aden's approaching steps languidly.

Aden claimed the chair opposite, crossing his long legs with fluid grace.

The entire sequence felt effortlessly refreshing.

"Such frightening eyes. Even if words fly freely, I'm still your fiancée, nominally."

"The engagement was unilaterally dissolved by the Bozbon Duke, as far as I know."

"Precisely—it's not dissolved yet. We've merely agreed to it."

Aden's lip curled at the semantic dodge.

His overt sneer slowly lifted Bellieta's brow.

Just one or two months prior, this man had been blindly devoted to her.

With Riplton's support cut off, leaving them isolated, Aden had no choice but to beg scraps from a mere duke's daughter.

Bellieta was his lifeline; securing her would save Riplton.

Yet in scant months, everything had reversed.

Bozbon had lost its grip on Riplton overnight—the pawn they thought secure in their palm.

Aden's demeanor toward Bozbon had shifted accordingly.

And it all stemmed from Brilloxen's aid.

"Right, an agreement. Next time, make it a firm dissolution. Then that word 'fiancée' won't pass your lips."

"Regardless, we're still engaged. Kindly refrain from rudeness and afford me the respect due."

Bellieta straightened her posture, reclining into the chair.

Mirroring Aden, she crossed her legs with haughty poise.

The kindly, innocent Bellieta.

The gracious, courteous Bozbon Duke's Daughter.

The empire's beloved child, adored by all.

None of that persona remained—only the imperious authority of a great noble.

To Aden, who knew her essence, her attitude felt familiar, almost comforting.

Like her father the duke, authority permeated her very bones.

A superiority complex brimming with chosen-one elitism.

That was Bellieta's true nature.

"Rude behavior, you say. What exactly?"

"For instance, making me wait hours in a crowded place like today. And..."

Bellieta trailed off, dipping her chin slightly.

Her narrowed brow bespoke deep discomfort.

"Dancing at the banquet with your fiancée's close friend—without so much as informing her."

"I wondered why you'd trek all this way. Just to say that?"

Aden rose as if the matter unworthy of further engagement.

He gripped his disheveled suit with both hands, yanking it taut and pristine.

A resolute refusal to reveal any vulnerability.

"Whom I dance with at a banquet is no concern of the duke's daughter. Didn't you yourself dance with other men sans my permission? Tit for tat."

"It's a bit different."

Bellieta stood, locking eyes with Aden directly.

"I didn't dance with the rumored principals. But Your Excellency did—with the source of all the talk, my supposed imitator, Sierra."

Aden's brow twitched at Sierra's name on Bellieta's tongue.

"I suffered some humiliation because of it. Rumors aside, plenty viewed me as the loser. They curse Sierra for her mimicry, yet amusingly pity me, the one whose fiancé was stolen, as the defeated."

"And you blame me for that?"

"No, not Your Excellency's fault. It's simply because I command such fame and renown in noble society and the social scene."

She flicked her wrist gracefully, placing her hand atop her chest—a picture of hauteur.

Young and newly adult, yet Bellieta's form radiated the arrogance of high nobility.

The only daughter of Bozbon, afforded treatment rivaling the imperial princess—it was only natural.

"So, my request: tread carefully in your actions henceforth. I abhor being fodder for malicious gossip like at that banquet. Especially anything involving Sierra."

She emphasized the finale, smiling demurely.

Aden regarded her steadily, then quirked his lip upward.

Bellieta's eyes gleamed at having bent him.

"I'm glad you understa—"

"In other words, not merely to spare you embarrassment—but to ensure Sierra never outshines you."

"...What did you say?"

Her triumphant smile froze solid.

As Bellieta reeled from the bullseye, Aden retreated, widening the gap.

His expression icy, he faced her and spoke lowly.

"No need for pretense anyway. I have a keen eye for people. While others fall for your facade, I've always seen through to your core. The Brilloxen Lady? Unlike some, she doesn't prop herself up by using others. Genuine. Passionate. So drop the needless schemes and head home."

Aden approached the door and twisted the handle.

Leaning against the ajar portal, he glanced back at her.

A crooked smirk played on his lips.

"In Harmonia, crows devour those who harm others with lies. If you don't fancy being eaten, best make haste."

"Wh-what..."

"Ah."

Aden paused mid-turn with a short exclamation, extending a finger.

Not toward her—but the documents atop the table.

"Leave those."

Thud.

The door shut.