Chapter 120

Nerys’s eyes grew cold and sharp.

“Don’t kid yourself, Cledwyn Maindulante. I didn’t say anything.”

The smile that had been lingering on Cledwyn’s face slowly faded. He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read her true feelings.

“But your expression looks bad.”

Nerys was stunned. She was managing her face as calmly as possible, yet this was the first time someone had called her out like this.

“If my expression looks bad… Fine. It’s because I can’t stand that woman’s little schemes.”

On the surface, what happened to Catherine today looked like a series of coincidences coming together just so. Her tearful face as she mourned her horse, claiming it was like family, was quite convincing.

But if you knew Cledwyn left the castle every day, and that he’d return when it looked like snow, it wouldn’t be hard to plan around it. Even making the horse bolt at the perfect moment wouldn’t be so difficult.

‘And that smile.’

The smile Catherine flashed at her was familiar. It looked just like the one Megara often wore, clinging to Abelus’s side in her previous life.

‘Fine, that’s something I have a right to be angry about.’

To dare play such shallow tricks in this castle.

To harm a loyal animal just to catch a man’s eye.

Someone who only understands value in such trivial terms, someone who isn’t a good woman at all.

Trying to win the best man in the world, with nothing but cheap tricks.

Thump, thump.

Nerys’s heart pounded with rage. Her eyes burned. Only then did she realize Cledwyn was still holding her hand, and she hurriedly pulled away.

Cledwyn clenched the hand that had held hers into a fist.

Deciding it was fine to be angry regardless of her feelings, Nerys didn’t bother to hide her indignation.

“Listen carefully, Cledwyn Maindulante. You need to get married.” (T/N: Yup! This is not a mistranslation. Apparently Nerys really called him in his full name. LoL)

Cledwyn started to reply, but Nerys raised her hand to stop him.

“I don’t know when or to whom. But not that woman. That woman—absolutely, a woman like that must never be allowed. Understood?”

For a long moment, Cledwyn just looked at her. Then, the expression that had been stiff on his face shifted into a smile that was difficult to describe.

“All right.”

“And that woman, and the Marquis of Tipion, will stay in this castle as long as they want. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because there’s still more to find out. Isn’t that part of the reason you made me your Advisor?”

Cledwyn wasn’t a foolish man. He wouldn’t have installed Nerys in such an important post just because he knew her well.

He’d had a purpose—wanting to put someone at ease, to make someone let down their guard.

So that someone who once tried to kill him as a child and had since laid low would finally make a move, thinking their chance had come.

The look in Nerys’s eyes as she voiced the things she’d long suspected was almost like sparks flying. But it wasn’t unpleasant. It was only natural to consider many perspectives when appointing someone to a high position.

If her presence could be of use to him, so much the better.

“I heard you’ve gotten closer to the Marquis.”

Since the Marquis became convinced Nerys was a spy sent from the Elandria family, he’d been acting very friendly toward her—though he hadn’t let slip any useful weaknesses just yet.

“I know it’s suspicious. But…”

“If I were going to be suspicious, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Cledwyn cut her off with a wry smile.

It wasn’t the sort of smile that had unconsciously crept onto his face before, but Nerys found a strange happiness in it.

She frowned. Happy? Why? …She’d just said something that must have hurt him again.

But he spoke gently, his usual composure returned.

“I’ll just think you care about me a little bit, Nerys Truydd. You can deny it, but that’s how it seems to me. And for now, that’s enough.”

Then, taking off his cloak, he draped it over her shoulders, brushed the snow from her hair, and left.

Left alone, Nerys was briefly flustered by the weight of his cloak. The lingering warmth made her want to cry, and she stamped at the snow on the ground, scattering the powdery drifts that now reached her ankles.

‘I think I failed.’

In pushing him away… this time, it really felt like she had failed.

(T/N: Im frustrated at you Nerys!! Dont be a tsundere! )

❖ ❖ ❖

Cledwyn’s mood had improved so dramatically that even Aidan noticed.

After days of icy tension, the gentle atmosphere had returned.

“It’s fine, just handle it by the book. Carry out item two as planned.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The administrator, not knowing why Cledwyn was suddenly in such a good mood, looked like he’d been given a reprieve as he escaped from the office.

Watching in a soldier’s uniform, Talfrin made a sarcastic comment.

“Anyone would think you’ve just been granted permission to court someone.”

Cledwyn didn’t care. He was too busy looking at a jewelry catalog.

Talfrin finally lost his temper.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Isn’t all you’ve got a guess that the Advisor ‘maybe’ cares about you a little? Why are you already picking out jewels?”

“There’s no harm in having something made in advance.”

The treasury had been overflowing with jewels for so long, it had started spilling into the neighboring storeroom. Talfrin, who knew this all too well, shook his head.

“When the Advisor finds out you ordered a ring before even proposing, she’ll think you’re creepy. No woman likes a man who runs ahead on his own.”

It sounded harsh, but it was Talfrin’s way of showing concern. If Nerys and Cledwyn went back to how they were a short while ago, it would be bad for everyone.

Cledwyn replied absently.

