Chapter 35

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: There Is No Mercy Chapter 35

-----------------------------------------------------------------

From the hot and humid morning brought by the rainy season, an unwelcome guest showed up.

"Sierra! I've missed you!"

The visitor burst in just as I had finished breakfast and was about to have a cup of tea. Guests like this were never a delight.

Especially if it was Bellieta.

I'd wondered why the morning doves were screeching so noisily from the old pavilion, and now I knew—it was an omen of bad news.

This crazy woman shows up at my room without even sending word first. I swallowed the curse words bubbling up in my mouth.

"What's this sudden visit about?"

"Come on. Why so cold? Have we ever made plans to meet? If I miss you, we just meet like this."

Ah, right. That was how it usually went.

I was almost always the one going to her first.

And if I sought her out in person, it was never for anything good.

Facing that face first thing in the morning—the one that made curses spring to mind the moment I saw it—made the whole day feel as overcast as the cloudy sky from the monsoon.

But this was sudden, even for her.

We'd had that confrontation at the ball two weeks ago, yet here she was, acting like nothing had happened and striking up conversation again.

Looking at her smiling face now, the expression I'd seen on Bellieta at the ball felt like an illusion.

I turned away from heading to my room.

My instincts told me that if I took her there, I'd be dealing with her all day long.

Even as I headed to the terrace, Bellieta kept chattering nonstop.

I gave vague replies and sat down on the terrace. Bellieta hesitated.

I glanced at her, and she furrowed her brow.

"It's raining, and you pick the terrace?"

"What's wrong with that? The rain isn't coming in, and the breeze isn't too strong. Drinking tea while watching the rain doesn't sound bad. Don't like it?"

"It's humid. And raindrops are splashing. Not my thing. Let's go inside."

Bellieta's demeanor was so natural as she showed up unannounced and decided where we'd have tea.

She's awfully composed. Acting like she knows nothing about what happened in Genoa.

Her brazen face, thicker than a steel plate, was so repulsive that I had to force down a sneer.

I stared quietly at Bellieta's back as she headed toward the open terrace door, and forgotten memories resurfaced.

"Bellieta."

She turned at my call.

Seeing me still seated, she pouted in clear displeasure. I hid a chuckle and spoke.

"Have you made up with Marchioness Huren?"

"...Why bring that up out of nowhere?"

"Just worried, that's all."

I gave a soft smile to Bellieta, whose expression had stiffened slightly, and beckoned with my hand.

The maid set out the teacups and refreshments on the table at my gesture.

Amid the patter of rain, black tea filled the cups.

Steam rose gently.

I leisurely picked up my teacup, eyes away from Bellieta.

Bellieta stayed silent for a long while, only moving as I took a sip.

"Hot black tea and a terrace in this humid, sweltering monsoon—hardly a match."

"Brilloxen produces the most black tea in the Empire. Isn't it natural to enjoy it even in summer?"

Bellieta hesitated with a sulky face, teacup in hand, after my calm reply.

She didn't even touch her tea until I'd tilted my cup three times, then finally set it down.

Lifting my gaze from the teacup on the table, I saw her scowling.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"What you just said."

My tea had cooled, so I called the maid.

A brief silence fell as she brought a fresh cup and swapped it out.

Once the maid who tended the tea left, I calmly crossed my legs.

"I overheard something. At Marchioness Huren's tea party, she got angry. I don't know the details, but apparently she cornered you, who was attending. I was curious if things worked out, so I asked."

Bellieta put on an innocent, childlike act, but it was all fake.

She was cunning and knew exactly how to manipulate emotions.

Pretending ignorance to toy with people, feigning innocence to use them.

I'd fallen for it too, as had others, dancing to Bellieta's tune.

It might not click at first—just suspicion—but after a few encounters, you'd realize.

That Bellieta was playing you.

The incident with Marchioness Huren was the same.

Marchioness Huren was a refined noblewoman who loved flowers.

She was sociable enough to invite fellow ladies and young misses to tea parties in her own flower beds.

Many attended her tea parties, including Bellieta.

"Marchioness Huren is kind and good-hearted. Plus, Marquis Huren has deep ties to the Bozbon family, so you should apologize first."

Marchioness Huren was one of the few who knew my true nature.

Before my return, she'd subtly warned me that Bellieta was after Reiton Bladia.

In other words, she didn't think much of Bellieta either.

