The hostility that the word “Imperial Inspector” stirred up in Lyussenford was beyond description.
It was clear that digging up events for which punishments had already been dealt would only lead to a fresh bloodbath. The Emperor had always been harsh toward Lyussenford.
“What do they think they’re doing, coming back here?”
“Her Highness’s affair is a convenient excuse! Who knows how much they’ll tear this place apart again?”
“Oh, heaven help us, there’s going to be a bloodbath…”
The Grand Duke had always loved Lyussenford, and the Grand Duchess, being the victim, had possessed such a gentle heart that the punishments had been severe yet perfectly appropriate; for an inspector to come and stir things up now felt wrong. Most received this news with displeasure, while some secretly rejoiced.
The butler, who should have been among those rejoicing, unfortunately could not fully enjoy it. Between the Grand Duke suddenly breaking furniture and his own stress-induced stomach aches, he was short-staffed because the Grand Duchess, who had yet to fully recover, hadn’t hired a head maid. Now, he had to prepare for an Imperial Inspector; even with time left, it felt like his feet were being scorched by a fire.
“Could you handle this part, Your Highness?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
Even so, being a Lady Ostain, her eye for objects was unexpectedly better than the previous head maid’s, and she possessed a sharp, thrifty side, so the butler hastily handed over the minor tasks. Since Peon had already told him to defer most matters to the Grand Duchess, this much was acceptable. Of course, he had absolutely no intention of handing over the core matters or the precious ledgers. Those were his vital housekeeping duties—ones he would hold onto until the day he died.
They were meant to be managed by the butler who oversaw the entire Lyussenford castle. He had done it for twenty years without letting anyone else touch them, and that would not change.
“Thank you, Your Highness. As you know, furniture purchases must remain within the allocated budget. If you look at this page, do you see this number here?”
Kaella, looking away from the chaotic ledger filled with illegible handwriting and numbers, just nodded vaguely. There were multiple ledgers, and she doubted if they were being managed properly at all. Her goal before dying had been to clear out, organize, and verify every suspicious part of those ledgers and documents, but she had died without even being able to touch a single one. Now, three ledgers lay before her, but she no longer had the motivation to sort through them all.
“I don’t know much, but I will do my best.”
“Yes, please do. And you must hire a head maid.”
The inspector was on their way. They wouldn’t arrive for another month, but since notice had already been given, they had to prepare quickly. The butler intended to pass the head maid’s duties—which Doris Windgood had once performed in sync with him—directly to the next head maid without going through the Grand Duchess. Of course, this was under the premise that he would manipulate whoever the next candidate turned out to be.
After all, wouldn’t it be a noblewoman from Lyussenford? If so, the butler’s influence would be more than enough to sway her.
“I understand.”
A head maid. Even if she hired one, it would be easier to choose someone less troublesome. But what was the point? After the butler closed the door and left, Kaella stared at the desk for a long time. Unlike last time, when she had been given absolutely no information and knew nothing, this time was slightly better.
‘Giving me the ledgers, too. How strange.’
Still, the fact that there was no office for the Grand Duchess remained. She would only do the work for a moment, and then the actual power would be stripped away again.
‘Well, I won’t be here for long, anyway.’
The arrival of the Imperial Inspector was an opportunity for Kaella. Let’s finish everything before the inspector arrives. If she handled this well, she might be able to quietly send the youngest, Marie, to Ostain. She had to find a way to make that opportunity happen. She would do just enough to get Marie out, without overexerting herself. Just enough.
Even after settling her thoughts, Kaella remained slumped in the chair, unable to move even a finger.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Every person who visited the Grand Duke’s office cast a very strange look at the sofa that had been placed there temporarily.
“I’ll get rid of it soon.”
Since they stared at it so much, even Peon couldn’t help but say it. Everyone then looked noticeably relieved. He had thought the color was lackluster, but for it to horrify every single visitor to such an extent—Peon felt a sudden, intense pang of guilt toward Kaella, who had been forced to live with that terrible furniture before the regression.
