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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: A Mischievous Stray Cat
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Why would the Duke interfere with the princess's business—one he was undertaking with his own son, no less?
If word of this got out, it would surely damage his reputation.
Margaret found the reason in this recent marriage.
“When I learned the Duke had paid a visit and pressed the Temple for answers, they told me a different story. They claimed there was an irregularity in the marriage of Young Lord Eric and his wife, that they couldn't recognize the union because the vow of premarital chastity had been broken. Of course, with the recent scandal of a diocesan priest from the capital hiding his own son, it's an utterly absurd reason, but what can you do? The more conservative nobles still support the Temple's stance.”
The diocesan priest who had hidden his son was Andrea. When Eric had exposed his sins one by one, he had tried to harm Imeline rather than admit his wrongdoing.
Enraged, Eric had personally captured Andrea and handed him over to the Holy Knights.
The Central Temple and the Holy Knights had no choice but to acknowledge Andrea's corruption. Not only was he excommunicated, but all his privileges were revoked, and his son was sent to prison.
At the very least, the Central Temple's strong response gave them a justification. The Temple had cast out an immoral priest, and Eric Orleans had…
With the help of a scoundrel priest named Andrea, he had completely trampled upon a sacred marriage approved by the Temple—the one between Baldeck and Helena.
“This is the moment the strongest lifeline on the continent proves to be not so strong after all. Isn't it?”
Margaret smiled bitterly.
Eric picked up the coffee cup a servant had brought. The coffee tasted exceptionally bitter.
He had barely managed to stop the Duke's wedding, only for another problem to erupt.
With the Temple openly displaying its displeasure toward Eric, it was only a matter of time before the many nobles who supported it would express their animosity toward Imeline.
What worried Eric most was the negative impact their reputation would have on the princess. Because the princess had approved their marriage, Eric and Imeline were being called ‘Ella's darlings.’
“I heard Prince Robert has even departed for a campaign in the North, correct?”
As Eric was lost in thought, Margaret brought up another topic.
Word of Prince Robert had already reached Margaret's ears. It would have been stranger if it hadn't, given the sudden and grand departure ceremony…
“It was clearly a military expedition designed to lavish him with achievements, and the princess couldn't stop it. I wonder how the line of succession will change when the prince returns a triumphant general… He's set to return around the time of next year's Council. At this year’s session, absurd claims will be made, questioning the logic of placing a woman, who is mentally less mature than a man, on the throne as heir…”
In an age where even commoners were being approved for university education, the notion that men and women had different levels of mental maturity was, in Eric’s honest opinion, preposterous.
But it was true that such talk was proposed as a formal agenda item at the start of every Council session before being dismissed.
The ridiculous argument that women should be barred from succession altogether.
Did that mean they should hand the throne over to someone like Robert, who embezzled from the national treasury simply because he was a man? To think that this was the best that nobles, who had enjoyed and learned so much, could come up with.
Eric’s head began to ache.
Margaret told Eric that if they couldn't re-sign the mana stone mine contract immediately, the launch of their new business would be delayed.
It wasn't just a matter of the launch date being pushed back and the additional costs incurred.
Margaret's eyes were filled with distrust for the princess. It was the look of someone who feared they had grabbed onto a rotten lifeline.
She couldn't say such things to the princess directly, so she had summoned Eric instead.
“With the Temple taking this stance, it will be difficult to sign a contract with any mana stone mine in the East for the time being. I'm also planning to postpone the publication of my autobiography.”
“She will undoubtedly compensate you for any losses. You know the princess is…”
Margaret shook her head as if she didn't want to hear any more.
“I am a businesswoman. Like me, many nobles of this era are businesspeople. Businesspeople don't invest in values; they invest in profits. I fear that if I continue to align with the princess, I will fall out of favor with the prince.”
“You need not fear. The issue with the mana stone mine arose because of me, not the princess.”
As Eric continued in a sincere voice, Margaret stared intently into his red eyes.
“I will resolve this without fail. Just give me a little time, Madam.”
Seeing the desperation in Eric's red eyes, Margaret took a magnifying glass from her bosom.
She looked at Eric through it, as if observing him.
“…?”
Eric furrowed his brow.
“Oh, my. Forgive me. But that expression just now… it would be wonderful to capture it in a photograph. It would be lovely to develop one and hang it in my room…”
Margaret smiled, her eyes gleaming with avarice. Eric saw a servant behind her take out a camera. Eric cleared his throat.
Margaret Beaufort was a rather eccentric businesswoman.
At her sixtieth birthday party, she'd asked for the handkerchief Eric had been using to commemorate their contract…
Claiming it would be an inspiration for her business…
And now, she was demanding a photograph in exchange for giving him time.
With a disgruntled look, Eric beckoned the servant over. The servant walked toward him.
