Chapter 36

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: There Is No Mercy 36

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Sierra stared silently at Bellieta, who had drawn a clear line and twisted everything in her own favor, then let the corner of her mouth curl up in a smirk.

First off, the idea that her apology meant admitting fault?

What flimsy logic.

"Bellieta. I think you're misunderstanding something."

"What do you mean?"

"I apologized to you just to put an end to this mess. That was the only reason."

"......Sierra?"

"And that's because......"

She trailed off as she rose from her seat, and Bellieta's eyes followed her up.

After a brief silence, she timed her words perfectly and parted her lips slowly.

"Si......"

"I did nothing wrong. Right?"

Just like you'd always say.

She turned her head and saw the frozen faces of the maids.

These maids, who drew their salaries from the Brilloxen family, had just witnessed them defending Bellieta right in front of her. It was clear there was no time to delay an internal purge.

She stepped forward and locked eyes one by one with those who had openly taken Bellieta's side or shown sympathy.

A sneer crept onto her lips at the number who flinched and looked away under her gaze.

She's planted quite a few, hasn't she.

"I'm only human. It doesn't sit well with me that I was pressured by my own maids into apologizing when I haven't done anything wrong. I'll head inside now. Go home safely."

She turned toward the open terrace doors but paused, then looked back.

She flashed a bright smile at the rigid Bellieta.

"Oh, and don't worry—I'm not upset because of you, Bellieta."

If stealing my family, killing my parents, and taking my man was your fault... then whose would it be?

The rage that surged every time she saw her, the bone-chilling cold that wrapped around her sinking body into the abyss.

Whose fault was all of that, Bellieta?

Even in this moment, staring into her eyes, this urge to tear her apart and kill her... whose anger was it?

She swept her gaze over the maids trailing behind her and erased her smile.

"You're not at fault."

As always.

"You called for me?"

Daytum, the head butler who entered the room, adjusted the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

She nodded, stood, and handed him the neatly organized approval documents.

"These are the personnel replacement approvals I mentioned before. The list is included, so process them accordingly."

"Understood. That said, are you replacing Rita as well? She's capable and quick on the uptake—you seemed quite fond of her, miss."

"I was. But I can't let personal feelings deprive other territory folk of their rightful benefits. See to it thoroughly."

"I'll handle it that way. Personnel changes will take some time, though."

"Not enough replacements ready?"

"They're prepared. But filling in for the newcomers at next week's military supplies conference will be short-handed. Their tasks may seem minor, but each one handles important duties in their positions. We can't replace them overnight—training and adaptation are needed."

Come to think of it, the military supplies conference was next week.

She stared at the desk calendar for a moment, then nodded.

"Proceed as planned, then. Just hold off on notifications until after the conference. With my parents gone, I don't want any unnecessary commotion in this empty mansion."

"Understood."

"You're dismissed."

She sat back down and picked up her pen.

Daytum bowed silently and turned toward the door.

As he left, she lowered her gaze from his back to sort the documents, then looked up again.

"Ah, butler."

"Yes, miss."

"Heard anything about the vice captain?"

"Vice Captain... If you mean Gilbert Vice Knight Captain, nothing at all. The only notable thing is that he's taken two days' leave up to today."

"I see."

Quite some time had passed since her conversation with Gilbert.

She'd given him enough time for an answer by now, but there was nothing.

No returned statement paper, no other response.

Not even from Bellieta's side.

"Keep a close eye on Gilbert Vice Knight Captain for the time being. Report immediately if he acts suspiciously or has any odd contacts."

"Understood."

If he had ulterior motives, it wouldn't take long to show.

But in the end, Gilbert had only one path to choose.

An exposed spy could find no safety anywhere.

Bellieta would move to eliminate him without fail to cover her tracks.

"The rainy season's finally ending."

It was the start of the sweltering heat.

Weston Pallieva was the current head of the Pallieva Duke family and simultaneously the Bertos Empire's Minister of State.

He was the empire's de facto number two, second only to the emperor.

The Pallieva family, which had monopolized the military supplies industry for ages, was said to possess an inexhaustible gold mine.

