Chapter 167

“Honey, please help my brother! What if he really ends up in prison?”

The sudden news had cast a dark shadow over the Elandria Ducal Estate. The duchess had been crying in the study for over an hour, and the duke sighed as he watched her.

“Darling, of course I want to help your brother. I’m doing everything I can. But these things take time.”

A member of the imperial family had conspired with a subordinate lord to orchestrate a massacre of their own people. They had even secretly killed a maid close to the royal family.

Rumors about House Wells’ actions were already rampant—things that should have been kept quiet under normal circumstances.

As if someone had just been waiting for a scandal to erupt and spread the story the moment it happened.

Everyone from House Wells living in Tropur, and others involved, had been arrested the morning of the festival. The duke had only heard of it once the gossip reached him, slightly too late to react promptly.

It was strange. The speed at which those close to the Lord of Tropur had been arrested, the way the plan had been thwarted almost as if it had been anticipated from the start.

Frankly speaking, what was the big deal if a few commoners were to be culled by nobles? Yet, the public uproar treated it like some monstrous crime.

The duke had a splitting headache.

“My little brother is in poor health, and now he’s going through something this outrageous in the middle of winter! Ah, dear… you won’t leave him like this, right? You won’t, will you?”

“Of course not.”

The duchess was so distraught that she’d been repeating herself for a while now. The duke gently patted her shoulder.

“Your brother’s helped me more times than I can count. As I said, I’m doing my utmost. But Lady Moriah is taking a hardline stance, and the charges under investigation are severe—it’s going to take time. Please try to stay calm and wait.”

The duke’s claim that he was doing everything he could was true. House Wells was one of the Elandria Duchy’s greatest assets.

The problem was that the duke had grown ‘too’ dependent on them.

If his brother-in-law lost all holdings in the Tropur region—if the duchy’s already strained finances worsened…

What would happen to the political funds promised to Lord Mo in three days? Or the servants’ wages due in five? What about the imperial military funding, which high nobles were expected to contribute during the New Year’s parade in ten days?

They could pawn off some family heirlooms or smaller estates, but getting fair value would be difficult. Even friendly families who might’ve lent money would now tighten their purses because of House Wells’ disgrace.

The duke had just been scouring ancient records for anything of value he could liquidate.

“But dear… how long do we have to wait?”

Honestly, the duchess had thought her husband would resolve this quickly. Her family had softened the truth to avoid worrying their beloved youngest daughter.

So she was disappointed by her husband’s passive tone. This was House Elandria, second only to the imperial family—shouldn’t they be able to move mountains if they truly tried?

Perhaps if this had happened under different circumstances, she wouldn’t have been so disheartened. She wasn’t a fool; she knew her family rarely told her the whole truth. She would’ve worried with her husband had she believed it was serious.

But deep down, a small seed of doubt and resentment had already begun to sprout within her.

The same husband who wouldn’t even agree to drive out an unwanted guest.

The one who refused to bring back a lowly maid, even when their beloved daughter pleaded in tears—because “she’d already been publicly caught stealing” and “family discipline must be upheld.”

All of it, for the “good of the family.”

But what exactly ‘was’ the good of the family?

Wasn’t the happiness of one’s family the greatest good?

“Honestly, dear, your brother has landed himself in quite a predicament. Conspiring with a subordinate lord and stealing resources from his superior? And what possessed him to lay hands on that old woman’s precious maid?”

The duke had only now learned that Monica—Lady Moriah’s maid—had died at the hands of his in-laws. Frankly, he was furious with his brother-in-law.

He understood the financial strain, the desire to solve it quietly. But why undertake something so reckless?

If you killed someone you shouldn’t have, then at least lay low and let the situation settle. Why push your luck and get caught now?

Had it worked, that would’ve been another matter. But it had failed—and so all of Lord Wells’ missteps had crushed both their houses.

Sensing the blame in his tone, the duchess snapped.

“He must’ve had his reasons! What good does rehashing the past do?”

The duke was taken aback and slightly annoyed. His wife had always been temperamental, but was this the time to lash out?

He sensed something was wrong. He was just about to ask if something had been bothering her lately when a voice came from outside.

“Your Grace, someone has arrived from the Moriér store.”

“Moriér?”

“Aren’t they the ones who caused all that uproar in Tropur, despite being mere commoners? Why are ‘they’ here?”

