1.
The Grand Duke had, quite fortunately, ceased his demolition of the furniture. However, so much had already been reduced to splinters that replacing a single item was no longer an option.
Take the Grand Duchess’s bedroom: a chaotic clash of atrocious hot pink, sickly green, and faded yellow-gold. Simply removing the curtains, the sofa, or the bed wouldn’t restore a shred of dignity to the room. At this stage, it was more economical to replace everything.
“The inspector is arriving, and you expect us to manage without a head maid? We are preparing for the spring sowing, we are desperately short-handed, and now the kitchen renovations—!”
The butler whimpered, clinging to Peon, but Peon calmed him with a gentle hand.
“The Grand Duchess has finally risen and begun her work, hasn’t she? The furniture she selected is reasonably priced and of exceptional quality.”
“Yes, you have recruited a remarkably skilled carpenter.”
That was one point the butler had to begrudgingly concede. While he had been too distracted to monitor the situation, the Grand Duchess had somehow managed to secure a master craftsman and finalize the furniture orders with ease.
“Since matters have come to this, let the Duchess take full charge of the castle’s renovation. You focus on the spring sowing and hosting the inspector. It is time to divide the labor.”
This was not what the butler wanted. He had hoped for the appointment of a head maid—someone he could manipulate at whim. Instead, the Grand Duke was stripping away his authority and redistributing it.
“You should look after your own health, too. If you intend to serve for a long time, you cannot attempt to do everything yourself. Accidents are frequent during the spring thaw, are they not?”
“That is true.”
“Then start delegating. We must remain together for a long time, and that starts with preserving your health.”
To think the reticent Grand Duke would speak such words! Rolf Anderson had known for twenty-odd years that his taciturn master possessed a kind heart, but he was moved to tears by the unexpected sentiment. To stay together for a long time—that was his own deepest desire. He was overwhelmed to realize the Grand Duke understood his devotion.
“Your Grace, what of delaying the kitchen renovations?”
“That will not do. It is better to show the inspector that we are taking the Duchess’s collapse with sufficient gravity to warrant a complete overhaul of the kitchen.”
“Ah! I understand!”
The butler’s realization was sudden. Of course! The Emperor’s scrutiny was powerful by its mere existence, but proving that Lyussenford was in the clear was another matter entirely. He, too, had to prepare with diligence. He had been so focused on using shock therapy on the Grand Duke that he had missed the broader strategic picture.
“It would be better to demonstrate that a thorough renovation is already underway.”
“It would be best for the inspector to arrive right in the heart of the labor.”
Peon nodded.
“I will personally oversee the construction, so do not fret; carry on as you were. I have no intention of burdening you with excessive tasks.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. But I am still spry.”
“I know. But is there any need to overexert yourself? Be careful. Leave the assignments to the Duchess.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I shall obey. Thank you for your consideration.”
Peon watched quietly as the butler departed, leaving the workload behind. Bit by bit, seduced by kindness or swept away by the current of events, the rights the butler had once usurped would all return to Kaella.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Tasks become familiar with repetition. If you poured your heart and soul into them the first time, you can execute them more skillfully the second, saving energy while maintaining precision.
The process of personally visiting craftsmen and furniture makers in Lyussenford—despite the dent to her dignity—and commissioning pieces while selecting materials, even drawing sketches herself, was carried out with startling speed. That was essentially the extent of her workload. Was it not?
“It is already finished?”
“Yes.”
Kaella nodded toward Peon.
“There is one artisan in charge of the furniture for my bedroom and Your Grace’s, and another for the study. The two will coordinate to ensure the three rooms remain in harmony.”
One had to report these matters accurately and retreat to avoid unnecessary friction. Watching Kaella, who reported with more precision than the secretary, Lezen, Peon replied slowly.
“It is a stroke of fortune for me as the requester, but please, do not overexert yourself, Duchess. I ask this of you not merely because it falls within your authority…”
He paused.
“…but because I hoped providing you with tasks would stave off boredom while you recover your health.”
Furthermore, he simply wanted the Grand Duchess’s bedroom to be decorated to Kaella’s own taste. It was already a cruelty that she had been forced into a marriage she didn’t want; for her to endure that hideous room as well would have been unforgivable.
“I am not overexerting myself. Choosing furniture is an enjoyable task.”
“Do not stop at the furniture.”
Peon slid the workload the butler had vacated toward her.
“The inspector is coming, as you know. Although it is some time away, we are renovating the kitchen and the sowing season is upon us. There is much to be done. I am ashamed to say that I am not a man of sophistication, so I would like for you to take charge of refurbishing the entire castle and hosting the inspector.”
“Me?”
“Yes. It is, of course, your rightful duty.”
Kaella hesitated.
“We… we should hire a head maid soon.”
“A head maid is merely a head maid.”
Hosting the emissary sent by the Emperor was the duty of the lady of the house. Peon insisted on this again and again, his tone strangely unfamiliar. A stranger is always frightening.
“It is spring, in any case. The season to carry out the repairs that have been neglected. Please survey the entire castle and attend to any areas that require it. I leave it to you. These are the documents I received from the butler. If anything is lacking, tell me.”
She had clearly intended to swap out the furniture and then retreat. She had intended to use this as a pretext to send Marie back to Ostain. Kaella stared at the documents on the table, unable to form a response.
“And from now on, please use the Grand Duchess’s office.”
“No.”
Before he could finish, Kaella cut him off firmly.
“It is enough for me to borrow Your Grace’s desk for a time.”
It had to be this way. Her presence should not be anchored here at all. That way, when the Emperor’s inspector arrived, he would see exactly how the Grand Duchess of Lyussenford was being treated. After the inspector left and this life ended, no disgrace would befall the Duke of Ostain. He would simply be a tragic victim who lost his daughter to the blizzards of the north.