“Is it that terrible?”
“The color is just so…”
“It was in the Grand Duchess’s bedroom.”
“Ah, women’s tastes are completely different from men’s. Yes. It must look beautiful to women.”
“It was chosen by a criminal I exiled.”
“Actually, the color is quite hideous.”
“The Duchess seems to dislike it too.”
“It should be replaced immediately. Your eyes will tire if you see it every day.”
Peon watched Sir Renard, who changed his tune so easily, and felt genuine admiration.
“Your ability to change your stance is quite rapid, Sir.”
“My goal is to please my lord.”
“It would be better if you pleased me honestly.”
“I am a very sincere and honest person.”
One couldn’t really say anything to him. He thought that, like that shameless Renard, he too wished he could make Kaella smile.
“By the way, is this why you’ve been breaking furniture, Your Highness? Poor old Anderson is clutching his stomach and walking around now. Claims he has heartburn.”
Sir Renard seemed to find the butler’s complaints about his stomach quite amusing.
“You went a bit too far.”
Sir Wilberg, who had been silent, spoke up. Peon replied bitterly.
“I intended to.”
It had been that way from the start. How could Doris Windgood, the head maid who had always fussed over not being able to find better things for him, do such a thing? Peon felt betrayal at first, then rage at the subordinates who had dared to consider him a child.
“I personally couldn’t understand the decision to ignore the diet related to Your Highness’s health, but I understand it to some extent now. She was simply an evil person.”
Sir Wilberg concluded simply and coldly. Peon nodded. That was correct. She was just an evil person. The problem was that there were too many “just evil people” around Kaella.
And the most evil of them all was Peon.
“Still, wouldn’t it be best to finish breaking things and stop, Your Highness?”
Secretary Lezen, who had been receiving the documents Peon was signing one by one, said cautiously.
“Why?”
Peon was currently holding back a great deal. His blood boiled every time he saw the state of the Grand Duchess’s bedroom. Such treatment for his wife—the only justice, the only ally, and the only truthful person he had—was unbearable. Tearing it all out and smashing it to pieces wouldn’t be enough.
“Her Highness seemed a bit frightened earlier. Her face turned pale when she saw the sofa ripped open.”
In an instant, Peon froze.
“Strength is naturally popular in a man here, but Her Highness is from Ostain, is she not?”
If her husband were constantly smashing household furniture, it would be easy for others to misunderstand, and even easier for his wife to misunderstand.
“…Was she… scared?”
To Peon’s question, asked in a stiff voice, Sir Wilberg couldn’t bring himself to answer, but Sir Renard replied in his usual way.
“If Her Highness is a brave person, wouldn’t she be more annoyed by a husband who keeps creating messes than scared?”
“Annoyed…”
Peon’s voice grew even heavier. He didn’t want Kaella to avoid him, no matter the reason. It was an instinctive rejection, and the root of the fear that was consuming him. After they divorced amicably, he wanted to be remembered as a good older brother. However, it seemed Kaella didn’t even think of him as a brother.
“She wouldn’t have thought to change it if I hadn’t broken it.”
“Our household isn’t so poor that we need to worry about such things, so aren’t you worrying too much just because of how it looks? Try talking. They say communication between a couple is very important.”
Sir Renard, who never missed a chance to chime in, gave his advice diligently. His lord’s happiness was his own welfare.
“Yes. At this point, talking would be enough to replace the rest of the furniture. Honestly, you’ve broken enough, Your Highness…”
Even Lezen nodded, leaving Peon with nothing to say. Kaella being scared or thinking of him as a violent man was no different from the last life. But talking? To him, who had always desperately pretended not to see her, that was an incredibly difficult task.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
How on earth was he supposed to talk to Kaella? Peon was tied down by this worry that had occupied a corner of his heart throughout his work all day.
She had drawn a line even further starting with the wedding preparations, and the childhood they had shared seemed to have evaporated, as if it never existed. Just as he had done before the regression, she was acting exactly the same now. It felt fishy, and at the same time, it was shamelessly upsetting and painful. Yes. It was painful. It should have been even more agonizing.
