Chapter 161

Even after nitpicking for quite some time, Valentin’s temper did not subside. She felt as if the other noble ladies in the boutique had overheard her conversation with Natasha. Although Natasha had spoken in a sufficiently low voice, Valentin was too paranoid to bear it.

In the end, Valentin left Madam Foyet’s boutique without buying anything. To change her mood, she decided to visit a boutique she had never gone to before.

“Take me to the Moriér Merchant Group.”

At her command, the coachman drove the carriage slowly.

Midway along Lotus Street, where high-end boutiques gathered, stood the Moriér Merchant Group, which had hung up its sign only a few years ago but was now frequently mentioned among young nobles.

Valentin liked Madam Foyet’s dresses and trusted her own taste. She thought chasing new boutiques was as if doubting her own eye for fashion.

But honestly, the designs elegantly displayed in the Moriér Merchant Group’s showcase were entirely her style. It was as if someone had looked directly into her head and created them.

So Valentin, who had always wanted to visit, decided to make today the historic day.

A little later, her carriage stopped at the destination. Valentin, happily stepping down, frowned when she noticed another carriage parked in front of the shop.

“Oh my.”

Coincidentally, at the same moment, a familiar face alighted from the carriage. Thick golden hair like honey, violet eyes.

It was Megara Lykeandros, who, like Valentin, was staying in the capital for the holidays.

At the graduation ball two years ago, Megara had suffered an unsightly blemish on her face, but regrettably for Valentin, after treatment she had regained her beauty. Some even said she had grown more beautiful with age.

Megara raised her brows in surprise at seeing Valentin. Valentin, still scowling, spoke. Sharp tension rippled between the two rivals.

“You come here often?”

Megara replied with a face so perfectly kind that others would see no fault, but Valentin, who knew her well, caught the mocking undertone.

“Yes. The designs here are so good, it’s as if they were made with my tastes in mind. Don’t you already have a boutique you frequent?”

At that moment, an employee ran out from the Moriér Merchant Group. Valentin wanted to make sure the employee attended to her first, just to put Megara in her place. All the more since she had just yielded Madam Foyer’s consultation to Natasha.

At times like this, Valentin knew only one method. She spoke haughtily to the employee.

“What’s the best you’ve got in this shop? Bring it all out.”

❖ ❖ ❖

“Young Lady, as you instructed, it has been done. Miss Valentin ordered seven of the finest dresses this afternoon.”

Receiving Dora’s report, Nerys looked satisfied.

The letters she had sent to Cledwyn had mainly contained instructions meant for Joan. Despite the complexity, Joan had handled it well.

One part of those instructions was to unveil dresses of designs Nerys had chosen at the Moriér Merchant Group’s Pellena branch. The finest lace, embroidery, and fabrics she had procured from across the continent years ago were combined according to the tastes of Megara and Valentin that Nerys remembered from her past life.

The Pellena branch manager of the Moriér Merchant Group was also quite capable. He knew how to stoke the vanity of a young noble eager to outshine her peers.

Thus Dora reported the Moriér Merchant Group’s successful execution of the plan.

“Well done. Since we’ve filled the shop with furniture and treats Valentin likes, she’ll keep coming. Just keep showing her more expensive things. Don’t press too hard on the sales pitch. Simply keep feeding her vanity. Valentin will spend her money on her own.”

“Yes, Young Lady.”

Dora answered briskly, though she surely had no idea what was really going on.

Looking up at Dora, Nerys smiled faintly.

“Since I must keep giving orders while considering variables, you’ll need to visit the Moriér Merchant Group often.”

“Yes, Young Lady. You need only give the orders.”

At that matter-of-fact reply, Nerys fell silent for a moment.

“You never ask why I make you do these things.”

“Yes, Young Lady. If you say it, it must be for a good reason. Just like what happened in Fecernon.”

It was trust, pure and absolute. Despite her background in the shadows, where one had to do all manner of dirty work, Dora always treated Nerys as someone great.

That trust weighed on Nerys. She had come here without consulting Cledwyn, convinced he would neither understand nor allow it.

How was it that people of Maindulante gave their trust so freely, as if it were the most natural thing?

“Did she tell you how things went in Tropur Redeng?”

“Yes. She said they obtained permission to operate in Tropur and were able to bring in enough workers and guards.”

“I was worried the festival being near would leave too little time. Good. If anything changes, I want you to contact Miss Moriér every day. Many lives are at stake, so nothing can be allowed to go wrong.”

Again, Dora answered dutifully, though she could hardly understand what Nerys meant.

Tropur Redeng was not usually a place that drew much attention from outsiders. Yet as a crossroads of trade, it taxed merchants heavily, which was why in her past life it had been one of the lands the Archduchess entrusted to Nerys.

Especially since the second son of the Marquis of Wells—brother to the Duchess of Elandria—had based a Wells branch there, ensuring steady income.

But Tropur Redeng had once captured everyone’s attention.

The Redeng Trial Incident.

