25.
Four days after the passing of Duke Edenbahir.
Even with a massive scandal erupting, time flowed on, indifferent and unobstructed.
Just as public interest in Anita and Lancelot began to wane, the funeral service—the final rite to mourn the dead—was held. Considering the Duke’s status, the number of attendees was absurdly small.
Lancelot, who had remained at Anita’s side throughout, parsed her confusion.
“The Grand Duchess has refused or pre-emptively blocked visitors, claiming a desire for a quiet funeral. You can consider most of the people here to be relatives.”
He began to point out the guests huddled around the coffin one by one. The Grand Duchess’s siblings, great-aunts, cousins-in-law, and various cousins all stood in a tight perimeter around her.
They were the only mourners, and not one of them spoke to Anita. If they approached at all, they offered a few hollow words of consolation to Lancelot before drifting away. It was as if they were treating her as a ghost.
‘So that is why she blocked the mourners—to stage this atmosphere.’
The message was simple: there was no place for Anita Boellony in Edenbahir. It was a tactical strike, imprinting that fact upon the collateral members of the family as well.
‘If there were many guests, she couldn’t have excluded me so easily.’
Over the past few days, Lancelot had been unofficially assuming the dukedom, personally verifying even the most trivial affairs. Since Anita, an outsider, could not yet take charge of the household, the management of the funeral had fallen entirely into the Grand Duchess’s hands.
“The Grand Duchess has a wide network and many followers. Positioning herself ahead of me is a simple task for her.”
“If it is like this inside the house, it won’t be any different in the eyes of the public.”
Anita had chosen this marriage not only to find her father but to unearth the truth surrounding her family’s ruin. She had anticipated friction with the Grand Duchess, but that was irrelevant. The true conflict lay in the fact that the Grand Duchess was eyeing the investment rights of the Callasgo Trust, which Anita had inherited.
‘So, it wouldn’t be strange if the Grand Duchess was the one who orchestrated the bankruptcy of the Boellony family.’
The ruffian who had handed the note to the doctor, Volches, was likely linked to her. No, he *must* be. To find the source of the Boellony collapse and her father’s disappearance, she had to dismantle the Grand Duchess’s influence.
‘She will surely try to alienate me both inside and outside of Edenbahir.’
How should I act to make things easier?
“Even if it is a fake marriage, you treat me like a very heartless husband.”
Was my expression so transparent?
Lancelot leaned down toward her ear, his voice a low vibration. “I told you to trust only me. I have no intention of leaving you alone in this vast Shavalon.”
“…Does that mean you will always stay by my side?”
“If you follow me around all day, it wouldn’t be an impossible task.”
Then, in what way was he planning to protect her?
At last, the body of Duke Edenbahir was lowered into the coffin. As three servants carried it away, the mourners followed in a slow, somber procession.
The Dukes of Edenbahir had, for generations, been laid to rest in the rear garden of an old mansion located in the southern part of Shavalon—a residence used until 80 years ago. Since the old mansion was a thirty-minute carriage ride away, the attendees boarded their vehicles.
Upon arrival, just before the black coffin was committed to the earth, the will of Duke Ludwig Edenbahir was made public by Jill.
“My beloved son, Lancelot. I have prepared little for you. Forgive my shortcomings. I entrust everything of the Edenbahir family to you. I have only one request. Do not forget the deaths of your mother and your younger sibling.”
Did Lancelot have a younger sibling? Even Anita, who had known him for a decade, was hearing this for the first time.
‘I knew his mother passed away long ago, but…’
Since he had kept it hidden for ten years, there must have been a reason. Anita decided to feign ignorance until Lancelot chose to speak.
The silence in the burial ground was absolute. Even as an outsider, Anita could see the adults of Edenbahir gauging each other’s reactions. Paradoxically, Lancelot seemed the only one unmoved by the will intended for him.
A middle-aged man, the youngest-looking among them, challenged Jill.
“Baron Jill. Is the Duke’s will finished with that?”
“Yes. It is finished.”
The adults leaned together, whispering in sharp, displeased tones.
“It is shocking. Did he truly leave not a single word for his own mother, the Grand Duchess?”
