Chapter 036. The Midnight Commotion
Quite late in the evening, the Grand Duchess and Cecilia were the first to leave the dining table.
On any other occasion, they might have moved to the drawing room for a light tea time, but as it was too late, both retired to their respective rooms.
In fact, it was rare for a dinner to drag on this long.
The reason was a conversation about foreign travels that came up during the meal.
It’s unclear who started it, but the discussion caught fire with amusing anecdotes from last year’s travels abroad.
As one person’s story ended, another would follow, and when that person finished, yet another would continue.
Thus, with each episode shared, the conversation continued well into the late hours.
After the two left, the remaining guests also intended to wrap up around that time, but the overly excited Count Leister delayed them for about another hour.
Throughout the dinner, the Count had been endlessly pouring Claret from the Bellua region.
The Bellua region, located in the northeast of the Lubaik Kingdom, was renowned for its mild climate year-round and significant temperature swings, producing high-quality grapes.
The only drawback, if it could be called that, was the extremely low yield, with only a few hundred bottles produced annually.
As a result, the wine from the Bellua region was either supplied to the royal family or acquired by a select few privileged elites.
The Chester Ducal House was one of those select few families.
By the time the dinner concluded, the atmosphere was utterly chaotic.
The host, Duke Cheister, sat at the head of the table, silent as if lost in thought, while the other three were engrossed in heated political discussions. Count Leister, unable to blend in with them, was completely drunk and incoherent.
After some time, Count Leister suddenly stood up from his seat.
Slurring his words, he announced he would retire first due to the effects of the alcohol, staggering as he left the dining room.
Though the end was a bit messy, it seemed the long day was finally coming to a close.
That is, until a scream echoed exactly ten minutes after the Count’s departure.
The four who were leaving the dining room, casually discussing the next morning’s hunt and preparing to retire to their rooms, froze.
A loud noise came from beyond the staircase leading to the second floor.
Then came the scream.
The scream, which sounded like a woman’s, prompted the three, excluding the Duke, to exchange puzzled glances.
And with good reason—the moment the scream rang out, the Duke immediately strode toward the staircase.
The three, bewildered, followed him to the second floor, watching his back.
But even as they climbed the stairs, none of them could have anticipated the situation they were about to encounter.
Not a single one of them.
* * *
The moment an unidentified noise from the second-floor staircase was followed by a piercing scream, their hearts sank.
It couldn’t be—there was no way the scream belonged to *that* woman.
Even as he told himself it couldn’t be *her*, the woman who had occupied his thoughts all day from yesterday to today, the maid, his feet were already moving toward the second floor.
As he hurriedly climbed the stairs, Raymond repeated to himself, as if making excuses,
The reason he was rushing so recklessly was purely because he was the master of the Chester House.
It had nothing to do with who the person was.
Adding such flimsy reasons, he reached the second floor, only to be met with the sight of Count Leister, roaring like an enraged beast.
Drunk to the point of forgetting where he was, the Count was shouting wildly.
And in his grasp, being dragged along the corridor…
Thick veins began to bulge on Raymond’s neck.
Lady Charlotte, hovering nearby at a loss, didn’t even register in his vision.
Raymond’s gaze was fixed solely on the woman being dragged helplessly beneath.
“Today, I’ll teach this insolent wench a lesson!”
As the red-faced Count screamed like a madman, Raymond had to exert every effort to suppress the boiling rage within him.
“What exactly is going on here?”
The low voice that echoed through the corridor instantly silenced the heated atmosphere, as if by magic.
The Count, who had been rampaging like a furious beast, froze in place, and the woman struggling to resist being dragged stopped moving as well.
“D-Duke.”
The one to break the stifling silence was Lady Charlotte, standing nearby.
She quickly glanced between Raymond’s stern, unyielding face and Deborah, who was caught in the Count’s grip.
Normally, in such a situation, the Duke she knew would have first asked her to explain the circumstances.
-Explain what happened.
And Lady Charlotte would have recounted everything she knew in detail.
But for some reason, the usual sequence didn’t come to mind.
As if confirming her ominous premonition, the Duke’s next words were directed at the Count himself.
“It seems I need an explanation for what’s happening here.”
The Duke’s voice, dripping with menace as he spoke each word deliberately, made the Count, now seemingly sobered, face him with a stiff expression.
Watching the Count’s snake-like eyes dart around, Raymond didn’t wait and spoke again, his tone icy.
“In my estate, what is this disgraceful behavior, I ask you, Count?”
“…”
Despite the lethal content, the overly calm voice felt even more eerie.
Only then did Count Leister realize he had made a grave mistake.
Raymond von Cheister. Who was he, after all?
The Duke of Ruvake, the current head of the Cheister House, which produced the heroic brothers Jason and Jade, who saved the kingdom from crisis.
A man whose influence rivaled the royal family’s, known for making even birds fall from the sky.
Though he usually wore an inscrutable, cold expression, tales of his true nature were legendary in social circles.
Knowing this, to cause such a commotion in his estate…
It was all because of that damned alcohol, but regret was useless now as his mouth went dry.
He couldn’t afford to fall out of favor with the Duke.
The money and time he had invested to get close to Duke Chester—
The Count’s eyes narrowed further as he scrambled for a way to escape this crisis.
After a brief moment of thought, Count Leister finally spoke.
“This, this is all a misunderstanding, Duke.”
“A misunderstanding.”
Raymond quietly echoed the absurd excuse.
“When I opened my room’s door just now, this… this thing was on my bed.”
“…”
“In the dead of night, why else would she be on my bed in a guest room?”
“…”
“It’s clear this lowly wench was trying to seduce me. Even considering my status, I shouldn’t have, but with too much drink…”
As he spoke, the Count’s voice grew bolder, but toward the end, he trailed off, glancing at Raymond.
But strangely, even after his story ended, the Duke showed no reaction.
Despite wracking his alcohol-soaked brain, the Duke remained motionless, exuding a chilling aura.
Growing anxious in the silence, the Count lowered his head and violently shook Deborah’s hair, which he was gripping.
“You filthy wench! Speak for yourself! Weren’t you waiting for me on my bed?”
The Count bellowed, mercilessly yanking Deborah’s hair.
The pain must have been excruciating, as if her hair were being torn out, yet not a single groan escaped her lips.
Even the three men watching from behind Raymond frowned at the Count’s disgraceful behavior.
Moments later, the one to break the commotion was none other than Raymond.
“That hand.”
A low, guttural voice growled out.
The Count’s frenzied hand stopped dead.
As everyone held their breath, waiting for the Duke’s next words, they finally came.
“You’d better let go, Count Leister.”
At the ominous warning, the Count’s grip on her hair loosened and fell limp.
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By Anna 💓
