The Price Is Your Everything - Chapter 37
Joyce’s brow twitched as he noticed the dark shadows under Nerys’ eyes.
“…Did you find your accommodations uncomfortable, Lady Nerys?”
“I believe I slept better than you, Sir Joyce.”
At her calm reply, Joyce unconsciously reached up to touch the area under his own eyes.
In truth, he had been aware of it before she even mentioned it. He hadn’t slept a wink the previous night—there was no way his eyes could be bright and clear like a young fawn’s.
The previous night had been a nightmare for everyone in this household. The Earl and Countess of MacKinnon, as well as the rest of their relatives, had likely struggled to rest as well.
“My apologies for summoning you so early. However, there is something I must confirm.”
As Joyce spoke with his usual formality, Nerys smiled faintly.
Diane was still asleep. Nerys, aware that she had been tossing and turning all night, decided to leave her be and had her breakfast from Betty.
As soon as she changed her clothes, she was summoned to Joyce’s study.
Compared to Nualan’s excessive kindness while plotting to turn her into a murderer, Joyce’s unwavering sense of decorum was truly a virtue.
“This woman arrived this morning, claiming to know Lady Nerys. But the words I heard were so shocking that—”
“The ‘words’ you heard?”
Nerys raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Joyce ground his teeth briefly before rephrasing himself.
“The implications I gathered from her words were so shocking.”
Standing by the door of the study, Joan Morier had a grave expression. Nerys turned to look at her.
Joan’s appearance was quite poor. She had spent several days hiding from Angelo in town, leaving her with little time to care for her looks.
Though she had tried her best to appear tidy—her dampened hair pressed down neatly—her clothes were still wrinkled. However, her expression was noticeably brighter than before.
“Lady Nerys, did you help this woman?”
Joyce asked, his face filled with disbelief.
A flicker of unease crossed Joan’s eyes. Requesting a private audience with the young master of the Earl’s household at such an early hour was an audacious move—one she had only dared to make after hearing about last night’s events at the mansion.
Joan then confessed the full truth: the Railing Merchant Guild had deliberately falsified their ledgers to siphon goods that were meant for the MacKinnon Guild.
The young master had only agreed to meet with her because she claimed to have crucial information about Shivna MacKinnon, yet he had frowned throughout her entire account.
And at the very end, he asked sharply—
“So, you’re saying my uncle was involved in this?”
Due to her nervousness, Joan realized too late that she should have led with that information.
But she had no way out now.
Joan, knowing she had nothing to lose, spoke assertively, presenting every circumstantial piece of evidence she had.
When her testimony ended, Joyce wordlessly instructed someone to bring Lady Nerys. Joan had then stood still, holding her breath, until Nerys strode confidently into the study.
A twelve-year-old girl who held no real administrative authority. Joan, seeing that Nerys was younger than many of her own siblings, felt oddly reassured. Yet, she couldn’t shake the question of whether her reaction was rational.
The courage to let go.
A few days ago, Nerys had said something to her that didn’t sound like words from a child. How much could a young noble lady truly understand about her circumstances?
But Joan had to admit—she was exhausted.
That exhaustion was why a mere handful of words had been enough to sway her.
She had reached the point where she could no longer endure the torment that had driven her to the brink of strangling herself. Instead, she had chosen to reveal the whole truth.
Nerys looked at Joan’s face and smiled. Then—
“Hmm, is that so?”
She pressed both index fingers against her cheeks, grinning.
It was a childish gesture—one so silly that even actual children might find it immature—but on Nerys’ delicate features, it was overwhelmingly endearing.
Joyce looked completely dumbfounded. Joan also stared blankly.
A moment later, Joyce’s eyes glinted sharply behind his glasses.
“What are you doing?”
“Something you might expect of me, Sir Joyce.”
“I have never expected such behavior from you.”
His expression, full of bewilderment, might have hurt a real child’s feelings. But Nerys only laughed.
Joyce truly was perceptive. He trusted his own observations and judgments rather than relying on vague assumptions about someone’s age.
