Chapter 168

‘Why me?’

The duchess had never heard anyone question her like that in her entire life. At first, she couldn’t comprehend what she’d just heard. And once she did, she was so infuriated she could hardly breathe.

“…You!”

Her lips trembled. She glared at Nerys, frantically thinking of what words might cause the most damage. After a moment, she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, resuming the dignified posture of a noblewoman.

“Why? Because there’s a need, that’s why. You probably don’t understand, but in noble families, even the reputation of one’s relatives is extremely important. If you can’t grasp that—”

She enunciated every syllable as if delivering something of great importance.

“I hope you don’t misunderstand me. I have nothing against you personally. But I just don’t think you’re quite suitable to be part of this household. Am I wrong?”

“Maybe.”

Nerys answered sweetly with a gentle smile.

The expression was so natural that the duchess didn’t grasp the meaning of the words at first. When she did, her eyes widened.

“…What did you say?”

“I meant that I’m still young and lacking in judgment, so of course Your Grace is probably right. If you say you’re wrong, then you’re wrong. Who am I to argue?”

The duchess couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘What did this lowborn thing just say?’ Was she mocking her?

To her face?

Without a second thought, the duchess raised her hand. But before it could strike Nerys’s cheek, it was caught mid-air.

Physically, the duchess had the upper hand. But just like in an arm-wrestle, brute force alone wouldn’t land a blow if the opponent had the leverage. Gritting her teeth, she tried to move her hand a few more times before Nerys let go. The duchess simply glared.

“Now you show your true colors. My daughter said you were a conniving, low-class tramp—and she was right.”

“And here I thought Your Grace only spoke in elegant tones and entertained noble thoughts. Now I see where Valentin got her personality.”

“How dare you insult my daughter!”

‘Dare you… Dare you… You!’ The echo of her shrill voice bounced around the small room.

In truth, Nellusion resembled the duke, and Valentin took after the duchess. The men were cautious and shrewd, while the women were impulsive and simple.

And the latter were always easier to handle.

“Why would that be an insult? I only said what I observed. Valentin is honest and straightforward, just like Your Grace. If my words displeased you, I apologize. As someone unrefined and poorly educated, I must not know the proper way to speak.”

“Hngh!”

The duchess was breathing heavily. She looked like she might say something more but instead stared daggers at Nerys, then spat out her words.

“You think you can run wild and defy me without consequence? A lowborn like you murdering a noble—without a powerful house behind you, that’s grounds for execution. I’ll enjoy seeing your face then, because I don’t consider you part of this family.”

“I don’t either. But it seems the duke and his son feel differently.”

“You vile thing.”

“Was that a compliment? Thank you.”

The duchess glared harder, then took two steps back. She glanced at Nerys’s jeweled eyes and seemed to realize that escalating further would only hurt herself.

Nerys smiled and said,

“Truthfully, Your Grace, the matron despises your brother. To be specific, she despises House Elandria—and thus naturally House Wells.”

“You senile witch! Where else would you find a man as intelligent, kind, handsome, and courteous as my son?!”

The duchess couldn’t bear anyone speaking ill of her children. Nerys winced and looked around.

“You brought me here because you didn’t want the duke to hear what you were going to say, didn’t you? Then why raise your voice?”

“I wouldn’t be saying anything I’d need to hide from my husband!”

“That’s odd, considering you’re the most harmonious couple in all of society. So why bring me here in the first place? And why didn’t the duke himself ask me to persuade the matron? I might be wrong, but… maybe the duke has already decided that saving House Wells is a lost cause?”

Nerys narrowed her eyes and whispered. She knew full well the reason the duke hadn’t called for her—he was too busy putting out fires of his own. Bringing in someone he didn’t yet trust would only create more chaos.

“My ability can only be used once a day, after all. He probably wants to save it for something more critical. Which is why you, thinking of your family, are here asking me instead…”

“Shut up! You’re spouting nonsense!”

The duchess felt like she was going mad. Alone with this unnerving girl in a dim, small room—it felt like they were the only people left in the world.

Of course the duke would want to save House Wells. If anyone in Bistor had reason to do so, it was him.

And yet, this child’s words made a strange amount of sense. The duchess started to feel anxious. ‘What if it was true?’

If the duke ‘wasn’t’ trying to save her family… what could she do?

When something a person hates starts to sound plausible, it plants doubt. And in extreme stress, even sound judgment falters.