Both the duke and duchess wrinkled their faces in confusion and disdain.

The duke didn’t have an answer for her. At his signal, the butler entered the room.

Behind him stood a clerk, clearly hired for errands to noble households based on his attire.

The clerk didn’t flinch under their stares. Instead, he bowed politely and cheerfully announced:

“It is my greatest honor to meet such noble personages! I’ve come to collect payment for an order placed by your esteemed young lady!”

The “young lady” in question was obviously Valentin. It was normal for shop staff to come by every few days to collect payment for her purchases.

Of all times. And it didn’t seem like this visit was related to any negotiations over the Tropur incident. If it had been, the duke might’ve been relieved. But this?

He scowled and asked the butler, “Couldn’t ‘you’ have handled the payment? Don’t you know I’m busy?”

The butler looked troubled.

“Well, the amount required exceeds what I’m permitted to withdraw without your approval…”

Which meant the purchase was too expensive to cover with the cash on hand.

The duke, though used to his daughter’s extravagance, was dumbfounded. How much had she spent for the butler to say that? And why shop ‘now’ of all times?

The duchess blinked her teary eyes at her husband’s reaction. After a pause, she spoke peevishly to the clerk.

“We didn’t realize payment was due today. Leave for now—we’ll send the amount tomorrow. Give the invoice to the butler.”

It was deeply shameful for a noble family to send away a merchant because they lacked funds. But they couldn’t pay with what they didn’t have.

The clerk smiled brightly, said he understood, and left cheerfully. He seemed to be the only one in this household having a good day.

The duke’s eyes flashed.

“Looks like it’s time to teach Valentin to start using her head.”

The duchess understood his meaning—though his timing couldn’t have been worse. And yet… the doubt kept creeping in.

What was most important to this man?

This crisis… would probably pass. Both duke and duchess believed that. But the duchess wasn’t sure if, in the bigger crises to come, their priorities would still align.

She had already thought it—deep down.

❖ ❖ ❖

When the duchess left the duke’s study, Nerys just happened to be walking nearby. Of course, it wasn’t entirely by chance—she had been casually observing the couple’s movements.

“Oh, it’s you.”

With a sour expression, the duchess acknowledged Nerys coldly. Nerys smiled.

Seeing that smile, the duchess asked icily:

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Why would I be?” Nerys answered with an innocent face, clearly to annoy her.

The duchess had lived her whole life pampered and adored, never needing to articulate her displeasure. If she showed irritation, others would scramble to guess the cause and fix it.

So all Nerys had to do was pretend not to understand.

The duchess stared at her with eyes as cold as ice.

“I was just about to speak with you. Good timing.”

“Yes, Your Grace. What is it?”

“Lady Moriah summoned you recently, didn’t she? What did you talk about?”

“Well… we discussed my innocence. What else would it have been?”

“So? Was anything resolved?”

“Unfortunately, no. The lady is doing her best, but it seems she needs more time.”

‘Time’, again. The duchess looked around, then dragged Nerys into a nearby storage room—one no one else used and where no one could eavesdrop.

She shut the door tightly, then stared into Nerys’s eyes, which shimmered like bewitched twilight. She hated those gemstone eyes.

If only her daughter had those eyes instead.

‘Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

She loved both her children, but she’d always favored her honest daughter over her inscrutable son. That’s why she ignored Nerys despite Nellusion protecting her, and overlooked Delma’s spats with her maids—because Valentin favored her.

Delma was at least sweet to the duchess. Unlike the thing in front of her—too blank to tell if it was naive or cunning.

Nerys could read the duchess like an open book. She smiled and asked,

“And why do you ask?”

“Because I need you to do something.”

The duchess, resuming her train of thought, spoke as if it were obvious.

“When Lady Moriah calls you again, tell her to let my family go. You probably don’t realize how much trouble we’re in right now. If that old hag would just back off, we could clean this up easily. Since this house provides for your food and shelter, it’s the least you could do.”

What a ridiculous thing to say… And one Nerys had heard before.

‘We took you in as our daughter and provided for you. You should return the favor. Tonight, I’ll give you the list of people to use your powers on. Memorize it thoroughly—don’t mess up.’

‘You stupid brat! How dare you say you won’t? Do you know how much you cost us? You take everything and won’t even use your gift when asked?’

Slowly, Nerys’s expression changed.

Her face turned cold and sharp with sarcasm.

“Why me?”