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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: A Mother at the Window
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“Lord Violode has been married five times, you said?”
Eric asked.
“Then Imeline's birth mother is...”
“I heard Lady Imeline's mother passed away from childbed fever right after giving birth to her.”
Eric's face tightened.
It meant Imeline couldn't even remember her own mother's face. While not unheard of, it wasn't exactly common either.
Given that Lord Violode had married five times, Imeline must have grown up without forming a lasting bond not only with her birth mother but with any of her stepmothers.
“What about the other women? Why did none of them stay married to Violode for long?”
“It seems they all married Lord Violode for his wealth.”
“That's a subjective judgment. On what grounds?”
“Most of them were caught stealing from him and either handed over to the constables for theft or simply thrown out. A commoner's divorce doesn't require official approval, after all...”
“Then what about Helena?”
*'You'd best not touch my family.'*
Eric looked at Lily.
His red eyes held their usual jaguar-like tension, but his hand was still gripping Imeline's tightly.
Unable to bear the awkwardness of this contradiction, Lily turned her head away as she answered.
“Lady Helena... was likely no different... but in truth, she's, well...”
Lily recalled Helena at the dress shop, her eyes gleaming as she asked about the price of the diamonds on a dress.
“She has a great fondness for wealth. And she's quite a skilled actress.”
Yes. That was true.
Eric remembered Helena at social gatherings, her eyes alight as she tried to build connections with wealthy nobles.
She'd been blatant about her desire to marry her daughter and son off to such people. She was also adept at lying in unfavorable situations and would even feign fainting when cornered.
*'It's a common trick among southern moneylenders when they cook the books.'*
It was likely that a merchant lord dealing in large sums of money had encountered moneylenders, but would he really have taught his daughter how they falsify ledgers?
The constable had said that most of the merchant lord's fortune disappeared due to theft after his death. Any inheritance Imeline received on top of that would have ended up in Helena's possession when she took Imeline and vanished.
But what if Helena had spent all that money and fallen into debt with moneylenders? What if that debt was how Imeline became so familiar with their practices?
Eric watched as Imeline's brow furrowed slightly.
She'd worn that expression the entire time. As if she were having a nightmare.
Since fainting, she had occasionally let out a curse, or muttered words like "Mama," "Philip," or "Help me."
Why on earth did this woman care so deeply for her family? A family that had likely coveted her fortune and shown no signs of being wholesome. Why? Why did she always refer to them as "we"?
Eric rubbed his throbbing forehead and released Imeline's hand. At once, her hand began to tremble again.
Just as it had in that room earlier.
*'Hold me...'*
Remembering that hoarse voice, Eric felt a pang spread through his chest.
If a young girl who had grown up without anyone to truly bond with was offered a hand by the skilled actress Helena... could she have refused it?
Could a fourteen-year-old Eric have done so?
*'Mother...!'*
The Eric from back then, who had lost his family overnight and grieved, tormented by the warmth and memories of the departed that lingered in every corner of the house...
He wouldn't have had the luxury of wondering whether the person extending a hand was a villain, a cunning fraud, or a swindler.
*'But even grown-ups need someone to hold their hand sometimes... sometimes...'*
Eric looked at Imeline's hand, now trembling without his to hold. Then, as if he had no other choice, he took it again.
“Are there any of Violode's remaining family in the south? I want to ask some more questions...”
“I heard Violode's cousin is still alive. It seems he inherited the trading company.”
“Look into it.”
Lily nodded.
“What is Duke Baldeck doing?”
Eric recalled his father's eyes as he'd unhesitatingly drawn his sword in the temple.
The Duke's red eyes had held no anger then. It was something closer to contempt. Like a hunter whose hound had disobeyed.
*'Aren't you trying to pick a fight with your father right now?'*
Eric remembered what Imeline had said before she collapsed.
“He returned to the ducal estate for now. It seems he used his authority as head of the family to urgently convene a council of elders. Ostensibly, it's to prepare to welcome a new member into the family, but...”