Moreover, as in-laws to the imperial family through multiple empresses, they enjoyed quasi-royal prestige.

"Father, I have something weighing on me."

The Pallieva family seemed to want for nothing, free of such trivial worries, yet lately, family head Weston found himself plagued by pointless ones.

True to his creed of always breakfasting with family, all eyes at the laden table turned to Kestian.

Weston pointed his bread knife at the rather serious-looking Kestian.

"Do you manufacture a new worry every single day? Or are you doing this just to gauge my reaction?"

Weston raised an eyebrow in weary exasperation.

Kestian's younger sister, Rubiche, chimed in to back him up.

"Brother, that's four days now. If you have something to say, spit it out—or better yet, just stop. Listening to your nonsense every morning is exhausting."

"Rubiche, this one's legitimate. Hear me out."

Rubiche shrugged in disgust, poking at her scrambled eggs with her fork.

Kestian met each pair of eyes watching him, let the tension build, then his lit up.

"I spotted a platypus by chance yesterday, and it got me wondering—is it a duck or a platypus? The bill screams duck, but the name's platypus. And its looks are closer to a mole than anything......"

"Knew it. I'm the fool for falling for it again. Father, I'll take my leave first."

Rubiche sighed and rose from her seat.

Kestian's siblings followed suit.

"Why? Where's everyone going?! I'm serious this time!"

No reply came to Kestian's desperate call after his departing siblings.

In the end, only Weston remained, facing him across the table.

Weston let out a small sigh and set down his butter knife.

He pushed aside his bread plate, interlaced his fingers neatly, and rested them on the table.

"Kestian, as your sister said, if you want a seat at the table, you need some weight to you. Get too light, and you won't even sit—you'll just float away. Especially the seat you'll soon claim."

Unlike the flighty Kestian, Weston's voice, actions, and gestures carried unmistakable gravitas.

Born into a duke's family, raised as heir, lived a lifetime as duke—learning how to embody it—Weston saw Kestian as an anomaly.

The eldest son had been drilled in etiquette, decorum, and poise.

Brilliant and quick-witted, Kestian had soaked it up like a sponge at first, but as the years passed, he'd grown ever lighter.

Weston disapproved, yet he couldn't reprimand him.

Kestian's talents were exceptional; he always proved his worth through results.

"Always keep your mind composed and your bearing impeccable. This world picks at a single stain on your shoes. Haven't you learned anything from watching your father?"

"And yet I hear you've been obsessed with salsa dancing lately. People have seen you dancing in your office during work hours? You used to say such dances were frivolous, unfit for nobility."

"......"

Weston inwardly cursed the aide who'd promised secrecy only to tattle to Kestian, forcing an awkward smile.

"It's a hobby......"

"The other day, I peeked at the mail in your room—salsa dance amateur contest entry form......"

"Kestian!!"

Weston shot up from his seat in a panic.

The chair clattered loudly backward.

Kestian widened his eyes in feigned shock before breaking into a grin.

"Fell right off your chair, didn't you?"

"......All talk, no substance."

Weston gritted his teeth, righted the chair, and sat back down.

As Kestian beamed, Weston tsked and leaned back at an angle.

To Weston, head of the Ministry of State, Kestian was an outstanding talent.

He had the makings of his successor as Minister of State.

Weston calmed his racing heart and spoke lowly.

"Are you prepared for next week's military supplies conference?"

"No issues. With Brilloxen's support, we'll secure plenty of moderate votes. Passing the agenda should be straightforward."

"Brilloxen...... The Brilloxen Lady will attend this time."

Bellieta was infamous, but Sierra was nearly as well-known.

Most opinions of her were poor, but Weston didn't judge people by rumors.

"I don't know how the Brilloxen Count raised his daughter, but she's a fine young lady. Knowledgeable, with insight and depth rare for her age. Her level of erudition goes without saying."

"She told me herself at the last ball. The Brilloxens support the Pallieva family's direction. She brought it up unprompted—it caught me off guard, but it helped."

"A wise girl. If only the Brilloxen Count hadn't refused, she could've been a match for you. Such a pity."