Chapter 54
The child in Marchioness Toten's arms looked no more than six years old. One glance revealed his sickly pallor—he was clearly the ill son she'd mentioned. He seemed far worse off than expected. Now I understood why the butler grandfather had said there was no hope.
"Butler! What have you been doing without sending Rider back?"
Marchioness Toten scolded sharply, and the butler grandfather bowed his head as if ashamed.
"Don't scold him. I told him not to stop me."
"Rider…."
She stroked the child's head as carefully as if handling fragile glass.
"Did you come looking for me because I wasn't there?"
"Yes. And with a guest here, I couldn't just lie in bed."
Marchioness Toten, the butler grandfather, and the child's eyes all turned to me. Right, it's all because of me. Got it?
I wanted to hide behind Hena from the awkwardness. But that would spawn another rumor about Evangeline Rohanson shamelessly ducking behind a maid, so I endured it grimly.
"Cough. I'm Rider Toten, my lady."
His voice was so faint he barely had the strength to cough. Seeing him greet me mid-cough deepened my guilt. I should've just told Marchioness Toten to come to Rohanson Mansion!
Marchioness Toten eyed me as if urging a quick reply, so I curtsied too, lifting my dress.
"I'm Evangeline Rohanson. Thank you for greeting me despite your poor health, Viscount Toten."
I tried to greet humbly per Dolliné's lessons, but mother and son stared oddly. What? Where'd I mess up? I practiced so hard!
Marchioness Toten averted her eyes. Shocking. Must've been too cringeworthy to watch. Instead of mocking my poor manners, she pretended not to see—such consideration.
"Satisfied now? Your coughing's bad—let's go back quickly."
"Cough, cough. Yes, Mother. Lady Rohanson, please excuse me as I'm unwell."
After my greeting, Marchioness Toten shooed Rider back to rest now that she'd properly received her guest.
"Yes. Rest well."
Even staggering, the child refused to be carried and walked on his own with support. Marchioness Toten watched his retreating back and quietly asked. Her voice was so soft Rider couldn't hear.
"How old do you think he is?"
Age? Generously, maybe six?
"Around six?"
"Rider's eight. But his illness makes him look much younger."
What a babyface. No wonder he spoke so maturely and fluently. As Marchioness Toten said, his frailty made him seem even smaller.
Only after Rider vanished did Marchioness Toten return to her seat. Her flawless etiquette from moments ago was gone; slumping against the chair, she looked utterly exhausted.
"…Yes. Since you were honest with me, Lady, I'll share my true feelings too. Truthfully, I wanted to see for myself that Lady Rohanson had recovered."
Marchioness Toten finally admitted her real intent.
"I wondered how someone unresponsive to Holy Water could fully recover."
She glanced sideways. Following her gaze, I spotted the sun god's symbol adorning the wall. Not a simple emblem but an intricately carved one—the same pattern from Sir Gabriel's uniform. How'd they make such ornate designs? Gabriel, who sketched Donau's corpse moth-like, could never replicate it.
"It was too obvious a ploy, so of course you noticed. But I didn't expect you to bring it up first—caught me off guard."
"The marquisate's butler warned me ahead."
"The butler…?"
"Yes. He serves the marquisate with utmost loyalty. Working diligently behind the scenes without your knowledge, Madam."
Butler grandfather, I didn't forget to praise you! You'll know it's thanks to me when you get that bonus, right?
Marchioness Toten seemed unaware of his efforts, muttering "The butler? The butler?" repeatedly. Debating a raise, maybe? Or how much bonus to give?
Having settled on an amount, she ended her mutterings and returned to the main topic.
"You spoke first, so I'll dare ask. Is there a way to treat Rider? How did you recover? Please tell me. If there's any progress for my Rider, I'll give anything…."
The moment had arrived. She must think a lifeline had dropped when she saw me.
And now I had to shatter her hopes. This must be how doctors feel delivering terminal verdicts. Brace for a throat-grab.