“In reality, it's a stage to foster animosity toward Imeline.”
By now, the Orleans council of elders, composed of collateral family branches and vassals, must be in an uproar.
With Eric and Imeline splashed across the front page of the newspapers...
*'This isn't how married couples kiss.'*
...a picture of them kissing.
Eric recalled the strange heat that had surged between them in that moment. His mind instantly grew hazy, as if filled with fog.
The reason he hadn't thought about that brief kiss since getting the wedding over with was partly due to being busy with the many events that followed, but also because his thought process would grind to a halt whenever he did.
Even now, Eric felt his mind filling with fog, threatening to shut down, and he quickly snapped himself out of it.
What mattered was that the Orleans council's opposition to their marriage would be severe. The Duke, having convened an emergency meeting, could either quell their backlash or amplify it.
Eric knew what the Duke would do.
The Duke was ruthless to anyone who interfered with his plans.
To the Duke, Imeline was not only an obstacle to his plans but also a stain on the family's honor. He would not let her be.
Besides, the Duke's target was not Helena, but the Mermaids' Tomb.
He had intended to marry Helena to acquire the coastal land currently in her name. Now that he could no longer do that, what was the easiest way for him to make that land his?
If Helena and Philip were to die, the land would fall to Imeline. If Imeline then died as well, it would become Eric's land, and that land, once his...
He would make it his own, either by coaxing Eric or by forging proof of insanity, as he had done with Emily.
Having already suspected this, Eric had placed his 'knights' by Helena's and Philip's sides immediately after the wedding. He called them 'knights' for convenience, but they had not been formally knighted and belonged to neither the Royal Knights nor the ducal guard.
In any case, Eric had assigned 'knights' to Helena and Philip not only because he suspected what Helena had done to Imeline, but also because he judged that the Duke might do something to them.
“When we return to the ducal estate, we should use Imeline's physical condition as an excuse to move to the country house in the south.”
“Her physical condition?”
Eric cleared his throat. Even if it was a sham, he found it incredibly awkward to talk about this.
“The, uh, pregnancy.”
“Ah, that...”
Lily glanced back and forth between Eric and Imeline. Her expression hardened. It was the face she made when she wanted to ask something.
“Could it be...”
Eric clenched his jaw. Lily was, as expected, predictable.
“Is she... actually pregnant?”
“...”
“I thought not.”
Seeing the murderous intent rising in Eric's eyes, Lily quickly backpedaled.
“There's still doubt in your eyes, Sir Lily.”
“...There is not.”
“You may leave.”
Eric said, displeased. Lily, looking rather relieved, quickly opened the door.
Was it the sound of the door opening and closing? Imeline stirred.
“Mmm...”
Her free hand, the one not holding Eric's, naturally slipped inside her clothes.
“...?”
Eric sat frozen as her hand moved unabashedly, delving into her dress.
When her hand finally began to roll the dress up, Eric shot to his feet.
Eric recoiled in disgust. Just then, Imeline mumbled.
“Mmm... mnya... Just told you to take it off...”
Eric, his face beet red, turned away. He felt pathetic for having thought of his mother while looking at Imeline just moments before.
Take what off? What now! As Eric was thinking this, something fell from under the covers with a soft thud.
The muffled sound made Eric turn back toward the bed.
Something lay on the floor beside the bed. It seemed to have fallen from within the blankets.
It looked like an old, worn... diary.
A crumpled note had fallen out of it as well.
...Just get the money and get out.
He could see the writing at the bottom of the note. Eric picked it up.
Just then, a page's voice came from outside.
“I've brought a healer and the court physician, Young Lord. Please open the door. The Princess says if you continue to refuse treatment, she'll lock you both up again...”
Eric, reading the contents of the note, answered absently.
“I'm coming out.”
Just before leaving the room, he glanced back at Imeline.
