Chapter 4

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 4

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Perhaps quite embarrassed at having been knocked flat in front of the whole family, Nils kept spewing vicious curses. He seemed oblivious to the fact that it only made him look uglier.

Nils soon gathered himself from the pain and stood up, but his head must have been ringing because he kept staggering even then.

Nils spat out the blood pooled in his mouth and, upon discovering a piece of tooth mixed in it, instantly twisted his face.

Nils rushed to one side of the study and roughly snatched the sword hanging on the wall.

"You... I'll take your head. I'll chop it off!"

Nils turned to Iona, roaring with the momentum to draw the sword at any moment.

Iona replied without the slightest hint of agitation on her face.

"Draw it."

"......"

"That sword. Draw it."

But even though she'd set the stage for him, Nils couldn't bring himself to unsheathe it.

Sweat beaded on the temples of the man who had been so full of bravado moments before.

He seemed to sense it instinctively. That the Iona from here on out would be different from before—that she wouldn't submit to them and endure their unfair treatment like she used to.

"When you desire your opponent's life, you must first be prepared to offer your own neck. Take responsibility for what you've done, Nils Modroff."

Iona spoke flatly as she removed the glove from her left hand. Then she hurled it straight at Nils's face.

Nils gritted his teeth, watching it smack his nose dead-on before falling to the floor.

It was just as he slowly bent his knees to pick it up. Hayden called his son's name with a pale face.

"Nils!"

All eyes turned to Hayden.

Hayden warned his son in a low voice.

"Step back."

"But Father, just..."

"Step back!"

Nils reluctantly straightened up. He silently moved to stand beside his father, as if to emphasize he couldn't defy him.

From that safe vantage point, a subtle relief flickered in Nils's glaring eyes as he stared at Iona.

At that ridiculous sight, Iona let out a deflating laugh despite herself.

"At least the older one can judge the situation better."

Hayden gripped the armrests of his chair, barely suppressing his fury.

Seeing her trusted father and brother cowed like that, Ivonne shrank back preemptively and averted her eyes.

"Iona, you should leave now."

Hayden commanded her, tension plain on his face.

But instead of obeying, Iona slowly stepped forward.

As she drew closer, the expressions of those watching her shifted moment by moment.

Iona observed those pitiful people and fell into brief contemplation.

Was this a dream, or reality?

If the latter, was it divine punishment commanding her to repeat her past tribulations? Or a gift to savor her victory a little longer?

Perhaps the gods, to commend her hard-fought life, had shown mercy by granting a gentle end. To give her the chance to become a slightly more intact corpse.

'But if so, why return to this exact moment?'

She had been able to face death without regrets because she harbored none.

Yet why were these people—who should have gone to the grave with her—standing alive and breathing right before her eyes?

She had regained her life, but unfortunately, that fortune extended to her enemies as well.

'If there's a place for me to die, it's when my death means the extinction of the Modroff family.'

"Can't you hear me telling you to get out? Go to your room already!"

Openly ignored, Hayden lost control of his temper and bellowed.

Iona halted abruptly, then picked up the glove from the floor.

She dusted it off and slipped it back on; the leather familiarly gripped her knuckles.

Slowly clenching her fist, Iona curled her lips into a sneer.

"I've already been caged alive far too long to follow that order."

Revenge was something she'd done once already, so it wouldn't be all that difficult. With the chance to nail their coffins shut twice over, it might even be a more leisurely path.

Iona decided to use that leisure to settle her debts of gratitude while she was at it.

"Besides, I understand the appointed day to meet the Duke isn't far off."

Hayden's jaw twitched, as if struck right in the core.

Iona peered into his eyes and asked leisurely.

"How much time is left?"

"Did you finish your talk with the Count well?"

The ones greeting Iona back in her room were equally unwelcome faces.

Her personal maids, Betty and Greta, had been waiting to receive her.

Their attitudes were a pretense of courtesy, but neither truly served Iona.

At this time, the head of the household was Hayden, so the servants had no choice but to bend to his whims.

In other words, it meant every detail of Iona's life flowed straight to Hayden's ears through them.

Thus, Iona reflexively sighed the moment she faced them.

Strictly speaking, she'd been caught in combat and an explosion, died and revived, and even traded barbs with her family.

With every person she encountered being an enemy, exhaustion was inevitable.

Exercising what little patience she had left, Iona asked plainly.

"Betty, is Paula in the mansion too?"

"No, she's taken leave and gone to her hometown for a bit."

"I see. Then send a letter telling her not to return to the mansion. After that task, you're all fired."

"......Pardon?"

Betty blinked in shock at the unexpected order, forcing an awkward smile as if to defuse the situation.

But Iona didn't reassure them it was a joke, and soon an odd tension settled between them.

Betty shot Iona a bitter look, then dropped the pretense of decorum.

She warned in a calm voice.

"The Count won't let this slide."

It was the response Iona had expected, so she felt no fresh anger.

They had always betrayed her so spectacularly at pivotal moments like this.

She could keep them around and pretend nothing had changed, but Iona no longer wished to endure such tedium.

Iona looked down at them coldly and said.

"If the Count asks why you're being dismissed, tell him 'The girls you sent were careless and got found out.'"

Speechless, Betty turned to Greta for backup.

After a brief glance between them, Greta stepped up next.

"......Miss, we are attending you on the Count's orders. For you to dismiss us arbitrarily like this is tantamount to defying his will. We're only saying this for your own good, so please don't take it the wrong way."

It sounded kindly at first glance, but the intent was coercive—essentially, be smart and back down while we're asking nicely. Iona's patience hit its limit.

"How strange. I make my living with a sword, yet everyone in this mansion wags their tongue fearlessly in front of me..."

Iona trailed off as she took a step toward them.

She gently caressed the hilt of the sword at her waist, and the maids' faces gradually drained of color.

Iona tapped the pommel with her fingertips and continued.

"Is your nerve that thick? Or do you believe your current backer will protect you even in death?"

Betty flinched back despite herself, her eyes darting rapidly between Iona's waist and face.

She replied in a voice thick with tremor.

"......I'll report to the Count first."

"No need to come back."

Iona chuckled shortly and stepped back. The moment an opening appeared, they bolted out like their tails were on fire.

Left alone, Iona locked the door firmly and flopped straight onto the bed.

After the commotion earlier, Hayden wouldn't ignore her relayed message.

In any case, worsening his relationship with her any further wouldn't benefit him either.

Especially since she was soon to become the Duchess.

'The Duchess, huh.'

Recalling her past title unbidden, a hollow laugh escaped her lips.