Vol. 1 - Ch. 11

The mansion, which had been quiet for the past few days, was unusually noisy. The Chambermaid knew very well that the reason for this was her niece, Angela. As the Chambermaid mulled over the stories she had heard from her subordinates, flames of anger engulfed her.

Angela's parents had disappeared shortly after her birth, leaving the Chambermaid with no choice but to take her in and raise her.

As a child, Angela had been nothing but a troublesome and useless burden, but as she grew older and prettier, the Chambermaid had thought of grooming her to become the concubine of a wealthy nobleman. But then, out of the blue, she caused a scandal.

'She must be really crazy.'

How else could she have stolen and damaged the portraits of the Madam and His Excellency? She had no feeling of attachment with her blood relative, but there was another reason why the Chambermaid was anxious.

'Could she be planning on dragging me down with her?'

The Chambermaid had worked her way up from a mere maid to her current position. She had devoted her entire life to this mansion, and  had a solid understanding of Edmund's character. With the Madam gone and the household in disarray, there was no way Angela could escape severe punishment for causing such trouble.

The Chambermaid knew that Edmund would surely interrogate Angela, and that cunning girl would stop at nothing to reveal everything she knew in order to save herself.

If the Chambermaid had nothing to hide, this would be of no consequence. But that wasn't the case.

Edmund was meticulous in his work, yet surprisingly indifferent to certain matters.

The Chambermaid had first manipulated the ledgers to launder money seven years ago, when Edmund had gone off to war. But she couldn't do it alone. That was why she had involved Angela.

'Should I take action?'

She was calmly plotting her next move, as if she was used to this kind of situation.

"Chambermaid, are you inside?"

"Marinda?"

The Chambermaid was startled by Marinda's sudden appearance. Marinda had been confined to her room for two weeks for using the Mistress's carriage. But now, here she was, suddenly appearing.

The Chambermaid's surprise quickly turned to anger. She had heard that it was Marinda who had reported Angela. Marinda was smart enough to know that if something happened to Angela, the Chambermaid herself could be in danger. The Chambermaid couldn't forgive her for that.

"How dare you come here..."

"Chambermaid, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry..."

Marinda immediately burst into tears.

'Did she really think I would fall for such an act?' The Chambermaid narrowed her eyes and raised her hand, ready to punish Marinda for her betrayal.

"The fact that I reported Angela... I won't say anything in my defense because you may not believe me. But this is real!"

Just before the Chambermaid could strike, Marinda pulled out a crumpled note from her pocket. It was hastily scribbled, but legible. The Chambermaid recognized it as Angela's handwriting.

'If you want to live, work with me. Tell His Excellency that the Chambermaid was the one behind this, otherwise, I'll expose everything.'

"Th-this ungrateful wretch...!"

The Chambermaid leaped from her seat after reading the note. Her heart pounded furiously.

She was terrified that Marinda might actually follow through. Since Marinda had already gained trust by reporting Angela, His Excellency would surely believe her, and the Chambermaid's life would be ruined.

She looked at Marinda with anxious eyes. Marinda, however, seemed to be comforting the Chambermaid with a concerned expression.

"Please calm down, Chambermaid."

"Did you tell His Excellency?"

"Of course not!" Marinda shook her head, her eyes wide with disbelief at the mere suggestion. "Angela bribed me to deliver this to you, but how could I possibly betray you?"

Marinda claimed she had come as soon as she received the note, evading her guards. The Chambermaid sighed in relief and sank into her chair.

"But... I still feel uneasy."

"About what? Everything will be fine as long as you keep your mouth shut."

"I of course would do that, but how about the other maids?"

Marinda's face darkened as if she were contemplating this difficult situation.

"As long as Angela is alive, she'll keep threatening us."

"As long as she's alive... As long as she's alive, you say."

The Chambermaid muttered Marinda's words. Then, as if she had found the answer, she smiled calmly.

"Marinda, I'll take care of this. Just stay put."

Marinda quickly covered her mouth with her hand to hide a wide smile. Then, in a trembling voice, she replied with her head bowed.

"Yes, Chambermaid. I only trust you..."

Everything was going exactly according to Marinda's plan.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The Winters had dinner together for the first time in a long time. As usual, the dining room was quiet, with only the occasional clinking of cutlery breaking the silence. It was the same as always, yet somehow different.

"I heard that you're bringing an art restorer expert from the capital."

At Damian's words, Edmund's hand paused briefly. But it was only for a fleeting moment that no one noticed. Edmund resumed moving his hand naturally.

"Yes, it was severely damaged."

"I see."

Silence ensued.

"When will the search party leave again?"

"They're still preparing."

"When exactly do they..."

