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T/N: Benjamin feels like the most trustworthy person, but it’s still too early to make a judgment 🤔
E/N: He seems like a capable butler
“What is this?” Sophia picked up what Edmund handed her. It was a note.
“I believe Godmother would know best.”
Sophia, reading the note that Marinda had written just before her suicide, set it down with an indifferent expression.
“This is my first time seeing it. Ah, is this from the maid who committed suicide?”
“Godmother.”
Edmund stood up from his seat, his voice indifferent.
“You once held responsibility for the Duke’s household, so I’m addressing you with respect.”
“...”
“Please leave.”
“Your Excellency.”
“Do nothing, say nothing, and leave before dawn.”
Sophia’s lips quivered. The trembling even reached the hand clutching her shawl as Edmund placed his hand on the door handle.
“It was all for the sake of the Winter’s household.”
An excuse he no longer cared to hear.
“No matter how much I think about it... Madam simply doesn’t suit the Winter family, Your Excellency. I’ll bring a young lady to your liking—noble, refined, and beautiful…”
Edmund turned to look at Sophia.
“When did you change like this?” His words, closer to a murmur, neither filled with pity nor mockery.
“…It was all at the Madam’s request.”
Edmund froze.
The ‘Madam’ Sophia referred to was not his wife Daphne. She meant Edmund’s biological mother, the former Duchess.
“One of the Madam’s wishes was for you to marry a woman from a good family. She loved you so dearly, Your Excellency. You believe me, don’t you?”
Love. What a beautifully wrapped, dreadful word.
“All for Your Excellency…!”
Edmund ignored her and shut the door. Right outside, Johann was waiting.
“Help the Grand Mistress pack her things.”
“I’ll take full responsibility for her care.”
As Johann opened the door, a noisy clamor spilled out through the gap. Edmund left it to Johann and walked down the empty corridor.
“She loved you so dearly, Your Excellency.”
Edmund furrowed his brow. The place he was heading to was Daphne’s room.
Entering the quiet space, he felt a sense of relief. Approaching the bed, he reached out a hand while watching Daphne in the faint moonlight. She stirred. Her eyes slowly opened.
“…Edmund?”
Her voice was hoarse as she called out to him. Startled, Edmund pulled back his hand. Still half-asleep, Daphne blinked slowly, her expression hazy. Gradually, her blinks became fewer, and her eyes closed again.
Edmund silently watched her before leaving the room at dawn.
* * *
“They say the maid Madam brought in committed suicide.”
“…Marinda?” Damian recalled the name upon hearing Vent’s words.
“Yes, that maid.”
“Why?”
“They don’t know the exact reason, but she left a note before she took her life.”
A perfectly healthy person had committed suicide overnight. To make matters worse, early that morning, Sophia’s illness had suddenly worsened, prompting her to be rushed to the southern estate.
With so many events occurring in just one night, the mansion was in turmoil. However the young master’s day carried on as usual.
“ Marquis Sovel sent a letter.”
Damian opened the letter Vent handed him and skimmed through its contents. Stripped of all the flowery language, the gist was an invitation to have tea with the Marquis’ daughter.
“Why the look on your face?”
Damian noticed Vent’s displeased expression.
“Are you really considering marrying the Marquis’ daughter?”
“She’s not a bad match.”
“That’s true.” Damian picked up a quill to reply but, after a moment, put it down without writing anything.
“Why?”
“Have you spoken with His Excellency?”
“There’s no rush. If he had someone else in mind, he would’ve hinted at it already.”
“That’s also true.”
After finishing the letter, Damian set the quill aside.
“By the way, did you complete the task I assigned you yesterday?”
“Ah, here it is.”
Vent handed him a stack of documents.
“Why did you ask me to investigate Baron Graun, though?”
Baron Graun was the subject of Vent’s investigation this time. This included from his personal background to any potential weaknesses.
“For no particular reason…”
“I think it’s a miracle she’s lasted this long. Do you remember the bet? The longest anyone predicted was two years, but she’s held on for five. Maybe she’s just… skilled in certain night activities.”
“I had some things to take care of.” Quick-witted, Vent assumed Baron Graun had done something seriously wrong and decided not to probe further.
“Shall we head to your next lesson?”
As they left the office for Damian’s successor training, the scent of herbs drifted faintly in the air.
“…A physician?”
Was there a doctor in the mansion?
Since both Edmund and Damian had rarely ever been ill, the mansion didn’t employ a resident physician. The herbal scent in the air was highly unusual.
