Chapter 37

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: No Mercy 37

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With genuine regret in his mutterings, Wyston tilted his head.

Kestian shot him a questioning look, as if asking what he meant, and Wyston rubbed his chin.

"I thought having such a poised and serious girl by your side—mature beyond her years—might teach you a thing or two. But the Brilloxen Count wouldn't let her go. She's not yet of age, he said, and he'll wait until his daughter chooses for herself."

"...Is that so?"

Kestian murmured softly, furrowing his brow.

Wyston eyed the frozen Kestian curiously, his gaze dropping diagonally.

Suddenly, Kestian's expression turned serious, prompting Wyston to tilt his head.

After a brief silence, Kestian lifted his head again. The lighthearted, playful look was gone, replaced by earnest intensity.

"At the last ball, the Brilloxen Lady danced with the Riplton Ghost Archduke."

"I heard. The social circles were buzzing about it."

"For that wise lady to dance with the infamous Riplton Ghost Archduke means she has her reasons. Right, Father?"

Kestian rose from his seat and picked up the coat draped over the chair.

As Wyston awkwardly stood, Kestian slipped on the coat and swept back his disheveled bangs.

"Now that's intriguing. The count's lady who danced with the monster called an archduke. A woman who tames an untamable beast is always captivating."

"What are you scheming?"

Kestian shrugged at Wyston's question.

His face brimmed with conviction—serious yet vibrant.

"The usual predictable thoughts."

Recalling Sierra approaching Aden from the minibar, Kestian's lips curved smoothly upward.

"Come in."

The door opened with her short reply.

Bellieta, who had been sipping tea, spotted Viscount Krembel entering and rose to approach him.

As she extended her hand with a smile, Krembel grasped it reverently with both of his.

"Welcome. Thank you for coming at such short notice, Viscount Krembel."

"Not at all. When the Bozbon Duke's Daughter summons me, how could I refuse?"

Though Bellieta held no official ducal title or handled real duties, Krembel maintained an exceedingly humble posture.

Even with the formidable backing of the Bozbon Duke looming behind her, it was overly deferential.

Bellieta watched Krembel bow deeply, then smiled and gestured to a chair.

"Thank you again for coming. You must be busy, yet you came all this way."

"It's nothing. A rare chance to see such a beautiful lady? Only a fool would decline."

Krembel chuckled heartily with a flirtatious lilt, but his trembling eyes, his tongue moistening dry lips, and his fidgety hands betrayed him.

To Krembel, Bellieta was a lifeline he had to seize.

Bellieta already knew without him saying it.

Observing him leisurely, she gave a slight smile, and Krembel mirrored it awkwardly.

"I've heard you've been quite busy lately. That military supply law reform you're pushing is facing hurdles."

"Yes. My family built its fortune on military supplies. It's been our trade since my grandfather's father. We've managed fine until now, but recently, massive tariffs hit our exports. I've been asking for relief since last year, but it's stalled."

"What's causing the delay?"

Bellieta's question was exactly what Krembel had hoped she'd ask.

Yet it was a delicate matter for a minor noble to voice freely, so he hesitated.

With no immediate answer, Bellieta smiled to ease the tension.

"Trust me. I called you here to help, Viscount Krembel."

Krembel wavered briefly, then nodded and got to the point.

"The Pallieva Duke family is opposing the tax relief."

"Why? Wouldn't lower taxes boost exports?"

"The Pallieva family has monopolized military supplies for centuries. As you know, the industry ties directly to imperial security, so it was always insular. That started loosening thirty years ago, and everyone but Pallieva shifted to exports."

"In short, Pallieva fears families growing via exports encroaching on their domestic market, so they're tightening export rules?"

Krembel nodded.

Bellieta leaned back, feigning thought.

But her mind was already made up; it was mere theater.

In the quiet, she raised her gaze.

"That's unjust. The Pallieva family is a true pillar of the empire with great contributions, but we can't let personal greed stifle a growing industry."

Finishing, Bellieta stood and approached Krembel.

Her smile was earnest yet soft.

Krembel suddenly understood why so many followed her.

"House Bozbon supports your path, Viscount. So, do your best."

"Really?"

"Of course. Nothing's more joyful than joining a good cause."

Bellieta offered her hand with a beaming smile.

Krembel gripped it gratefully with both hands and bowed deeply.

"Good luck at the meeting."

"Thank you! Thank you, Lady!"

Gazing down at Krembel, who bent until his back was fully visible, Bellieta's eyes curved gently.

Her lips twisted into a subtle smile—one Krembel couldn't see.

"You're early. Best wishes for this year as well."

Ricardo Count, who oversaw the twice-yearly military supply conference, bowed politely.

After returning the courteous greeting, I handed my bag to the maid, reached in, and pulled something out.

"You must work hard preparing these every time. Here."

"A gift?"

"A bribe."

Ricardo Count examined the wine box I'd given him with keen interest.

His eyes lit up delightedly at the ornate packaging on the sturdy wooden case.

Ricardo Count was a wine enthusiast.

Moreover, he managed not just the military conferences but the capital's merchant guild too.

No reason to look bad on me.

"A bribe like this? I'd take a hundred. I'll enjoy it gratefully."

I nodded with a smile.

Ricardo Count had his butler show me to my room.

After unpacking and changing, I summoned Riphert, who had come with me.

I swiveled my chair to face him as he entered.

"No news on the vice captain yet?"

"No, miss. As you instructed, we've got him under surveillance, so he can't run or act suspiciously."

"Good. Keep watching. Oh, and I need the attendee list for this conference. I got one before departure, but it changed, so confirm."

"Understood."

"Just during the meeting. I've assigned someone else for my guard, so act as my aide."

Riphert nodded curtly, then eyed me as if asking if there was more.

Still the taciturn type.

I shook my head with a quiet laugh.

Riphert bowed silently and left.

Alone in the room after he departed, I skimmed the agenda items, and an old memory surfaced.

"Come to think of it, this tax reform caused quite a stir."

I recalled the military export tax relief passing amid major backlash.

Pallieva family especially took heavy losses.

Export-focused markets boomed while domestic shrank.

Pallieva suffered hugely, and supply couldn't meet internal demand, spiking prices.

"Is this the main agenda?"

As I reviewed and organized my thoughts, footsteps approached the door.

Voices grew rowdy.

Wondering what was up, I rose and opened the door.

A familiar face stood before the guarding knight.

"Young Master Pallieva? What are you doing there?"

"Lady Sierra. Could you explain to them? I'm the eldest son of the Pallieva Duke family."

He was filthy, clothes caked in dirt from who-knows-where, held by the knights.

I gestured that it was fine, and Kestian, released, sighed in relief.

Had he rolled in mud? Or been beaten? His outfit was beyond splattered—full-on ground-tumbled grime.

Sensing my gaze, Kestian grinned sheepishly.

"I was catching moles. They look like ori... whatever, so I wanted to compare."

"Ori... what?"

"Yeah, that. Anyway, long time no see, and I'm a mess. I rushed here with something for you. Forgive the outfit."

Mid-mole talk, Kestian pulled a small box from his pocket.

It was palm-sized.

If not so worn, I'd swear it was a ring box.

He opened it, revealing a transparent orb inside.

"It's a prototype, but I brought it for you to see."

"What's this? Looks like a bead... What's it for?"

Kestian opened his mouth to answer but glanced at the knight and paused.

Stepping back, I let him in, and he closed the door.

Grinning, Kestian took the orb from the box in my hand.

"It's a bomb."

"...What? A bomb?"