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T/N: Many things are going on in this novel, for real
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Chapter 89
“Vent.”
“Yes?”
“…”
“Young Lord?”
“…”
“Young Lord, please say something.”
Vent narrowed his eyes at Damian, who had called him only to fall silent again. Lately, this had become a pattern. Damian would call his name, and when Vent responded, he would lapse into thought and say nothing more.
“Ahem! Cough!”
Vent deliberately cleared his throat, loud enough to snap Damian out of his thoughts. As if suddenly realizing where he was, Damian blinked and turned his gaze to the papers in front of him.
“Young Lord, is something the matter?”
“…It’s nothing.”
Damian shook his head, but Vent remained skeptical. He would have preferred to feign ignorance and move on, but after three straight days of this strange behavior, his curiosity got the better of him.
“Please, just tell me. You know I won’t repeat it to anyone.”
Lowering his voice, Vent coaxed gently.
Damian hesitated. After brooding over it for three days with no clear answers, he was beginning to feel suffocated himself. Still, this was not something he could easily confide in another. So he shook his head again.
“Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing going on.”
Vent pouted and resumed organizing the paperwork. It was quite some time before Damian finally spoke again.
“Say….”
“Yes?”
“In this world, are black hair and gray eyes truly traits that only appear in direct descendants of House Winter?”
“Excuse me?”
“It just crossed my mind, that’s all. Haven’t you ever wondered?”
“Uh…”
Vent rolled his eyes, thinking. Now that it was mentioned, yes.
Black hair and gray eyes were known to be unique to the direct bloodline of House Winter, but perhaps somewhere on the continent, there could be one other person with the same features.
“Well… I suppose it’s possible. One person, maybe? But I’ve never heard of anyone.”
While neither black hair nor gray eyes were common, there had been incidents where someone with gray eyes dyed their hair black and falsely claimed to be a member of House Winter’s direct line.
“I see…”
Damian mulled over Vent’s offhand comment.
“Then…”
What were the odds of two direct descendants being born into House Winter?
“What?”
Startled by Vent’s response, Damian jerked his head up.
“…Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes. There have been many who claimed to be of the bloodline, but not a single one has ever turned out to be genuine.”
If someone from another family were to claim ties to House Winter, numerous steps would be required for verification. But for House Winter, only two things needed to be confirmed: Hair color and eye color.
That’s how rare the combination of black hair and gray eyes was. For centuries, it had been acknowledged as an exclusive trait of House Winter, solidifying its status as their defining mark.
“Ah.”
A small exclamation escaped Vent as something occurred to him.
“Come to think of it, a few months ago, while researching your birth mother, I heard something, though it’s surely nonsense… that His Excellency might have a sibling.”
“What?”
Damian frowned at the utterly unfamiliar statement.
“Tell me everything.”
“I only heard bits and pieces, so I’m not entirely sure. The former Duke had His Excellency quite late in life, right? Apparently, in his impatience, he brought back a child he had fathered outside the estate… and then His Excellency was born… or something like that.”
Vent began rambling, clearly aware of how absurd it sounded.
“But really, everyone knows how obsessed the late Duke was with bloodlines. It’s probably just some story someone made up. Hahaha…”
As Damian grew serious, Vent nervously tried to laugh it off.
Even after the conversation ended, Damian remained deep in thought. After a short silence, Vent turned around.
“My stomach suddenly hurts. Please forget everything I just said, alright?”
And with that, he quickly backpedaled out of the office and disappeared.
‘…No way.’
Left alone, Damian continued to ponder. Eventually, he shook his head.
He’d heard plenty about the former Duke’s obsession with lineage, so it wasn’t surprising that such rumors existed. Still, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that lingered.
There was more paperwork to go through, so Damian stood to call Vent back. But before he could do so, he found himself moving toward the window. Someone was heading outside.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the figure just as the person turned. Damian flinched as his gaze met the Saintess’s.
Follow me.
Her lips moved soundlessly. As if bewitched, Damian left the office and followed the faint trail of footsteps into the swirling snow.
