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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: A Night of Correspondence
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He gritted his teeth.
“I'll just write them myself.”
“But...!”
His expression screamed, *You have to at least say something to the young madam!*
It seemed the butler still didn't know what kind of person Imeline was.
“Besides, the principle of the matter...!”
Eric said calmly.
“Principles are only broken when someone decides to break them, aren't they? And besides, most of the nobility would prefer a reply from me.”
The butler clamped his mouth shut.
And for good reason—Eric wasn't wrong. A reply from the Young Lord Eric Orleans would be a rare treat for anyone.
There was hardly a household without a woman, and half the women in the capital adored Eric's face.
Like fans fawning over a theater actor, these women would prepare bouquets to present to him whenever he appeared at a social gathering. Some even treasured letters he had sent during his time as a knight commander like family heirlooms.
Even now that he was a married man, thanks to a scandal that had rocked high society—no, perhaps *because* of such a tumultuous marriage—they would be all the more eager to receive a letter from him.
Eric was indifferent to the attention of others, but he was certainly aware of this much. In fact, he'd said it with the intention of using it to his advantage.
This only made the butler sigh, his expression even more disgruntled.
“So, where is Imeline now...?”
“She is in the study. As punishment, I had her begin transcribing the Young Lord's old textbook...”
Eric found himself glaring at the butler for treating Imeline like a child in need of discipline.
“Did you just... glare at me?”
“...? Of course not. You must have imagined it.”
Eric himself didn't think it was possible he'd glared at the butler.
*'A man in love.'*
Having just heard such a heinous accusation, Eric's mind was far from clear.
In any case, the butler wasn't the type to look down on Imeline for being a low-ranking noble or to haze her, as some of the older servants were prone to do.
One look at the dark circles under the butler's eyes was proof enough.
He was genuinely worried about the young madam's transgressions... concerned that her attitude would tarnish the ducal family's dignity... and above all, psychologically shaken by the shock of her resorting to the immoral acts of bribery and ghostwriting.
*'He's in for a lot of surprises.'*
Eric figured the dark circles under the butler's eyes wouldn't be fading anytime soon.
He clicked his tongue and started to walk away, but then stopped. The butler had called out to him.
“Don't write *all* of them for her.”
With that, the butler turned away with a sad, almost pouting expression. For a moment, Eric seriously considered whether he should go and console him, but then shook his head.
Eric opened the study door.
His eyes habitually scanned the room for long, curly red hair. But instead, he saw a small lump hunched over the desk in the center of the study.
It was Imeline, her hair haphazardly tied up, slumped over the desk.
*'If the butler saw this, he'd have a fit.'*
The lady of the ducal manor, sleeping on a desk. It was absolutely unheard of.
And to think she'd just been scolded and given a punishment... For someone in her position, she seemed awfully relaxed.
Eric sighed and walked toward the desk.
He was about to shake her awake when he stopped, noticing her face, slightly squashed against the desk.
*'Under her nose... there's something strange...'*
He couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. And for good reason—her face below her nose was smeared with black ink, as were her hands and sleeves.
Moreover, the paper she had been writing on was filled with messy cursive.
Damned butler... Idiot... Moron... Sea anemone...
...it read.
Eric let out a dry laugh and smoothly picked up the paper.
“Ah... Imeline...”
Eric whispered softly.
“I find you so amusing.”
Eric grunted as he sat down beside her.
“If only other people knew how entertaining you are...”
he muttered.
He'd never paid much attention to who received how many invitations during the social season, or who was rumored to be with whom, but things would have to be different from now on.
To secure the mana stone contract and properly maintain this fraudulent marriage, their reputation in high society would be crucial.
Eric looked at the large pile of wedding congratulation letters and rolled up his sleeves.
Just as his thick forearm, better suited for a sword than a pen, reached for one of the letters...
Beneath the words *Damned butler...* was another line of text.
Eric gently pulled out the notebook pinned under Imeline's hand.
Damned nobles...
It seemed to be a notebook filled with a stream of consciousness.
Imeline Orleans.
The Duchy.
Eric.
Eric.
Eric Orleans.
Eric stared intently at his own name, written in a crooked script that likely held no special meaning.
Eric Orleans.
Eric traced the letters with his finger.
*'It means you, too, doubt whether Imeline is a woman to be trusted. Is that not so?'*
Eric recalled the Duke's words. He hadn't been wrong.
Imeline is not a trustworthy woman.
His instincts, his senses, told him so every day.
But—
A good person.
This woman is a good person.
If only there had been at least one person who believed that—
*If I’d had just one person like this in my life, I wonder if my life wouldn't have turned out completely different.*
This woman must have known it, too.
That she was a good person.
*'Did you really come to lend me money?'*
Eric recalled his visit to Helena's mansion that afternoon.
Helena had looked surprised. Of course, after hearing the amount of Helena's debt, Eric was the one who looked even more surprised.
*'Five hundred thousand gold.'*
*'...How in the world did you amass so much debt...'*
While it wasn't an amount Eric couldn't handle, 500,000 gold was enough for a commoner to live on for their entire life.
