Chapter 61
‘Jessie Dorance, get a grip! You must tell the Duke immediately.’
Whenever Madam Nora had subtly looked down on or openly mistreated Agnes, Jessie had looked the other way. It had been the safest way to avoid falling out of favor with the Head Housekeeper.
But this time was different.
This was on a completely different level from mean-spirited pranks where people ganged up on someone and snickered behind their back.
If she continued to overlook Madam Nora’s actions, the Duchess might truly be in danger.
‘I should have done this sooner…’
Ever since the day Agnes had been drenched in honey tea, Jessie’s conscience had been pricking her, and now it weighed on her heart like a heavy stone.
To be honest, Jessie had also looked at Agnes with prejudice at first.
She expected her to be arrogant, extravagant, and tyrannical, just as the rumors suggested.
However, the Agnes she saw up close was the exact opposite.
Even when subjected to unfair treatment, she never once raised her voice, choosing instead to suffer and swallow her pain in solitude.
Far from being extravagant, Agnes was someone who was overwhelmed with gratitude for even the smallest kindness. She even thanked the servants every time, unlike other nobles who treated them like mere objects.
‘What have I done to such a person?’
Jessie scolded her own cowardice and forced her frozen tongue to move.
She would confess everything now.
Everything Madam Nora had done, to the Duke.
But the moment Jessie’s vocal cords vibrated—*thud*. A white object fell at Jessie’s feet.
Before she could even identify what it was, Madam Nora quickly bent down.
Then, her face turned pale as she let out a high-pitched scream.
“My goodness… Jessie, what is this!”
Jessie’s heart sank at that reaction.
What Madam Nora held in her hand was the note scribbled on the back of the envelope left by the knight earlier.
However, the atmosphere made it look exactly as if Jessie had been caught trying to hide the note.
“H-Head Housekeeper. Why are you looking at me like that? This is what you—”
“Jessie. Why on earth did you hide this? What if something terrible happened to Lady Agnes!”
“Head Housekeeper…!”
But the next words could not escape Jessie’s mouth.
It was because Lionel, approaching fiercely, snatched the note away.
Lionel’s eyes quickly scanned the contents of the note.
“…When was this received?”
“A-About an hour ago. Duke, I truly—!”
“I will hear your excuses when I return.”
Jessie inhaled and then swallowed hard.
The indescribable anxiety and murderous intent dwelling in Lionel’s eyes felt as if they were strangling her.
It was an overwhelming pressure that made the courage to even dare offer an excuse vanish.
It was also partly because Madam Nora, who had stepped close to her side, was gripping her forearm tightly.
Regardless, Lionel stuffed the note into his inner pocket and turned on his heel.
His steps were hurried, devoid of any composure.
Whether it was a trick or why this note had only reached his hands now was a secondary issue.
There was only one thing filling Lionel’s mind right now.
Agnes.
Nothing came to mind before her.
Instinct, preceding reason, led his body.
“Colonel?”
As Lionel, who had just arrived home, headed back out, Kalt showed a bewildered expression.
“Assemble the knights immediately.”
Before Kalt could even ask why, Lionel was already sprinting out the door.
His footsteps echoed on the stone stairs.
‘Damn it.’
From the moment he suspected the Castia Merchant Group was suspicious, he should have warned Agnes to stay away from them.
To think such a thing would break out while he was away for a brief moment.
“If she recognized the face, she should have run away.”
Why on earth would she involve herself there?
“I told her to just get information; why did she do something I didn’t even ask for?”
The veins on Lionel’s forehead bulged.
He knew.
He knew it wasn’t Agnes’s fault.
He already knew from Kalt’s report that the negotiation meeting with the Castia Merchant Group was a stage set by Edrian.
He also knew that Agnes had simply gone to diligently carry out the task given to her.
However, that was what made him so irritated.
No, to be more precise, he was anxious.
Lest something happen to Agnes in the meantime.
Lionel leaped down the stairs two steps at a time.
His heart hammered anxiously.
It was a sensation similar to, yet different from, when he saw Agnes almost get hurt during the Grand Theater terror attack.
A fear different from that time was seeping in from beneath his feet without him realizing it.