Nerys lifted the corner of her mouth, though her eyes held no humor.

She wasn’t even using her jeweled eyes. But the duchess was visibly shaken.

‘So this is what they call “family.”’

“Everyone knows the matron has no affection for any major noble house or even the imperial family. She’s only helping me because of my ability. The truth is, I ended up in her estate by accident, and she even called Nellusion ‘a viper.’ She’s fully aware that House Elandria is just trying to use me.”

‘A viper, about dear Nellusion!’ Rage flared within the duchess. But she also felt something else—pressure, as if Nerys might crush her if she didn’t resist. She had to focus just to keep herself from flinching.

‘How could a child emit such presence?’

“House Wells stockpiled weapons beneath foreign lands, and I hear they tried to arm local youth to incite a rebellion. That’s high treason—something punishable by swift execution. Time is of the essence. Is the duke acting quickly, Your Grace? From what you’re saying, it doesn’t sound like it.”

The duchess’s tongue stiffened. Execution?

The final decision in this matter rested with the matron. She was the overlord of Tropur, and a formal report had already been submitted.

And who in this house might know the matron’s thinking best?

Nerys wore a regretful expression.

“Honestly, nothing will be solved by talking to me here. My ability doesn’t compel people to obey unreasonable commands. The longer you delay, the more evidence will pile up—and that only makes things worse. You should act quickly, unless you actually ‘want’ your brother to die.”

“Horrible girl! How dare you speak about my family like that!”

“To save your family, Your Grace, maybe it would be better if your brother died quickly. The more time passes, the bigger this grows. But if the main suspect dies early, the case can be closed around him. Otherwise, investigations will expand to others—both House Wells and House Elandria. Do you think the imperial court would miss a chance to dig into the weaknesses of a high noble? They’ll come running.”

‘Smack.’ This time, the duchess actually hit her.

Unable to hold back her fury, she struck with all her might. Nerys stumbled from the force—there was a clear size difference, after all.

But behind the tousled golden hair, her jeweled eyes glared back with serene composure, like something out of a centuries-old portrait.

“You started it first.”

‘Smack.’

This time, Nerys struck the duchess.

The duchess had never once been slapped in her life. She stared at Nerys in disbelief, trembling hands and lips unable to form words.

Nerys gently mocked,

“Your Grace grew up cherished, didn’t you? Of course you’d want your beloved brother to survive. But no matter what happens… someone will die. The duke doesn’t say things like this to you, does he?”

“Of course not! Because it’s absurd!”

But even as she said that, the duchess felt herself slipping into the thought. She knew it was all manipulation, and still—

That twisted expression. That suspicion that what’s hers had somehow ended up in someone else’s hands. That burning sense of betrayal and certainty in her own cleverness…

Nerys saw exactly what she’d hoped for, and her heart felt both liberated and crushed. How foolish she’d been to ever bend to such a woman.

Back then, she could’ve escaped with her jeweled eyes. But she hadn’t. She’d been so grateful that they took her in when she had no one.

She’d feared being completely alone.

But looking back, she’d always been completely alone anyway. She should’ve escaped sooner.

“Maybe it would be better for Lord Wells to die quickly. If this spirals, both houses will suffer. Problems that could’ve been handled will grow into an avalanche.”

It was time to end it. Nerys looked into the duchess’s eyes and whispered softly.

“Oh, but of course… no one would actually ‘kill’ Lord Wells. Don’t you think so?”

“…What?”

The duchess understood exactly what Nerys was implying. ‘Far too well.’

Nerys smiled.

❖ ❖ ❖

Less than a week later, a tragic piece of news spread across the imperial capital.

The second son of House Wells—once considered the brilliant pride of his family—was not only tried on disgraceful charges, but had hanged himself in prison.

“Well, there’s nothing even the matron can do now. You can’t hold a dead man’s family responsible for his crimes.”

“She was furious over a maid? Now that a noble is dead, she should be satisfied.”

Most of society was connected in some way to House Wells or House Elandria. The matron, on the other hand, kept to her own estate and was seen as grim and unpleasant—never very popular.

Aside from Nerys’s role, most nobles had only heard a vague summary of the Tropur incident. They pitied House Wells for being caught under the scrutiny of the most difficult imperial elder. Many believed the incident was now resolved.

But before even a few more days had passed…

It was announced that the Duchess of Elandria had decided to separate from her husband.