"Sorry I can't meet your expectations, but there's no method."
"What?"
She asked as if she'd misheard. I smiled thinking she couldn't spit in the face of a smiling person, but realized too late it made me look psychopathic in this situation and schooled my features. That probably looked insane too. Do I really have no talent for acting…?
"A lie, right? You're just hiding it from me? Is my offer insufficient? I can even hand over the marquisate. Lady Rohanson, please. Please tell me."
She thought I was withholding the truth. Even added the marquisate to her bargaining list. With each word, her body leaned closer.
"There's truly nothing you can do, Madam."
She looked so pitiful I grabbed her shoulders.
"Why won't you tell me? Because I used Sir Gabriel to approach you? I had ulterior motives, but isn't it helpful for you too, Lady? Please pity Rider—he's in a similar plight."
Marchioness Toten seemed on the verge of tears. Her twisted face brimmed with raw sorrow.
No… there's really nothing. Evangeline just died, and I possessed her at the right timing. She truly doesn't believe me. That's why the butler grandfather warned me to prepare her. But butler grandfather, your special instructions are failing spectacularly.
No choice. Time for a detour. I need to convey there's nothing to tell. Ah, right—use the circulating rumors!
"Have you heard the rumor that I'm not the real 'Evangeline'?"
"You don't mean that's true? Don't tease me. No one masters such poise in a day or two."
Failed. All Dolliné's fault for teaching me too well. Not a day or two, but just two weeks? My talent's terrifying.
I needed an excuse Marchioness Toten would accept and back off from. Nothing came to mind. Desperately eyeing Hena for help, she gave a hint.
Our Hena's a genius!
Yes. Marchioness Toten’s a devout Rahel follower—this'll work. Leaning in like sharing a grave secret, I whispered in her ear.
"I summoned a demon."
"Pardon?"
"I begged the demon to revive Evangeline Rohanson."
Hena had mouthed 'demon' while watching me. She flinched and covered her mouth after—awed by her own brilliant idea?
I flashed the smile that once terrified Donau. Can't act, but villainess impressions come easy. Or maybe Evangeline's inherent villainy filters everything I do as sinister.
"Could you abandon your beloved Rahel and rely on a demon, Madam?"
Of course not. As a fervent sun worshipper, Marchioness Toten fell silent as expected. Religion holds unique sway in a textual world. No wonder saintesses trend.
To ensure no temptation, I added:
"Even if it demands not the marquisate, but human lives as payment? Even innocent ones?"
For reference, this stemmed from speculation on what Evangeline buys children for. The gruesome rumor that made Misha shriek about not handling human skin.
Later from Misha, the hottest theory was Evangeline needing lives to sustain her healthy body. Using it crushed false hopes, but… to dispel such nonsense, I must enter society.
***
Returning to his room at Marchioness Toten's urging, Rider was deeply dejected.
"Did I cause trouble?"
"Not at all. You were most admirable."
Rak shook his head at the child's question.
Dragging his frail body to greet the guest as the master was impressively mature for his age. On the verge of collapse, yet walking unaided back to his room.
"What did the butler think? Was I Viscount Toten-like?"
"Yes, exceedingly so. The late marquis would have been most pleased."
Only after Rak invoked the deceased marquis did Rider relax contentedly. He wobbled; Rak reached out hastily, but the child steadied himself against the wall.
"Sorry, just need a moment's rest…."
Rak marveled at the boy's willpower. His body seemed on death's door, yet he never showed it.
Without that cursed affliction, he'd perfectly suit as Toten heir. Had he been born healthy, Rak wouldn't be scheming from the shadows.
"Don't push yourself—lean on me. No one's watching, right?"
Rider minded not just nobles but mansion staff too. He wanted to appear the viscount, not the frail young master, before them.
As the butler said, the staff were preoccupied with the rare guest. Thus, the upper floor was deserted.
Convinced, Rider nestled into the butler's arms. Rak was startled by the featherlight weight but hid it, heading to the room.