* * *
“It’s been a while, Duke.”
The moment the door opened, Edmund’s brow arched with mild disdain.
“Since when have you started following His Majesty’s commands, Count?”
“Please, call me Uncle.”
The Emperor’s envoy turned out to be none other than Yureit, the older brother of Edmund’s late mother.
Though officially a Count, the Mute family had a long and distinguished lineage, having been successful merchants for generations. Even the Imperial Family had once sought marriage ties with them. After Edmund’s mother passed away, the Mute family had quietly withdrawn from the public eye.
Rumor had it that Yureit had vanished completely, his whereabouts unknown for over twenty years. There was only one reason he had reemerged now.
“We received intelligence that His Majesty is… unwell. Upon seeing him with my own eyes, I can confirm that he is no longer in his right mind.”
“I doubt His Majesty sent you here with kind intentions, Uncle.”
“Surely, you remember how much he once relied on me.”
Yureit had always been gentle and composed. For a brief time, he’d even served as Chancellor, earning the Emperor’s full favor.
But Edmund knew this: the man who ruled now was not the same as the man Yureit had once served. So he did not take the count’s words at face value.
Sensing Edmund’s doubt, Yureit simply shrugged.
“I brought along a few diamond mines as gifts.”
“…Ha.”
The Emperor’s judgment had clearly deteriorated. To be swayed by a few diamond mines and send Yureit as a negotiator?
“It’s the Marquis of Bled, isn’t it?”
“…It is.”
Yureit had assessed the Imperial situation in mere moments.
“Can the damage be contained?”
Edmund shook his head.
“It appears the Temple and black magic are involved. One of my men has already fallen victim to it.”
“Black magic…?”
Yureit’s deeply lined face tightened with worry. This was worse than expected.
“Then… should I return?”
“…To be frank, Uncle, you’re the only one capable of going toe-to-toe with Marquis Bled.”
Sergei had only recently come into the Emperor’s good graces. But Yureit? He had been there during the Emperor’s prime, and his influence had once stretched across the entire palace. He was the only one who could stand as a true counter to Sergei.
“There’s a high chance the Marquis is also connected to the Emperor’s new mistress.”
“I heard that the mistress was once a maid in your household.”
“…I’ve never heard that before.”
Edmund turned to look at Johann. Caught off guard, Johann shook his head and hurriedly left to investigate.
“The mistress’s background appears to be intentionally obscured. Frankly, I suspected you had allied with Marquis Bled to stage a coup.”
Yureit smiled faintly.
“If that were the case, I’d have offered my help much sooner.”
“…Uncle.”
Yureit, unbothered by how dangerous his words sounded, blinked innocently.
“My offer still stands, dear nephew.”
— — —
Yureit hadn’t been entirely absent for twenty years.
After Edmund returned from the battlefield, Yureit had come to visit. Though they hadn’t met often, Yureit had always treated Edmund with warmth, and Edmund held genuine affection for him.
It was then that Yureit asked, [“Have you ever thought about becoming Emperor?”]
Yureit was not the type to joke about such things. Edmund knew he was serious and also knew that merely repeating those words could have Yureit branded a traitor.
Unable to understand his uncle’s true intentions, Edmund had declined, and Yureit had left with a simple nod. That had been their last meeting.
“How is the Duchess? I’ve only seen her from afar and never had the pleasure of a proper introduction.”
Yureit’s mention of Daphne made Edmund pause.
“…Before that, there’s something I must tell you.”
He quickly changed the subject.
“The Saintess is currently staying in this manor.”
“The Saintess…?”
Yureit’s eyes widened. It seemed even he hadn’t been informed of this.
“Yes. I’ll explain in detail tomorrow, after you’ve rested and warmed up.”
“Very well. We still have time, after all.”
“Your Excellency!”
Just then, the door burst open and Benjamin rushed in. Knowing that Edmund was meeting with the negotiator, this breach of decorum was unlike him. Recognizing who was in the room, Benjamin quickly bowed, then leaned in to whisper into Edmund’s ear.
“…What?”
The Saintess had vanished.