A perfect, flawless victim. That was the only goal Kaella had to achieve.
“Duchess. I am not enough.”
She hated this man, who spoke in a low voice and insisted on leaning down to make eye contact with her. She felt a surge of sorrow and resentment; he was the only being who made an exception to his usual coldness for her. Her heart had hardened to the point of exhaustion. Wounds remained only as wounds; they did not heal simply because the husband she married a second time suddenly showed her kindness. If anything, his departure from common sense terrified her.
There was no way he would forgive the wicked woman who had stolen the place of the lover he would have loved for a lifetime. That was the absolute truth Kaella knew. Peon’s previous wrath had driven her to a miserable death.
“I am ashamed that my preparations were insufficient, and that you have had to suffer such hardship from the start.”
She wanted to scream, to ask why he was acting this way. She wanted to tell him to show his anger if he felt it. What was he trying to extract by crafting his expressions and words so cleverly? What terrible death was he planning to bestow upon her this time?
“That is why I want to make the Duchess’s position more secure.”
Was he trying to consume her whole by saying exactly the things she had craved before she died? Peon held out his hand. Kaella looked at it, unable to refuse, yet unable to grasp it. His hand finally reached out and claimed hers.
“The Duchess is my only wife, who rules over Lyussenford with me.”
The words, so sweet they felt bitter and instantly drenched her parched heart, were terrifying.
“Please do not refuse what is only natural. All the power and wealth I possess are yours as well, are they not?”
Peon finally took her trembling hand and kissed the back of it.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Has living through death once unhinged my mind?
Kaella stared at a few ledgers—merely a fraction of the books recording the income and expenditures of Lyussenford Castle.
The butler was not a meticulous man. He must have assumed it was safe to hand these over to Kaella, expecting her to gloss over them. Given the local sentiment that those raised weak and sheltered were to be ignored, Kaella must have been a joke to him.
Even so, Kaella looked down at her hands, now stained with fresh ink. To be so excited as to dig through and organize the ledgers—the symbols of the Grand Duchess’s authority—after receiving only a few? She had certainly gone insane.
*You said you wouldn’t do anything. You didn’t even have the strength to.*
What are you, Kaella De Chasseur? She had no answer, having already excitedly identified every suspicious entry in the ledgers. It felt refreshing to confirm that her suspicions about the butler were correct, though it was infuriating that she had once wasted her energy against someone so sloppy. But what of it? She needed physical evidence.
Kaella looked out the window. Darkness had fully descended; the nights in Lyussenford were especially deep. Having dismissed her maids earlier, she stood. She didn’t even light a candelabra, instead feeling her way through the dark corridor to reach a place of consequence. Even if she could not expose him, she wanted the confirmation. If she were caught, she would invent some bizarre excuse.
*I was hungry, I got lost—something like that. What would they say? And if it goes wrong…*
Walking stealthily, Kaella touched the small, round bottle in her pocket. It contained poison that would grant her a painless death. Simply touching the glass calmed her nerves. She carefully chose the quietest stairs.
There were forbidden places in this castle, many of them. She had to search the most suspicious location she had deduced from the ledgers—a place the Grand Duchess hadn’t even been allowed to approach. Patting the poison in her pocket, Kaella passed through the corridor, her soft fur slippers muffling her steps, until she reached her target: the butler’s office.
Only four people in the castle had offices: the Grand Duke, the Grand Duchess, the butler, and the head maid.
The butler was responsible for financial transactions and estate management; his authority was immense. It was no exaggeration to say he wielded more power than the Grand Duchess. This was absurd in most parts of the Krania Empire, but it was the reality of Lyussenford.
*I received the key, didn’t I? Does that not mean I am allowed to use it?*
What Peon had given her included not only tasks and ledgers but keys. Receiving the authority to enter most places meant exactly that. She didn’t know what kind of trap this was, but she intended to use it to resolve the questions that had haunted her confinement. Even if she were to die, she would have her answers.
She intended to test if the butler’s office was among the spaces her new key could open. After scanning the surroundings, which were too dark to distinguish, she inserted the key.
*Will it work? …It works!*
The moment the lock turned with a click and the door opened, her heart pounded uncontrollably. It actually worked. It was the moment she dared to set foot inside the butler’s office.
In the moldy room, piled high with musty documents, stood two chairs, a desk, and several bookshelves. Behind them was another door. Kaella’s objective was not the office itself, but that small, inner door.
*It makes no sense to keep this in the butler’s office, but this is Lyussenford.*
Did she have the authority to open it? She would find out. She inserted the master key. This time, too, the mechanism turned smoothly. Kaella almost cried. The exhilaration of being acknowledged to such an extent filled her. Even knowing there was a high probability of a trap, she was happy.
The inner room held even more precious items. Every drawer was locked. Kaella stood in front of a firmly shut cabinet. Naturally, it was locked. She tried to insert the key, but the keyhole was too small.
*I suppose they wouldn’t give me such an important key.*
She had been too carried away. Kaella let her shoulders slump in disappointment. She couldn’t sleep until this was confirmed.
Just then, footsteps sounded in the darkness. Kaella was not surprised. She drew her shoulders in and glared into the gloom with eyes full of venom and murder, hiding behind the door she had entered through. She rested her hand on the poison. All that remained for the pale Kaella was malice. If things went wrong, she would drink it and die.
The door opened. Someone stepped in. Her heart thumping, Kaella remained unafraid. Who was it? The butler? In the pitch-black darkness, a large hand reached toward her. Before she could react, her mouth was blocked firmly.
The moment she recognized who had silenced her, Kaella was seized with terror.