“Madam, about the time…”
“Oh, of course. I’ll give you time. Will a month be enough?”
“…A little more…”
*Flash!*
The flash went off in front of Eric's eyes, leaving a bright afterimage.
Margaret watched with interest as Eric became a subject before her.
*Flash!*
The flash went off again.
Eric scowled, feeling as if he were on display.
“Mm. That expression just now. The look of shame is simply delightful. I'll give you a month and a half.”
*Why would she find a shamed expression delightful…?*
Eric looked at Margaret, who was speaking utter nonsense. His eyes stung from the afterimage of the light.
“By the way, was there a reason you went to such lengths to marry? Of course, that red-haired young lady was quite bold and charming. I saw her speaking with Lady Vivian at the last party.”
Speaking?
Eric recalled the scene where Imeline had all but threatened Vivian and marveled at the political word choice of high society's godmother.
“Well, that’s…”
Eric hesitated.
He should have said, *Because I love her*…
But the words simply wouldn't leave his lips.
*'Don't you remember signing the marriage certificate? It says we are to be faithful to one another.'*
*'It also says we are to love each other. Do you love me?'*
Eric thought of Imeline, who had asked him if he loved her with such a clear expression.
Love.
Those words were… simply impossible…
With that thought, Eric had no choice but to tone down his statement slightly.
“Because I like her.”
*Like.*
After uttering the toned-down statement, Eric felt an inexplicable chill.
Was it because he had softened his words?
*I like her.*
The words didn't feel like a lie.
*Why isn't 'liking' her a lie? It is a lie. Because I do not like that strange woman.*
Eric tried to pull himself together, but then another thought occurred to him.
Just liking someone…
Couldn't one feel that they liked a stray cat they met on the street? One that stole fish from the fishmonger and nearly got beaten with a stick for ruining a household's laundry…
A mischievous stray cat.
Everyone else called it a troublemaker, but if you watched it closely, it had many surprisingly cute qualities.
Thinking of Imeline as such a cat brought a faint smile to his lips. It was a fitting analogy.
And if she was like that stray cat, then liking her wasn't so strange.
*Flash!*
At that moment, the flash went off.
This time, Margaret was holding the shutter switch herself.
Eric, who thought the photoshoot was over, frowned at her, and she shrugged.
“That smile just now. I liked it very much. A man in love. I think it will give me great inspiration.”
*What inspiration now…?*
And why had the conversation circled back to love?
Eric's face crumpled.
✵ ✵ ✵
When Eric returned to the mansion, the butler greeted him with an exhausted face.
The butler, who had been hired when Eric was three, had looked after this mansion for twenty-one years.
In those twenty-one years, living by the creed that he was ‘the face of the mansion,’ the butler had never once greeted Eric with a haggard expression.
Until today…
Eric was taken aback when he saw the deep shadows under the butler's eyes that hadn't been there this morning.
“…?”
“Welcome back…”
“Is something wrong…?”
At Eric’s question, the butler forced an awkward smile.
“…The… the young madam…”
The butler looked as if he was about to cry.
Not wanting to poke at that fragile expression, Eric didn't press further. But as he handed his coat to the butler, he found himself asking after Imeline.
“Was the young madam well?”
As if a dam had burst, the butler began to pour out his story.
“…I can tolerate her slacking off! In fact, I was planning to secretly help her if she just showed a few hours of effort. But…!”
Sensing what was coming next, Eric pressed his temples.
At a time when they needed to do whatever it took to improve her reputation in high society… it seemed her reputation within the household was also in shambles.
The butler's story, in short, was that Imeline, while learning cursive, had decided it would take too long, so she had bribed one of the maids to secretly write the replies for her while she was stuffing her face in the dining hall.
“I… I distinctly told her that, as a rule, replies are to be written by the mistress of a noble house…!”
As if that woman would ever abide by something like rules.
If asked to name the person furthest from words like propriety, honesty, and principle, Eric was prepared to pick Imeline without a second's hesitation.
And the man standing before him now, with an indignant expression, was the man who best embodied those very words.
*‘Rules are rules, after all.’*
Eric recalled the phrase the butler used to repeat like a mantra whenever he taught the young Eric what he should and should not do.
The butler had been a more significant influence on the young Eric than his always-busy, authoritarian father, or his frail mother who had often been ill even before her madness began.
Eric whispered softly to the butler.
“…Couldn't you just… help her from the start…?”
“Pardon?”
The butler looked at his young master as if he couldn't believe the words that had just come out of his old-fashioned, rule-abiding mouth.
It wasn't just disbelief; it was a look that screamed, *‘This is not how I raised you, Young Master…!’*
Eric found it hard to look at the butler's rapidly saddening eyes and averted his gaze.
“Y-Young Master…”
*What did I just say…?*