*'Ever heard of loan sharks? Once those people get their hooks in you, they'll bleed you dry.'*
Helena shook her head as if the thought was horrifying. She looked at Eric suspiciously and said,
*'The thing I've feared most since then is interest. Interest! And yet you're offering to lend it to me...'*
Helena showed not a hint of gratitude for the money Eric was offering.
*'You're not even just giving it to me... What's with lending it...? You're so stingy.'*
*'I can hear you.'*
*'I'm talking to myself—just talking to myself.'*
The moment he heard that, an image of another woman instantly overlapped with Helena's.
Eric simply couldn't believe that the mother and daughter shared not a single drop of blood.
*'Is this what they mean by being bound by soul?'*
*'It seems you've been taking on new debt to pay off old debt, causing your liabilities to snowball.'*
*'So doesn't that make it all the more reason to give money to this poor family of three? Should I just go ahead and report the contents of your mother's diary to the newspapers?'*
*'If you did that, your family of three would disappear at my father's hands without a trace.'*
Come to think of it, perhaps Helena had taken the diary to Imeline specifically with that in mind. Just as Eric was entertaining this reasonable suspicion,
Helena licked her lips and said,
*'There's no point in lending it. Where would we get that kind of money to pay you back?'*
*'I will give you a generous repayment period, with unlimited extensions. I won't charge interest, either. In exchange...'*
*'There's always a strange catch with good deals. In exchange for what?'*
Eric Orleans.
Eric folded the note with his name on it and tucked it inside his coat. He reached for Imeline's shoulder, then paused.
He gave up on the idea of shaking her awake.
Eric lifted her up. Like a small bundle.
Imeline was small and light.
*'In exchange, tell me the secret behind Lord Violode's death. Starting with whether you really set the fire.'*
Eric looked down at the red-haired woman and tried to imagine what she might have looked like around the age of twelve.
She wouldn't have been so wicked back then; probably a little cute. Most young things are cute.
*'Are you going to tell Imeline?'*
*'...No. I will not.'*
Helena hadn't seemed to believe him.
*'I stabbed the merchant lord, and I set the fire...'*
*'A lie.'*
*'...What?'*
*'It's obvious when you're telling the truth, Madam. You are not telling the truth right now.'*
*'Hey...!'*
*'Here is two hundred fifty thousand gold for now. Come find me when you find the courage to tell the truth. I'll be waiting.'*
Eric recalled the expression on Helena's face when he'd said that.
*'They're so alike...'*
That cornered expression.
The look in their eyes when they're afraid of losing something precious.
And that strange, frustrating inability to ever ask for help.
Eric looked down at Imeline.
✵ ✵ ✵
I feel like I haven't slept at all.
That was my first thought upon waking.
Besides, I'm sure I fell asleep in the study...
I sat up, clutching my stiff shoulders and wrists, and looked at the empty bed. It seemed I had slept in my day clothes without changing into my nightgown.
*'...Where's Eric?'*
I glanced at the empty space beside me. I'd been wondering what to do about our sleeping arrangements, since we hadn't exactly settled the matter...
*'He must have just slept somewhere else.'*
I couldn't be bothered to think too deeply about it and flopped back down.
I'd only been writing for about two and a half hours, but staring at paper and letters for the first time in a while had left me exhausted.
Damned butler... Damned Nina...
Nina had ratted me out for trying to bribe her, and I'd ended up getting an earful from the butler.
*'And here I thought he was being nice, calling me "Young Madam, Young Madam"...'*
I had lost all faith in the butler and Nina.
In that state, I felt thirsty and pulled the bell cord, and Nina came running.
I watched Nina as she brought me a glass of water with a bright smile.
“...Is there a problem?”
“No. It's not a problem, but...”
Lily, Nina, and now even the butler. They all seem like they'd be easy to bribe, but they're surprisingly difficult.
*'I need to find their weaknesses...'*
I swallowed the water, deep in thought.
Before I could even ask Lily for help, she'd claimed to be busy and rushed off to the training grounds. I sighed, handed the empty glass to Nina, and asked,
“Where's my darling?”
At the word 'darling,' Nina looked like she was about to vomit for a moment before managing to school her expression and turn away.
What? We're newlyweds, aren't we?
“Ah... After finishing all the replies to the noble families, he went to participate in the knights' training...”
“Replies?!”
At her words, I shot up from the bed.
I didn't have to look far; a huge stack of letters sat in a corner of the bedroom.
On top of them was a note from Eric.
*Don't hate the butler too much. Make sure to deliver Madam Beaufort's letter in person.*
I put down the note and grinned brightly at the beautifully wax-sealed letters. Feeling as if the letters were treasures of gold and silver, I stretched my arms wide and exclaimed,
“Look at this... He was going to write them all anyway!”
Seeing my expression, Nina turned her head and snickered.
What are you laughing at...?
I pouted and tried to fix my expression. Nina quickly wiped the smile from her face and said,
“He barely slept a wink writing all of those.”
“Huh?”
My eyes went wide. There were a lot of replies, sure, but enough to keep him up all night?
I tilted my head.
*'I guess... the young master of the duchy isn't all that special, is he?'*
