Zeppelin handed the key to Grace.
“The head maid holds the key. She’ll unlock the cuffs only in unavoidable circumstances.”
Zeppelin gave Grace a look filled with trust.
She nodded blandly, as always.
As she turned, a subtle smile—one no one would notice—flickered on her lips.
Let’s call it his final struggle.
Rebecca frowned at the uncomfortable weight on her wrist but quickly smoothed her expression into a bright smile.
She waved long after Zeppelin’s carriage disappeared.
* * *
“I’m back, Lady Rebecca.”
Robert knelt at her feet in her room.
He looked haggard, his cheeks hollower than when she’d last seen him.
Despite his worn appearance, he seemed in high spirits.
Rebecca smiled warmly.
“Looks like you found something?”
“Well, not exactly. I couldn’t secure the concrete evidence you asked for. But…”
“But?”
“I found someone who might provide information.”
“Someone who escaped the island?”
Robert’s eyes widened in awe.
“How did you… I always think this, but if I’d known your insight sooner, I’d have helped you earlier. Then you might not have faced such humiliation.”
He scowled at the cuffs dangling from her slender wrist.
Without explanation, he understood instantly.
The count’s obsession has flared up again.
But this was excessive.
No husband could chain his wife like a prisoner.
She looked like a convict.
The hounds shared his sentiment, whispering that the count was losing his mind, trembling with fear that they’d catch the fallout.
Unlike Robert, who fidgeted at the clinking cuffs, Rebecca seemed unruffled.
“This is lenient, don’t you think? Handcuffs? I expected worse, but today I learned his imagination is this limited.”
“Lady Rebecca!”
“I’m joking. I’m actually grateful. He’s spared me any chance to waver, so I can punish him freely. By the way, how did the hounds react to my cuffs?”
“They’re uneasy.”
“As expected. Without proof, Zeppelin’s made things easier for us. Have you met this informant?”
“Well, their whereabouts are unclear… But given time, I’ll track them down.”
Rebecca had tasked Robert with finding clues about the island where Zeppelin held captives.
Feigning illness, he’d investigated Zeppelin’s islands.
Few places could discreetly hold many prisoners for years.
Robert concluded the island must be Zeppelin’s private property.
But records showed nothing amiss, and most of his islands were thriving resorts.
Supplies needed to be smuggled in secretly, with guards stationed.
Likely, the captives were centralized for control.
So Robert ruled out tourist islands.
Focusing on uncharted, uninhabited islands, he heard of a wanderer claiming to have escaped one.
But he missed them by a hair and, forced to return to the estate, came back empty-handed.
“I know you did your best, but it’s a bit disappointing.”
Rebecca sank into thought.
Yulian had given her this chance. While Zeppelin was away, she needed to sway some of the hounds.
She’d hoped Robert would bring even a small lead.
But his failure didn’t matter; it was a tall order for such a short time.
After deliberating, she made her decision.
“Robert.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Are you good at lying?”
“Pardon?”
“I’m thinking of spreading a lie.”
“A lie?”
“Start a rumor among the hounds.”
“What kind?”
Rebecca uncrossed her legs and leaned toward Robert, still kneeling.
“Rebecca is a saint.”
Despite the word “saint,” her expression was faintly chilling.
Staring at his stunned face, she whispered.
“She’s blessed by the gods, able to see the future and past. Marrying Zeppelin is her trial as a saint.”
“A saint? That could be deemed blasphemy!”
“I’ll handle that, don’t worry. Haven’t they already called me a saint? The angelic countess, the flawless, virtuous Rebecca Devonshire. If they want a saint, I’ll give them one—what’s the problem?”
“But they don’t mean it literally.”
“Robert, you’re more rigid than I thought. A lie becomes truth when believed. Even if the truth comes out later, no one will accept it.”
Rebecca had seen this in her past life.
Rumors could turn victims into villains or bury people without evidence.
Even when the truth emerged, belief was stubborn. Labels stuck for life.
I was nearly driven from a village because of it.
In her past life, a married man had harassed her.
She rejected him outright, but rumors spread that she’d seduced him.
Her salon staff, made up of Liberta’s people, cleared the misunderstanding.
But the villagers’ gazes never returned to normal.
She became the seductive temptress.
That taught her the power of rumors.
“Say I have divine power, that I know where their kidnapped families are. Tell them joining me will save them. Coming from you, it’ll carry weight.”
“They’re suspicious. They won’t believe me right away.”
“Of course. Just plant the seed. I’ll handle the rest. I can conjure visions of the future as needed.”
Rebecca began explaining her plan.
Robert’s eyes wavered wildly, while Kanna, listening quietly in the corner, smiled as always.
* * *
“Rodrigo, you seem in a good mood today.”
“M-My lady!”
Rodrigo jolted at Rebecca’s sudden greeting, straightening up.
Perhaps because of Robert’s cryptic words last night, he was hyper-aware of her today.
“Watching her, I think Lady Rebecca might be a saint. She prays daily to overcome trials.”
“I pray daily too. What’s the issue?”
“She sees the future. Remember when she warned me about water? Recall the flood from the estate repairs? It happened minutes after she spoke.”
“That’s just coincidence…”
“There’s more. Think about it. She fits a saint’s profile—blonde like Defria, blue eyes, ivory skin, kind heart, and the trial of being the count’s wife.”
“Now that you mention it…”
“Isn’t it odd? Why insist on a sanctuary right after becoming countess? Never once denounced the count’s odd behavior.”
“Maybe she’s compromised?”
“Only we hounds know that. How would someone as pure as her know? Even with the cuffs, she stayed calm. There’s something about her…”
“Nonsense…”
But because it came from Robert, who never spoke idly, Rodrigo was shaken.
She does seem saintly.
In her white dress, smiling demurely, Rebecca looked celestial.
The sunlight behind her was so dazzling, Rodrigo couldn’t meet her gaze.
“Oh, Rodrigo. Watch the sky.”
“Pardon?”
Rebecca tilted her head with a mournful tone.
“Why does the divine give good people trials? All I can offer is a small clue to avoid terrible pain.”
“…?”
Leaving cryptic words, she glided away.
Rodrigo pondered her words, moving to switch shifts with another hound.
Then—
“Look out!”
A shout rang out as a large flowerpot crashed at his feet.
Rodrigo fell back, clutching his pounding chest.
The pot shattered into pieces.
Had he not heeded Rebecca’s warning and watched the sky, disaster might have struck.
Imagining his head like the broken pot, goosebumps erupted on his arms.
Swallowing hard, he hurriedly made the sign of the cross.
Saint!
* * *
“Finally!”
Eustaf, silver hair flowing, laughed maniacally.
The leaf, reddish-black yesterday, was now fully black.
Its tips curled sharply like hooks, befitting its name: Devil’s Claw.
Wearing thick gloves, Eustaf carefully transplanted it.
The mature Devil’s Claw settled comfortably in a temperature-controlled portable pot.
“Now the duke’s nagging will ease up, right?”
It had been a month since arriving at Montfer’s lab.
At first, it was pure bliss.
“You’re giving me this facility for free?”
“Of course. You’re essential to… well, to me. Focus on research, nothing else. Oh, these are your assistants.”