“He is a child who drives a nail into his mother’s heart even in death.”
“What do you expect from Ludwig? It is cold-blooded enough to make one click their tongue. He has aged, but he hasn’t matured at all.”
Lancelot issued a low, cutting warning.
“The coffin has not yet been buried, Uncle. You must treat the head of the house with respect.”
The middle-aged man cleared his throat, his expression awkward. “Hm, hmm. Since we have confirmed the will, I believe it is time to bury the coffin, Baron Jill.”
Jill nodded, his face a mask of composure.
As the servants lowered the coffin into the pit, they threw lilies onto it one by one, starting with the Grand Duchess. Anita, last in line, gently placed her bouquet onto the dark wood.
‘Since I bought the flowers in advance, they’ve wilted a little. I’m sorry. Goodbye, Duke.’
Under the scattering soil, the coffin vanished. It was a fast, futile farewell compared to the years she had known him.
As soon as the service ended, the guests began to disperse. The Grand Duchess left immediately, and Lancelot was soon engaged in conversation with an outsider.
A middle-aged woman approached Anita, who stood waiting.
“Nice to meet you, Duchess.”
Though her appearance was unfamiliar, Anita recognized her at once.
‘Countess Milena Andresen.’
The godmother of the cultural world, known for taking young artists under her wing and for her outlandish scandals. She was a woman with an impressive face, distinct eyes, and long, beautifully curved lips accentuated by heavy makeup.
‘Her face is in the papers so often it’s impossible to miss.’
She was someone the Grand Duchess would despise; how had she managed to attend?
“Countess Andresen. Please don’t say that. I haven’t had the wedding ceremony yet…”
“From now on, it would be better to call me Countess Milena. It will sound more intimate that way.”
The Countess smiled, scanning Anita from head to toe with an incredibly rude intensity.
“You match the measurements I received overall, but… your breasts are quite large.”
“Excuse me?”
They say when you are sufficiently dumbfounded, words fail. Anita could only stare. Her breasts? On a first meeting?
However, Countess Milena didn’t seem to care about the impropriety. Her brow, smooth as white jade, narrowed rapidly.
“This won’t do. The measurements of the garments prepared will have to be adjusted again. Hey, Jill!”
The command was sharp and booming. Jill, who had been staring at the grave, hurried over.
“Yes. What is the matter, Countess?”
“Your maid recorded the Duchess’s breast measurements incorrectly. We almost held the wedding with her looking like an idiot. Do you want the newspapers to print headlines about how she seduced Duke Edenbahir in an embarrassing, lewd manner?”
“Yes?”
At the blatant, breathless reprimand, even Anita was stunned.
“A slight error in the chest measurements wouldn’t lead to that level of…”
“It’s not slight. It’s wrong. Very, very wrong! It’s like looking at the ocean and recording it as a lake! It wouldn’t be strange if the buttons burst!”
“Ma, Madam…”
Anita’s face turned bright red. Even then, Countess Milena’s brow did not smooth out.
“Whoever it is, drag them out and punish them. Whether it’s some idiot who can’t do a simple task or someone connected to the Grand Duchess, do not let them near the Duchess from now on. Do you understand?”
Was it because the Grand Duchess’s name had been mentioned? Jill’s complexion sank.
“I will keep that in mind. I apologize for the trouble, Countess Milena.”
He bowed politely, then turned to Anita. “I almost made a grave mistake. My apologies, Miss Anita.”
“It’s alright.”
“You must not say it’s alright, Duchess. When there is a mistake, you must reprimand them severely! Do not apologize so easily in the future. I will prepare a mountain of clothes and jewelry and bring them to you tomorrow, so do not make any other appointments.”
There was no time to stop her. Countess Milena spat out her orders and walked away. Anita stared at her retreating figure, no longer just bewildered.
‘Lancelot, you said you wouldn’t leave me alone in Shavalon…’
So that was what he meant by Countess Milena.
‘But even the Countess is ultimately an outsider.’
Inside the ducal residence, there would be limits to her help. She needed more.
‘I need someone I can trust, someone to entrust with everything that happens in the house.’
Someone reliable—who could at least accurately record body measurements.