“Where are you going, Young Master?”
Damian moved toward the increasingly strong smell of herbs. With each step, his heart pounded harder, a growing sense of unease flooding him. His instincts were right. The scent of herbs was coming from Daphne’s room. Voices could be heard through the slightly ajar door.
It was Baroness Nuvelle, the physician, speaking with Daphne.
“Madam, is there any discomfort?”
“I’m fine.”
“Fortunately, the poison was in a small dose, so the aftereffects should be minimal.”
Poison?
Damian’s heart plummeted.
* * *
“Young Master.”
“...”
“Young Master?”
It was only after the second call that Damian lifted his head. The man looking at him with concern was Baron Nuvelle, who was in charge of his successor training.
“That’s it for today’s lesson.”
“Oh…”
Baron Nuvelle knew Damian had been distracted the entire lesson. He didn’t stop him, though, because of Damian’s extraordinary ability to take notes subconsciously and retain all the material. Whatever question Baron Nuvelle posed, Damian answered flawlessly.
At times, Baron Nuvelle felt like he was looking at a younger version of Edmund.
“I have a question.” Damian stopped just before leaving the room. “What happened to my mother?”
Baron Nuvelle hesitated for a moment. Edmund hadn’t told him anything specific, but as Damian was the heir, he had a right to know.
“She had a mild hemorrhage from ingesting food that didn’t agree with her. Her life is not in danger.”
“…I see.” Damian nodded calmly and left the room. Placing his hand over his chest, he felt his heart beating faster than usual.
What is wrong with me?
“Am I… worried about her?”
Worried about that woman?
Damian clenched his fist, tightening his grip around his shirt. He could feel the weight of the pendant around his neck. It was as if it whispered, reminding him who exactly he was worried about. He tightly closed his eyes before opening them again, feeling slightly relieved.
* * *
“You’ve made significant progress.”
As Edmund buttoned his shirt, Benjamin tidied up the empty bottles and cloth.
“Still, are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor? That wound will leave a scar.”
“I have plenty of scars already.”
Even with just a couple of buttons undone, a long scar was visible across his chest. A new scar on his shoulder wouldn’t make much difference.
“And your arm? Are you treating that properly?”
“…Yes.”
Edmund’s response came a beat too late, causing Benjamin to narrow his eyes briefly before standing up.
In truth, a bruise like that was nothing to Edmund. He had an almost monstrous healing ability. The wound on his shoulder, despite being only a few days old, was healing quickly.
“By the way, Madam has woken up.”
For a brief moment, Edmund’s hand, which was holding a stack of documents, paused. But before Benjamin could notice, it resumed moving.
“Aren’t you going to see her?”
“...”
“Your Excellency, Madam is carrying your child. She even coughed up blood; she must have been terrified.”
“I’ll handle it.” As usual, Edmund’s cold response left Benjamin swallowing a sigh.
“I’ll take my leave, then. You’ll be fully recovered in just a few more days, so please avoid overexerting yourself.”
Without expecting a response, Benjamin turned and left.
Edmund glanced at his right arm. He rolled up his sleeve. Aside from a few old scars, his arm was unmarked. He had deflected the blade that came at him, yet there wasn’t even a scratch left behind.
Knock, knock.
A soft knock sounded.
“Come in.”
He expected one of his subordinates, but the person who entered was entirely unexpected.
“Daphne?”
Daphne, pale and frail-looking, entered the room, and Edmund blinked in surprise.
“I have something to tell you.”
She handed him a piece of paper. It was a list of names from several noble households.
“What is this?”
“These are families with daughters around Damian’s age.”
Edmund raised his head to look at her.
“I thought it would be better to secure Damian’s position by marrying him into a loyal vassal family, rather than bringing in an outside power.”
“…You intend to arrange an engagement for Damian?”
“Yes.”
“He’s still young.”
“There are plenty who marry at this age.” Daphne pulled her shawl tighter around her. She was still weak, her breathing uneven. After taking a moment to steady herself, she continued.
“A political marriage would be more beneficial than a contract one.”
Edmund glanced at the names on the list. How she had learned of them, he didn’t know, but they were all families with daughters around Damian’s age.
“Choose one yourself.”
“…Daphne.”
Daphne, who had been about to turn away, suddenly stopped as wisps of smoke rose from Edmund’s hand, and ashes scattered across the desk.
It was the paper. She blinked blankly.
“What are you doing?”
“I have no intention of arranging Damian’s engagement right now.”