“The Timon barony?”
“The current Marchioness of Moyton, taken as a second wife a few years ago, is the daughter of Baron Timon.”
In other words, the Baron of Timon was the father-in-law of the Marquis of Moyton. The current Marquis, the brother of the First Imperial Consort, was so incompetent it was hard to believe they shared the same blood as the cunning, snake-like First Consort.
Lacking ability but overflowing with greed, he indulged in women and reveled in the sycophants surrounding him. Without the First Consort’s backing, his reckless spending would have long since bankrupted his estate.
“For once, the Marquis of Moyton seems to have used his head.”
If it were the First Consort, she’d never leave such an obvious trail. She would have used someone completely unconnected to her as a spy.
This meant the Marquis acted on his own. Rumor had it he’d recently lost a fortune gambling, so he likely orchestrated this to curry favor with the First Consort.
“It’s more likely the Baron of Timon was the desperate one,” the butler added.
“Why?”
“I heard the Marquis recently took a new concubine.”
“So he’s anxious his daughter might lose her place as the second wife.”
“It’s good for us.”
As the butler said, this worked in our favor. The more eyes and ears others sent, the easier it was to deceive them.
“They went to great lengths to plant spies. We should reward their efforts.”
“Shall we proceed with the plan?”
“Did Father approve using the knights?”
“He ordered everything to proceed according to your will.”
A smile tugged at my lips. Father was clearly committed to supporting this, as promised.
“Are the knights trustworthy?”
“They’re all loyal to the Eliant family. They’d follow the master’s orders to their graves without complaint.”
The butler’s prideful response was met with a nod from me.
“From now on, pressure all Pison Guild shops in the capital. Tell the branch managers that defying my orders means immediate consequences.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Use force for show, but ensure no one gets hurt.”
“Understood. I’ve already instructed the knights thoroughly.”
Satisfied with the butler’s swift response, I gave a pleased smile.
“Any word from Evan yet?”
“Not yet. Shall we contact him first?”
“It’s better to wait for now.”
I shook my head, mentally organizing the ongoing tasks. The butler, not wanting to interrupt, quietly gathered the scattered papers and stood in a corner.
A clash with the Pison Guild was inevitable. I needed to show them that Evan and I were completely at odds.
Of course, they’d believe I killed Evan—or rather, that I thought he was dead. I’d even had trusted guild members stage his burial in the mountains, so if they didn’t believe it, we’d be the ones in trouble.
Knock knock.
The door opened with the knock, revealing dark brown eyes.
“May I come in?”
Rant peeked through the gap, asking cautiously.
“Come in, Rant.”
At my call, he scampered over and plopped down, rubbing his cheek against my knee.
“Isn’t it study time?”
“Today’s swordsmanship day, so I finished early.”
He pouted, his cheeks puffing out. I pressed his soft cheeks, chuckling. They felt like marshmallows under my fingers.
“I must’ve been distracted to forget your schedule.”
At my admission, his cheeks puffed even more. Lately, Rant had been trying to act more mature, but here he was, openly sulking. I had to admit I’d neglected him amid recent events.
“Sorry. Don’t be mad. I’ll stay with you until your swordsmanship lesson.”
His face lit up as I stroked his navy-blue hair.
“Let’s go for a walk, big sister!”
His dark brown eyes sparkled. Despite the pile of tasks, I stood up.
Rant quickly grabbed my hand. His palm, slightly calloused from sword practice, still felt soft and childlike.
Our walk was, as always, pleasant. Nothing special—just strolling through the mansion’s garden—but it eased the chronic headaches I’d been having.
“Is that rumor true?”
I was escorting Rant to the training grounds for his swordsmanship lesson. Focused on our walk, I’d lost track of time. To save time, we took a shortcut used by servants, rarely traveled otherwise.
“Shh! What if someone hears?”
“Who’d come to a place this secluded? Don’t worry.”
“Still…”
One maid, nervously glancing around, fidgeted as another jabbed her side.
“Don’t be so timid. Outside the mansion, everyone knows.”
“You’re right. We’re the only ones keeping quiet here, but everyone who matters already knows.”
As the two maids spoke freely, the timid one cautiously opened her mouth.
“My friend who works in the main house said the miss’s dress was covered in blood that day.”
“So the rumor’s true?”
“Would a rumor like this spread if nothing happened?”
“Good heavens!”
Too absorbed in their gossip, they didn’t notice Rant and me. They continued whispering.
“So the miss really killed the Pison Guild master?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Why would she? What’s she lacking?”
“Here’s something no one knows…”
The timid maid, suddenly bold, began spilling details.
“My friend’s friend’s cousin works at the Pison Guild.”
A friend’s friend’s cousin—basically a stranger. But to an eager listener, it sounded like a close connection. That’s how rumors worked.
“They say the guild’s in chaos.”
“Why?”
“The miss threatened the branch managers to hand over the guild or face consequences.”
“Gasp! So she killed the guild master to take it?”
“Why else would she kill him?”
“I heard she and the guild master were… involved, and when he threatened to expose it, she killed him.”
“Really?”
Rant’s grip on my hand tightened. I’d been so caught up in their talk that I forgot he was with me. Regret hit me.
I quickly led him away. He followed quietly, but his lips were redder, as if he’d bitten them.
Once we were far enough, I stopped and faced him.
“Rant.”
“…”
“Rant.”
“…Yes.”
He only responded after I called twice, avoiding my gaze. I gently lifted his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. His dark brown eyes, glistening with unshed tears, trembled with unease.
“Do you believe what those maids said?”
“No.”
His answer was immediate. I brought my face closer, still holding his cheeks.
“Then why’s my puppy so angry?”
“They…”
“They?”
He hesitated, biting his lip. The pale, chapped skin bled slightly. I released his face and tapped his lips with a finger.
“That’s a bad habit.”
Unable to bite his lip, he clenched his fists. I took his hand, gently uncurling each finger. He didn’t resist, letting his fingers relax under my touch.
His palm bore deep nail marks from clenching so hard. Sighing, I carefully traced the marks.
“Hurting yourself is a bad habit.”
“What about you?”
“Hm?”
“Why do you let those maids talk badly about you? When I was bullied, you punished everyone.”
He was right. Normally, I’d have disciplined them on the spot. He still remembered when I’d purged the maids, including his nursemaid, for tormenting him and disrupting the household’s order.