With every step that gained speed, Agnes’s transparent platinum-blonde hair, then her large eyes, and then her beautifully smiling lips came to mind one after another.
And finally, the imagination of all of those things sinking into blood and smoke in an instant pierced through his head.
He might lose Agnes.
The moment that thought occurred, he felt suffocated.
Anxiety soon turned into fear and caught his ankles. Like mud sticking to the bottom of his combat boots.
Something was wrong.
According to his logic, it was merely that one of his possessions might disappear. Why was he so afraid?
Far from feeling a simple regret at the assumption that something might have gone wrong with Agnes, he felt as if all the blood was draining out of his body.
“Damn it, Agnes…”
Muttering to himself unconsciously, Lionel quickened his heavy footsteps even more.
—
Meanwhile.
Lucian, who had successfully delivered the fig tart, was walking slowly along the alleyway.
It was now time to return to the Bardo Trading Company.
However, his footsteps were headed in the opposite direction. Right toward the headquarters of the Capital Defense Force.
Entering the headquarters, Lucian knocked on the handle of Jerome’s office door.
Then, a slurred, muffled pronunciation was heard from inside.
“Come in.”
Upon entering the office, Jerome was seen sitting at a table, clutching his shoulder.
Half-emptied rum bottles and pipes were scattered across the table.
The acrid smell of alcohol mixed with pipe smoke clung to the skin.
However, Lucian maintained a straight posture without even blinking at the repulsive smell.
“Are you hurt somewhere?”
“What do you care?”
Jerome’s reply was sharp.
Without even looking at Lucian, he slammed the table violently with the hand holding the tobacco pipe.
“Damn that Lionel Edmund Valheim! That bastard, that bastard, that bastard!”
Curses poured out.
Jerome, who had been shouting at the top of his lungs, grabbed his shoulder roughly.
The pain in his shoulder, which had almost been ripped out by Lionel’s hand when they clashed in the train car, remained vivid. Even now.
“He didn’t… recognize me, did he?”
Jerome poured rum down his throat.
Lucian’s gaze brushed past Jerome’s shoulder.
Seeing that the left and right sides were not balanced, it seemed the shoulder bone was subtly misaligned.
“What are you looking at? Is there a show going on?”
“I apologize.”
“Forget it. Don’t annoy me and just state your business. Keep it simple!”
“The Duchess of Valheim is scheduled to make contact with the Castia Merchant Group.”
“Castia?”
Jerome grabbed his head, which was spinning from the alcohol.
“As I reported previously, the Castia Merchant Group is a front company created by Rebelt to procure funds for terrorism.”
In an instant, Jerome’s eyes flashed.
He raised the glass he was holding into the air.
“Really? Ha, no way. How can this be so satisfying?”
Jerome laughed, twisting the corners of his mouth hideously.
His face, which had been red with rage, was instantly stained with excited euphoria.
He downed the remaining alcohol and stood up.
It was quite a feat that he didn’t even stumble despite pouring down so much alcohol.
“The opportunity to pay that bastard Lionel back for breaking my shoulder came sooner than I thought, didn’t it?”
Jerome, who was about to head to the negotiation site immediately, let out a long sound from his throat and wagged his index finger.
Then, he offered Lucian the leftover food he had been eating on the table.
“Since you’ve come all this way, why don’t you have some lunch before you go?”
The muscles in Lucian’s jaw stiffened slightly.
“Don’t be too grateful. It’s a reward I’m giving you because you’ve earned your keep.”
Lucian stared at the cold food.
There were clear teeth marks from Jerome on the half-eaten chicken leg. The sandwich placed next to it was covered in ash that had fallen from the pipe.
In that moment, the cookie Agnes had given him came to Lucian’s mind.
The contrast between the clean cookie that had been carefully wrapped in parchment paper and the food in front of him was quite stark.
A thought that would make Jerome fly into a rage if he knew crossed Lucian’s mind.
‘Should I have gone straight to the Duchess instead?’
Then she would have offered him cookies today as well, saying he did a good job.
However, Lucian merely tilted his head politely with an unchanging, expressionless face.
“…Thank you. I will eat well.”
☆▪︎▪︎▪︎☆