✵ ✵ ✵
“So he's finally accepting treatment...”
The page informed Ella that Eric was being treated. Ella spoke, looking weary.
“Exactly. It would've been better if he'd just accepted treatment from the start. Making things so troublesome.”
In truth, the entire incident was the result of Ella's own scheme, but the page didn't dare talk back.
Satisfied with the report, Ella dove back into the novel she had been reading.
It was a series called *Saga of a Dangerous Night* by the popular novelist Scarlett. The famous romance novel featuring the glass slipper was part of this series.
The defining feature of Scarlett's series was that every single one, without exception, was risqué.
They featured lovers who affirmed their love in the most bizarre places and in the most bizarre ways.
But the love scenes weren't the only interesting part. The characters, who frankly expressed their desires, were also fascinating.
Still, when all was said and done, it was a pulp erotic novel. The page watched his mistress, engrossed in such a book in her office, with a peculiar expression.
Sensing the page hadn't left after finishing his report, Ella looked up. She frowned and said:
“What is it? Why haven't you left?”
“It's... about the boy locked in the West Tower's cellar.”
“Who?”
Ella tilted her head.
She herself had captured the silver-haired boy just a few hours ago, yet it seemed his existence had long since vanished from her mind.
This was her mistress. Uninterested in anything besides becoming queen...
The page said.
“The boy in the rabbit fur you caught this morning.”
“Ah, the one with the round eyes who hopped around like a rabbit?”
I've thrown so many rascals in the West Tower, I can't keep track.
Ella muttered, closing the book.
She fiddled with the name 'Scarlett' emblazoned in gold foil on the velvet cover.
“What about him?”
“He hasn't eaten anything since morning and has fainted. Should I summon a physician, just in case?”
Ella spoke, incredulous.
“A physician for a prisoner is excessive. Besides, how can someone faint after starving for only a few hours?”
Ella looked uncomprehending. When she'd been in a carriage accident in the north, she had gone three days with nothing to eat or drink but snow.
*'In times like these, shouldn't it be, "I'll cut off my own thigh for you, Princess"?'*
Eric had been with her then.
*'I can't say if my thigh would be very tasty.'*
*'I'll be the judge of that. Hand it over.'*
*'Are you serious?'*
*'...No.'*
She'd faltered at the look in his eyes, as if he might actually cut off his own flesh. That stubborn fool...
Anyway.
If a delicate person like me could survive for days while starving, how could someone from the harsh north faint after just a few hours?
Looking baffled, Ella rose from her seat.
“Fine. I'll go see him myself.”
“But we still don't have an interpreter...”
There was no interpreter, but...
Ella recalled the boy's trembling black eyes.
Somehow, she felt that if she looked into those rabbit-like eyes, she would understand. She'd find out why that damned spy had snuck into the palace.
“...And if I can't figure it out, I'll just kill him.”
With that, Ella left her office.
✵ ✵ ✵
I sat up, pressing a hand to my throbbing forehead.
Looking around, I found myself in a lavish bedroom. It seemed to be dawn.
This time, I went straight to the door to see if it would open.
*'It's opening...'*
Ah, that damned princess. I fainted twice because of her.
*'Hold me...'*
And said that nonsense.
“Aaaargh!”
I screamed, tearing at my hair. This was even more mortifying than the wedding.
Before I passed out, I'd hoped I wouldn't remember anything when I woke up, but my memory is crystal clear.
I sank to the floor, miserable.
“How... how...”
How am I supposed to face Young Lord Eric... He's my husband now. I'm stuck seeing him every day...
*'Maybe it's not too late. Should I just jump?'*
As I had that thought and impulsively opened the window, a set of long, slender fingers appeared on the windowsill.
“...!”
I stumbled back in surprise. A pair of brown eyes looked up at me, urging.
“Hey! What are you doing? My arms are about to give out!”
Helena.
The person dangling from the window of the princess's palace was none other than my mother.