“It’s not a wedding ring. I’m just looking for a nice accessory.”

But the smallest gem in the selection was the size of a thumbnail… Talfrin was about to say more when—

Knock, knock. Someone rapped at the door.

There were only a handful of people who visited this office directly. But this knock was unfamiliar—cheerful, almost excited.

“Come in.”

At Cledwyn’s invitation, the door creaked open.

Smiling brightly in the doorway stood Catherine. Talfrin clicked his tongue inwardly and snapped to attention like a proper soldier, while Cledwyn’s face took on a perfect, masklike smile.

“What is it?”

“Your Grace, do you have a moment? Oh, Sir Aidan, you’re here too.”

Catherine smiled at Aidan—bright, not clingy.

Cledwyn folded his arms.

“I asked what you want.”

“I wanted to thank you. I haven’t managed to do it yet, so I baked a little something as a token of gratitude. I used ingredients from the castle, so it’s a small gesture.”

Sure enough, she was holding a plate.

“Leave it there.”

Talfrin could tell Cledwyn was annoyed. Who brings untested food to a high-ranking noble, especially someone brought by the Marquis?

Just then—

“Jwisom tree berries, I believe.”

Catching the slightly bitter, unique scent, Aidan muttered to himself. Catherine beamed.

“You know them! My hometown is full of jwisom trees. I brought some dried berries as a snack. They’re fun to chew on.”

“Isn’t the Marquis’s domain your home?”

“Oh, no. The Haricote family…”

Suddenly, Catherine’s face turned bitter.

“…I’m from Holcastle. My parents passed away a few years ago, and the Marquis took me in…”

Everyone in the room instantly understood how she’d been recruited by the Marquis as a marriage pawn. A young noblewoman, orphaned—a perfect setup.

And the meaning behind her words that “her horse was like family” became clear. She’d probably once lived happily with her family in the countryside, only for her life to be turned upside down after her parents’ deaths, forced to be used as a tool for her benefactor.

Aidan wondered if he should say something comforting, but in the end, he just closed his mouth. Catherine gave him a bright smile.

“I am grateful to Your Grace. Ah!”

Her gaze caught the jewel catalogs spread over Cledwyn’s desk.

“Oh my, how pretty. Are you picking out jewels, Your Grace? Are they for the Advisor?”

For the first time, Cledwyn actually looked at her.

His gaze was unreadable—playful, yet cold. Catherine flinched, but soon smiled brightly.

“If you ever need a woman’s opinion, please let me know. My taste can’t compare to the Advisor’s, of course, but I might be better than the men. I really want to express my gratitude.”

It was a ridiculous suggestion. Nerys had taste elegant enough for the capital’s social scene, while Catherine was just a country girl.

But Cledwyn leaned his chin on his hand, smiling as if her words truly interested him.

“What’s a present a woman wouldn’t find burdensome?”

❖ ❖ ❖

“Everything’s going well.”

For several days, Catherine had been stopping by Cledwyn’s office, spending plenty of time there before returning. She spoke triumphantly.

The Marquis, visiting her room, clicked his tongue.

“How can you be so sure?”

Catherine, inwardly mocking him, answered with a tone of pity.

“Nothing brings people together faster than love advice, Your Excellency. Especially with someone as guarded as the Grand Duke.”

“If you give bad advice, you think he won’t notice?”

“Who said anything about bad advice? Of course I only say what he wants to hear. Who wouldn’t like the Grand Duke? Of course the Advisor has feelings for him, too.”

“What if the Advisor and the Grand Duke actually get together?”

“Oh, I won’t let that happen.”

Catherine answered confidently, as if it were only natural. The Marquis snorted.

Her eyes turned icy.

“You don’t seem interested in my work lately, Your Excellency. Why? Have you started thinking you don’t like the idea after all? That your precious grandson might end up marrying someone like me?”

She couldn’t point to when it had started, but lately the Marquis had grown indifferent about her pursuit of Cledwyn—leaving it all up to her.

Catherine was almost offended. If the Marquis hadn’t sought her out and convinced her, would she ever have dared, given her status, to seduce the Grand Duke? When it was obvious she wouldn’t be welcome?

“When you recruited the ‘Vixen’ from the Savenya Troupe, you must have been ready for this. If you were so afraid noble blood would be mixed with that of an actress, you should have brought some pretentious noble girl. Though I suppose you would have failed.”

At her bold words, the Marquis’s face hardened.

Catherine Haricote had been a professional actress. Yet her true talents shone brightest when her “audience” was a man she set her sights on.

After her parents died a few years ago, she’d joined the troupe to survive. Even with noble birth, it meant nothing without money.

Since then, she’d hungrily sought out patrons—kindhearted actors, local lords, the sons of landowners who heard of the pretty actress…

Her looks weren’t flashy, but they could match any man’s tastes. If she found a man she liked, she’d gather every scrap of information about his values and present herself as his perfect ideal.

Good men usually already had someone, so many women resented Catherine. But the men she courted always ended up devoted to her alone.

The Marquis of Tipion, hearing these stories, recruited her—handing her the identity of the “real Catherine Haricote” from Holcastle.