-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: A Father's Interference
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The butler, seemingly unwilling to believe a word I said anymore, simply stated his business.
“First, let's practice the cursive alphabet. The Young Master's textbook from when he was five should still be here...”
Five years old?
I secretly glared at the butler for judging my abilities to be at such a pathetic level.
I couldn't glare at him directly.
‘The butler has been subtly intimidating me for a while now...’
But as soon as I saw the textbook the butler brought, my mouth fell shut.
The textbook was filled with everything from ancient languages I couldn't possibly know to the languages of high society. And it was all in Eric's handwriting.
These damned nobles! Why don't they just go ahead and create a whole new language only they can understand!
“Now, try to copy this.”
“Uh... I think my level is more like a three-year-old's...”
“Just write.”
“Yes, sir.”
✵ ✵ ✵
Eric boarded the carriage with the Duke.
Eric couldn't bring himself to look his father directly in the eye as the man simply stared at him in silence. It wasn't because he was scared or angry.
‘I can't let him know what I know and what I don't.’
It was a strategic choice.
Just then, the Duke gently took the back of Eric's hand.
“...!”
Eric lifted his head.
A pair of red eyes, identical to his own, were gazing at him quietly.
‘The monster’ enjoys the hunt.
Eric recalled the words written in his mother's diary. He clenched his fists tightly.
“Are you still upset about what happened at the temple?”
the Duke asked softly, examining the wound on the back of Eric's hand.
It especially likes to watch things like a wounded wild boar flee as its breath grows ragged.
Eric felt goosebumps crawl all over his skin at his father's touch.
How.
How had it come to this?
Eric finally managed to speak.
“No. I should have... I should have told you first...”
Eric avoided the Duke's gaze.
The Duke shook his head.
“No, no. It's understandable that you'd be upset. But listen. My reasons for trying to stop you at the temple weren't simply to protect my own marriage.”
“Then...?”
Eric waited for the Duke's prepared words, maintaining his composure as best he could.
“The truth is, I heard something terrible about Imeline. That she killed her own biological father...”
The Duke's red eyes flashed.
“Have you ever heard of Lord Violode, the one called Bluebeard?”
Eric hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer. The Duke seized the opportunity to lift Eric's chin.
Their eyes met.
The Duke spoke.
“So you have heard of him. The fact that you've even heard about what happened back then means...”
The Duke smiled faintly.
“It means you also doubt whether Imeline is a woman who can be trusted. Isn't that so?”
✵ ✵ ✵
“...Then, Mr. Holland, I'll trust you on that part.”
Eric said as he left Holland's house on Farrit Street.
As Eric emerged, the driver of the carriage he had arranged opened the door. He said to the driver.
“To Margaret's Department Store.”
As he got back into the carriage, he felt a throbbing in his head.
Baldeck had dropped Eric off in front of Holland's house and then left for the west on business. Before he left, he had shared the story about Violode.
‘It means you also doubt whether Imeline is a woman who can be trusted.’
The Duke had rambled on, trying to sow discord between Eric and Imeline, or perhaps to plant a seed of doubt in Eric's mind.
‘It turns out Violode kept Imeline locked up and raised her for a very long time. Like a pig in a pen. When I first heard that, I just thought the poor child was pitiful.’
The Duke put on a genuinely sad expression. Just like he had when Emily Orleans's body was returned from the forest.
‘But when I heard that screams were heard from Violode's office before the fire, and that there was a prison-like facility in that same office for locking up the child...’
And just like when he had told Eric with those same sad eyes, ‘Your mother went mad. The insanity took her.’
‘I realized. Perhaps Violode had a reason for locking up his own daughter?’
An unconcealable contempt flashed in the Duke's eyes.
A reason? What reason in this world could possibly justify locking up a child?
‘Hold me...’
Eric remembered Imeline trembling in his arms. Imeline, who hated stuffy, confined spaces.
Eric resisted the urge to spit right in the Duke's face.
“Damn it...”
Eric cursed, something he rarely did. He unconsciously slammed his fist against the carriage wall with a loud thud.
He recalled his father's face, triumphant, as he told Eric to ‘think carefully.’
It was a nauseating face.
But more importantly, his father might even try to implicate Imeline in Violode's death.
Just then, the carriage stopped in front of Margaret's Department Store.
The carriage door opened.
Eric, thinking of his likely disheveled appearance, straightened his clothes. He had briefly lost his composure in his anger.
He stepped out of the carriage with a calm expression.
The department store's splendid entrance greeted him. An employee standing at the entrance bowed deeply to him.
“Welcome, Young Lord.”
At the employee's words, people nearby turned to look at Eric. Feeling the gazes upon him, Eric gave a cursory reply and entered the department store.
But once inside, even more eyes turned to him. In particular, the noblewomen and young ladies coming out of the first-floor jewelry shop whispered loud enough for him to hear.
“It's the Young Lord, Eric Orleans.”
“Did you see the newspaper article? I thought he had no interest in women!”
“I heard it's a sham marriage to hide his preference for men!”
“If he was going to have a sham marriage, he should have done it with me! I'd be happy just to be hung on the wall like a picture frame.”
“I'd hang on the bathroom wall!”
“I'd take the dressing room wall!”