Deep in thought, he had been outside, and he stared for a long time at his bedroom, where the light was still flickering. Kaella had not fallen asleep. Peon eventually went up to the bedroom. The stairs of Lyussenford Castle were all steep, making them especially dangerous for a lady wearing a long dress.
He remembered Kaella suffering after falling on the frozen stairs. Yet, the strong woman who always seemed to overcome everything persistently had broken so helplessly. No, since it was the most callous and violent hand that had broken her, was it any surprise she snapped? With a heavy heart, he stood before the tightly closed door.
“Bee. It’s me. May I come in?”
Peon knocked cautiously, and when there was no sound from within, his complexion changed in an instant. His heart sank. Once again, the image of Kaella lying on the tower floor with her eyes open flashed before him.
There was no time to find a maid and send her in. What if she was already lying there like that? The weight of her—which had been absurdly light—still felt vivid in his hands from when he had pushed the door open.
As soon as he entered, he looked toward the desk where the light was concentrated. Kaella was slumped over the small desk he sometimes used to work in the bedroom. Peon immediately approached to check if she was breathing. He felt a warm breath on his outstretched finger. Her small hand was stained with ink, and her hair, like starlight flickering in the lamplight, was let down. Those eyes, so clear and cold that he hardly dared to look at them directly, were closed peacefully. She was asleep.
‘I don’t know about a scary husband, but I’m certainly a husband who keeps creating work.’
It would have been fine to do things in moderation; did Kaella not know how, or did she enjoy working? Three ledgers that the butler carried around were spread out on the desk, and Kaella had scattered a few papers and was busily writing down numbers, dates, and items on them. Did she enjoy doing this, or was she annoyed and bothered, as Renard said?
*“One should do the work that is their own, Your Highness.”*
There was a time when he had been annoyed by her appearing again and again, asking to be allowed to do the Grand Duchess’s work. Ignoring someone mechanically was never easy. Even though he kept avoiding the places and tasks where he would run into Kaella, she showed up with terrible persistence.
*“Then go do the work, why beg me for it?”*
Even when Peon couldn’t take it anymore and insulted her pride, Kaella had endured it and asserted her rights. He had thought about allowing it to some extent, but when it was finally proven that she was a spy for the Emperor, he had praised himself for holding back.
*Foolish bastard.*
He stood up and widened the distance that had narrowed without him realizing it. Did he deserve to look at Kaella, who was sleeping so brazenly after he had spewed such words?
Turning his gaze away, he looked at the papers Kaella had been writing on. There were circles and question marks drawn over the numbers. Peon, who had stared at the numbers and the ledger pages for a long time, instinctively looked at the fireplace. The papers Kaella had written and burned remained partially unburnt. She must have been in the middle of burning the papers to dispose of them.
He quietly picked up the fire poker and threw the remaining scraps of paper deep into the fire until not a single trace remained.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
“Your Highness, Grand Duchess. You must sleep in the bed. You’ll catch a cold if you sleep at the desk.”
Kaella woke up with a start at the touch shaking her awake. The maid Marie was taking the pen from her hand.
“You must have been tired. It’s too late.”
“Ah, I must have dozed off. I’ll tidy up. You go sleep.”
“Oh, no. Even so, I should see Your Highness get to bed.”
While Marie went to fetch water to wash the ink off her hands, Kaella burned all the papers she had used to find the suspicious points in the ledgers.
“Oh, it’s stained.”
Marie sighed, looking at the ink that wouldn’t come off no matter how much she scrubbed.
“It’s fine. It’ll wash off in a few days. Go to sleep. I’ll sleep now, too.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Good night.”
Seeing Kaella turn off the lights and get into bed, Marie quietly closed the door to the darkened bedroom and left. Outside the bedroom, Peon, who had sent Marie in, was waiting quietly.
“Her Highness has gone to bed.”
“Right. I see. Don’t tell her I was here.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
After giving the order once more to keep his mouth shut, Peon quietly left the place.