In her previous life, on the night before the winter festival, one third of the Redeng people were massacred by their Bistor neighbors.

Yet the shocking part was what came after. The very next day, those who were arrested and tried were not the Bistor murderers, but the Redeng survivors who had lost their families.

The court ruled that the Redeng were heretics who hated the Bistor and had plotted to poison their wells and fields. Thus the Bistor attackers were deemed to have acted in urgent self-defense and acquitted.

At the time, the Redeng already bore a reputation for being treacherous, supposedly prone to killing each other. Conveniently, several murders of Redeng victims had been blamed on fellow Redeng, despite no witnesses or proof. Among the dead was Monica, maid to the Archduchess Moriah.

This time, Nerys would not allow such a thing. That was why she had ordered Joan Moriér to establish a Tropur branch in winter, but with care for the surroundings.

Compared to the Wells family who were already entrenched there, the Moriér Merchant Group were outsiders. Naturally, the Wells family and the local lord allied with them would reject the Moriér presence.

‘That’s better for now.’

The Archduchess had intervened on behalf of her vassal there. Having already been rejected openly, Nerys had grounds to bring in more guards.

Nerys intended to save the Redeng people. Because she still remembered what she had been told in her past life.

‘What the commoners want is not the truth, Your Highness the Crown Princess. What they want is a story that sounds plausible. They envy and resent the rich, yet they respect those with both wealth and power. If ill-gotten gains end up in the hands of a noble family of Bistor, isn’t that the happiness of the people?’

This event should rightly be called the Redeng Massacre. The Redeng had done nothing wrong. Their only misfortune was that their enemy was the Wells family—monsters who killed without batting an eye.

They murdered the innocent and fabricated evidence, stripping the Redeng of all their wealth and trade routes.

Around this time in her past life, the Wells family had faced financial troubles. Their riches had come from importing sugar produced by slave labor on a southern island. When a volcanic eruption disrupted supply for a couple of years, their funds dried up.

Businessmen never let money sit idle. Having invested all their gains, the Wells family was suddenly unable to cover their debts.

While scrambling for loans to keep cash flowing, they set their eyes on the Redeng’s wealth—not just of a few, but of the entire people.

Monica had probably been killed in advance to silence her, since she could have spread word of the ominous atmosphere in her homeland.

The only ones who knew this truth were the Wells family and Nerys herself. The Duchess’s brother had even bragged to her, thinking it clever strategy, convinced she would keep it secret out of loyalty to her family.

He was right. In her past life, Nerys had remained silent, cowardly.

But in truth she had no choice. By the time she learned, all evidence was destroyed and every witness silenced. As Crown Princess then, she was under constant surveillance from both the imperial family and the ducal house.

‘But that doesn’t excuse me.’

The Archduchess and her maid had been close to Nerys. To fail to bring the true culprits to justice, both then and now, left a guilty thorn embedded in her heart.

Had there truly been no way? What had she protected by keeping silent?

This time she would catch the culprits. Not only because it was necessary, but because she wanted to.

As Nerys brooded darkly, Dora cautiously studied her face.

A moment later, Dora’s gaze sharpened.

“Young Lady, someone is coming. It’s not that maid, Alice.”

“Is that so?”

The number of people who could come to this room was limited. Nerys gathered her thoughts and her eyes gleamed keenly.

This was the moment she had been waiting for.

“Dora, if the person coming now calls me away, don’t concern yourself with my movements. Guard this room. And if anyone enters here and acts suspiciously while I’m gone, deal with it as you see fit.”

“Understood.”

No sooner had Dora hidden herself in the shadows than someone knocked. Nerys answered calmly.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Delma appeared.

Once always so arrogant, now she looked at Nerys with disgust and resentment, no longer bothering to hide it.

“Young Lady Nerys.”

Still, remembering the excuse from when she had been slapped, her greeting was polite enough. Nerys regarded her with disdain. Though shorter, it was clear to both who was looking down on whom.

“What is it? Do you still have something to say?”

“My lady and Miss Valentin wish to meet with you.”

Delma’s brows trembled with fury at being spoken down to, but she still gave the answer first, just as Nerys expected. Which confirmed it—Valentin and Delma had prepared a trick.

“The Duchess and Valentin? Why?”

“They wish to discuss what you will need when you enter the court.”

What a ridiculous excuse. If they truly meant to discuss such matters, it should have been on her very first day here.

‘She must think she had some kind of inspiration while shopping today.’

Nerys did not bother hiding her sneer as she nodded. She had been waiting for this since the moment she slapped Delma.

There was no need to waste more time on Delma, except to provoke Valentin’s temper.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

Delma found it absurd that Nerys spoke as if she had a choice. But thinking of the scheme she and Valentin had set in motion, she felt her mood lift. Soon she would never again have to see that arrogant face.

As Delma left the room briskly, Nerys followed at an unhurried pace. She glanced back toward the hidden Dora, giving her a reassuring signal.

The door closed behind her.