"Damian."

Instead of answering his question, Edmund called his name. Damian, who was unable to concentrate the whole meal, suddenly raised his head. Edmund looked at the face that resembled him, still with its youthful vigor.

"Stop worrying about that matter and focus on your successor training."

"But... Yes, I understand."

The dining room fell silent again after the short conversation.

Damian forced himself to pick up his cutlery, but the food never reached his mouth, while Edmund only drank his wine. As the meal ended and Demian prepared to return to his room, he recalled what had happened earlier that day.

"Oh, Father, thank you for the coming-of-age gift you got me. I like it."

Upon receiving his thanks, Edmund wondered if he liked that gift that much.

"But why did you send it anonymously?"

"Anonymously?"

"I almost didn't notice it because it was mixed with the other nobles' gifts."

He noticed that Edmund seemed to be confused, so Damian shifted his body. Only then did Edmund notice a sword he had never seen before hanging on his son's waist.

"I'm talking about the second coming-of-age gift you got me, this custom-made sword."

Edmund responded with a puzzled expression, "That sword... wasn't from me."

Late at night, Damian couldn't fall asleep. He usually stuck to a strict schedule, knowing that if he stayed awake like this, it would affect the next day's plans. But he couldn't sleep at all.

The cause of his restlessness was that mysterious sword.

He sat on the windowsill, staring at the sword lying on the table. Despite having eaten well, he felt a tightness in his throat, as if the food was stuck. Overwhelmed, he returned to his bed and immediately summoned someone.

It was Summer, a former blacksmith now working as a gardener. The moment Damian took out the sword, Summer gasped in admiration.

"I've never seen a sword like this before." Summer's eyes sparkled. "Can I touch it?"

With his permission, Summer vigorously rubbed *her already clean hands on her clothes until they turned red before carefully accepting the sword. She examined the sword with the delicate touch one might use with fragile glass, being very cautious.

(T/N: On the assumption that Summer is a woman, I'll use the pronoun 'her'. Unless I'm sure, then I will come back here and change it~)

"With my limited knowledge, there are only preservation, enhancement, and defense spells."

" 'Limited'? Do you mean there's more?"

"Yes, there are a few more, but these are all I know of."

Summer added that the cost must have been astronomical, comparing it to carrying around several diamond mines.

"Moreover, while the magic is impressive, the sword itself is also of extraordinary quality."

"Can you identify who made this?"

"The markings on this sword are unique, and this is my first time seeing them."

In other words, finding the person who made it was nearly impossible. With her skill level, Summer should have recognized such a master craftsman.

"Young Master, why don't you hold the sword?"

Following Summer's suggestion, Demian grasped the sword and stood up, causing Summer to cover her mouth in awe.

"I've never seen such perfect custom craftsmanship. This level of completion is impossible without having the Young Master hold it at each stage of the forging process."

The sword managed to impress Summer, who had retired due to age and injury but was once a blacksmith coveted by all warriors, so much that Damian was taken aback.

"Wasn't this a gift from His Excellency? I should ask him to introduce me to the person who made this right now."

Before Damian could stop her, Summer quickly left the room. Demian lowered the hand he had awkwardly extended to stop her.

At first, he had no doubt that the sword was from his father. But turned out it wasn't. Edmund, for once, had shown a rare look of bewilderment and firmly denied it was from him.

'Then who could it be?'

A sword perfectly tailored to his body, as if crafted to fit him at every strike of the hammer. A sword made with a staggering amount of money. It was only natural for Damian to suspect Edmund. There was no one else who knew him so well or would invest so much in him.

He examined the sword that Summer had carefully laid down. The handle bore a small engraving.

Somehow, it felt familiar.

To calm his uneasy heart, Damian had the habit of touching the back of his necklace. The small necklace that fit in his hand was so plain that it seemed unworthy of a Duchy's successor. Yet, the blue gem emitting a subtle light was beautiful enough to overshadow its crude appearance.

This necklace, the most precious thing Damian owned, was the only keepsake left by his deceased mother.

"... Mother."

Demian mustered the courage to call out to the mother he never knew by name. As if in response, the blue gem glowed more beautifully. The gem's brilliance was even more pronounced when compared to its charred frame.

'Mother.'

He thought of the woman who was currently his mother as he looked at the charred frame. The scorched mark was made by that woman, Daphne.

From the moment Damian received the necklace, he had never let it out of his sight. But three years ago, he had to leave it for once.

While on a monster subjugation mission, Damian was severely injured due to his inexperience and the sudden influx of monsters. During the treatment, he was forced to part with the necklace.

And that very day, Damian's room caught fire.

All the testimony and evidence pointed to one person --  Daphne.

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