"So you're saying I was wrong?"

Bellieta, who had clamped her mouth shut at my words, reacted sensitively.

Her face and expression remained calm, but she couldn't hide the slight raise of her eyebrows or the twist of her lips.

The untouched tea had long gone cold.

"Sierra, are you really saying that?"

"Not that you were wrong. Just that there's no need to turn your back on a noble marchioness over a spat."

"That's the same thing."

The gentle, kind-looking Bellieta.

Many mistook her selfless facade for broad understanding and willingness to yield, thinking her a gracious duke's daughter.

"I did nothing wrong, Sierra. You know that."

But Bellieta was the opposite.

She couldn't admit her faults or compromise.

Her pretended selflessness and stepping back only happened when she lost interest.

The only daughter of the Bozbon Duke's family, raised on nothing but love, never admitted wrongdoing or apologized.

"How could you say that to me? How?! How could my dearest, most cherished friend say something like...!"

Bellieta raised her voice as if angry, then burst into tears.

The surrounding maids gasped and whispered at her sudden outburst.

Bellieta, eyes brimming with tears as she stared at me, covered her face with her palm.

Thanks to her antics, I instantly became the heartless friend who made her dear visiting friend cry.

'Disgusting.'

In the past, I'd have panicked and soothed her over that act, but not anymore.

Observing from a step away, my first reaction was astonishment.

At the sudden crying, at twisting the situation to her advantage.

Even every word she threw at me.

All calculated.

I could guess why she'd come without notice.

Bellieta wanted to rewind our relationship to before the ball.

To the inescapable, old dynamic, thrashing to flee yet unable to.

I'd brought up Marchioness Huren, but Bellieta had flipped it to steer the mood her way.

As I kept silent while she cried, the atmosphere grew awkward.

The maids fidgeted, stealing glances at me.

But that didn't mean I'd step in to calm her.

The forced crier was waiting for me to soothe her.

Why should I?

If I didn't, only the cryer would tire out.

I waited quietly for Bellieta to wear herself down.

But the wait shattered with an unexpected interruption.

"Um... Miss Sierra."

I turned to see Rita approaching, posture awkward and hesitant.

I tilted my head, and she glanced at Bellieta before cautiously speaking.

"It's not my place, but maybe apologize now? There are eyes watching, and the mood's so awkward..."

Rita meddled with an innocent face, tossing words under the excuse of concern.

Impressive.

I knew she'd already sided with Bellieta, but her loyalty put knights to shame.

Turning from Rita's awkward smile, I saw the maids' reactions plainly.

"You've been friends with the lady for so long—better to make up than keep fighting."

"I agree, miss. There are onlookers, and the count might end up embarrassed."

"Calming down a bit wouldn't hurt."

As I listened quietly, the maids chimed in one after another.

Ha, the maids hired by Brilloxen siding with Bellieta over me?

And not just mediating—they even dragged my father's name into it from a mere maid's mouth.

Their guts were spilling out.

I flicked my eyes over, and Bellieta—face covered, still crying—glared at the maids.

Making sure they performed well?

I stifled the laugh threatening to burst out at the absurdity and spoke.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

I pushed my teacup aside and stood.

Looking at Rita's brightening face, I gave her a smile in return.

Turning, I faced Bellieta, who stared at me with tear-streaked eyes.

"Bellieta. Forget what I said and stop crying. You know I didn't mean it that way."

"...Really? You really didn't mean it like that?"

"Of course. How could I not trust you? Right?"

Even saccharine lies felt nauseating to voice.

But Bellieta seemed pleased with the answer regardless, slowly smiling and nodding.

"Okay. I'll believe you."

Bellieta beamed like the sun peeking through storm clouds and finally settled back into her seat.

Rita, who had meddled under the guise of worry, returned to her spot looking relieved.

The tense, frozen atmosphere thawed once more.

Bellieta asked for a fresh hot cup, then grinned at me as if she'd never cried.

"Sierra, I knew you'd apologize."

"Yeah."

"Of course. You're always so understanding, always thinking of me—my most precious friend. And the Sierra I know apologizes right away if she's wrong. I figured this time too."

As I casually replied and lifted my teacup, her odd words made me look up.

Bellieta's enigmatic expression—was she smiling, or glaring with narrowed eyes?—was unreadable.

"Thanks for apologizing first, Sierra."