‘Why... do they want to be hung on a wall in the first place?’
Eric thought, overhearing a few conversations he'd rather not have. In the meantime, several people who were acquainted with him rushed over to greet him.
“Congratulations on your marriage...!”
Most greetings started that way.
“I cried my eyes out when I heard the news.”
And ended with a peculiar remark.
Eric grew tired of greeting noblewomen and young ladies whose faces he could barely recall, and eventually quickened his pace.
But since "a little faster" by Eric's standards was incredibly fast, the noblewomen and young ladies could only stare at the afterimage of Eric disappearing like the wind toward the top floor of Margaret's Department Store, without a chance to greet him.
Eric, considering this a fortunate turn of events, paused on the stairs leading to the fourth floor. A noblewoman sitting at an outdoor table of the fourth-floor coffee house was watching him through a pair of opera glasses.
It was clear she had been tracking his movements from the first floor.
Like a hunter watching its prey. Like a fan watching an actor on stage.
When she realized Eric was looking at her, she slowly lowered the opera glasses and waved a gloved hand.
Margaret Beaufort.
The owner of this department store.
Only then did Eric Orleans recall that Madam Margaret Beaufort had been quite fond of his face.
Margaret grinned and said.
“Eric. Your face is perfect today, as always. I feel as if I've encountered a fawn that has wandered into my coffee house for a drink.”
Fawn.
Eric flinched slightly at the word.
Partly because Margaret Beaufort, who called him a fawn, was smiling like a wicked hunter about to capture said fawn.
‘A delicate fawn of a man is your ideal type!’
And partly because Helena's words to Imeline came to mind.
Maybe it was a good thing I hid the fact that I'm an aura swordsman from Imeline...
Eric naturally had this thought before abruptly shaking his head.
‘What am I thinking...?’
✵ ✵ ✵
”It's such a shame you're a married man now. Though, I was more... vigorous... after I got married myself.”
Vigorous... in what way?
Eric suppressed the urge to ask and offered a polite greeting instead.
“I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, Madam.”
After speaking, Eric looked around.
Soon, an employee approached and asked Eric what he would like to drink.
“What can I get for you?”
Margaret handed the employee an ashtray piled high with ash.
“Bring him a black coffee, nothing in it.”
“And a cigar...”
“He doesn't need one.”
The coffee house was empty, and two of Margaret's employees were standing guard at the entrance, turning away customers.
The coffee house was enormous, taking up half of the fourth floor, and she had cleared the entire place.
Why?
Eric had already been puzzled when he received a message from Margaret.
It was true that Eric had acted as an intermediary for the new business venture between the Princess and Margaret, but in truth, Eric wasn't particularly skilled in business.
The reason Eric had become involved was that Margaret, wanting to appear politically neutral, had chosen him as a go-between to avoid giving the impression that she was siding with Princess Ella. The actual business talks were likely being conducted separately with the Princess.
So why had she suddenly summoned him? In any case, it wasn't a good sign.
Margaret spoke in a low voice.
“Did you have a falling out with your father? Because of this marriage.”
“...Pardon?”
Why bring up his father all of a sudden...?
“As I understand it, your father approved of your marriage...”
“He did, Madam.”
“Then why did the Duke pressure the eastern territories to prevent our automobile factory from securing a contract with the eastern mana stone mines?”
Eric's face hardened.
The automobile factory.
The new business Margaret planned to announce in her upcoming autobiography was automobiles.
Horseless carriages had briefly been in vogue in other countries, but only for a short while. They used steam engines, which were highly inefficient.
They had to be stopped constantly to be supplied with coal, were noisy, and offered a poor ride, so many of the continent's nobles who had bought them for show simply stuck them in their garages and never took them out again.
But what Margaret intended to create was different. She wanted an automobile that ran on mana stones. High-level magitech engineers and mages were being worked to the bone day and night to create this very expensive, smooth-riding, and efficient vehicle.
Through this venture, Margaret intended not only to expand the scope of her business, which had until now been limited to fashion, but also to revitalize the distribution industry.
But in truth, when Ella first heard about the magical automobiles, she'd been a bit scornful.
‘She made her fortune on ready-to-wear clothing anyone can buy, and now she wants to appeal to the tastes of the nobility with high-end automobiles? What a pointless endeavor.’
But the reason Ella readily offered Margaret her support was simple.
‘A friendly relationship with Margaret is more important than the success or failure of the business. It would be troublesome if she sided with Robert instead of me. You've heard the stories about that bastard Robert embezzling from the national treasury, haven't you?’
At the time, the Princess was searching for the whereabouts of the national funds the Prince had embezzled. It was because of this that Eric had resigned as captain of the knights and taken on the mission of finding out which nobles were on Robert's side.
In any case.
The real problem with the automobile industry was resources.
Specifically, mana stones.
Creating a horseless carriage required a considerable amount of mana stones, so Margaret had intended to secure an exclusive contract with one of the eastern mana stone mines for its entire output.
The mining rights for the eastern mana stone mines were held by the Central Temple. The contract had been on the verge of being finalized, but...
Margaret had suddenly received a unilateral notice yesterday that the contract was off.
“I looked into it, and it seems Duke Baldeck Orleans paid a visit to the Central Temple last night. Did you know?”
Eric's face hardened.