Which meant that, for the sake of the MacKinnon family, this was the better option.
“Diane is too young to understand, Nualan trusted in family to act honorably, and Angelo believed that a person introduced by family would be trustworthy. I am also young and was introduced by family—so why don’t you trust me, Sir Joyce?”
Joyce’s eyes wavered.
Confusion, anger, and finally—acceptance.
Nerys could read that final emotion because she had already anticipated it.
“I don’t expect my words to hold more weight than other evidence. You have plenty of ways to verify whether Miss Morier is telling the truth or not. But you still called me here—because you wanted to test me, didn’t you?”
She was right.
Joyce fell silent, staring down at the young girl before him.
To him, she was still the tiny infant who once wriggled in her swaddle, someone he instinctively felt the need to look after.
And yet—was this girl really the same age as his younger sister?
Her brilliance made it difficult to tell.
But in her gaze, he sensed something else—a profound sorrow and cynicism buried deep beneath her brilliance.
Still, could a mere twelve-year-old girl truly be hiding such emotions?
Nerys chuckled, puffing out her chest proudly.
“I won’t waste my breath explaining things to someone who already understands. But Miss Morier may be in danger—please make sure to protect her. You can do that, can’t you?”
Joyce silently observed Nerys for a long moment. After taking about three slow breaths, he clenched his fist and assured her,
“…I will.”
—
“You sons of bitches! Do you know how good I’ve been to you?!”
Even as he was being dragged away by the MacKinnon household servants, Nualan’s mouth didn’t stop running. The maids, shocked to hear such vulgar words from the once-amiable young master, shook their heads, while the servants holding him tightened their grip.
Shivna, tears welling in his eyes, cried out,
“Brother! Brother, this is all a misunderstanding! Sister-in-law! You know how much I cherish Diane!”
This exact scene was what Joyce had anticipated when he had them locked in the underground cells until the holiday ended. His expression remained cold.
The Earl and Countess of MacKinnon paid no heed to the commotion. They simply stood before the carriage, showering their daughter with affectionate kisses.
Behind Diane, her attendants, who would accompany her to school, busily loaded the new carriage with dresses, books, and toys she had prepared for the journey.
“If anything happens, write to me right away, okay? I’ll come running.”
“My dear, how will I endure missing you?”
“If you ever feel uncomfortable, leave a note for your father, and I’ll buy you anything new you need.”
Diane, embarrassed at being called ‘my dear’ in front of her friends, pouted in irritation, but her reddened eyes betrayed her emotions.
After the holiday, guests of the household had started leaving one by one. As of today, the only remaining outsider was Nerys.
Nerys didn’t even pretend to avert her gaze as she watched Shivna and his father being tied up and thrown into a supply cart.
Each territory had its own way of enforcing exile decrees. In this region, they still followed the old method—dragging the exiled straight out of the land’s borders without delay.
Nualan, struggling against his restraints, suddenly locked eyes with Nerys. His glare, filled with resentment and contempt, was met with nothing but indifference.
Seeing this, Joyce instinctively stepped between them, shielding Nerys from Nualan’s gaze.
“Lady Nerys.”
Under the crystal-clear, winter-blue sky, Joyce’s eyes gleamed as he bowed.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Nerys replied with elegance and simplicity, her voice devoid of any sentiment—not even the satisfaction or pride that one might expect in such a situation.
Joyce looked down at her, and to Nerys’ surprise, he smiled.
“Nobility is a fine virtue, but sometimes, one must acknowledge their own accomplishments.”
Nobility? If anyone here were to be named the most ruthless, it would be Nerys Truydd. And to hear such words from him, of all people—
Joyce, the epitome of righteousness, someone who valued the weak and prioritized trust. His words left Nerys somewhat amused.
She smirked and deliberately responded in a tone so dry that even Joyce would catch her sarcasm.
“Thank you for your advice.”
“If you ever need assistance, do not hesitate to reach out to the MacKinnon family. My strength is modest, but I will always be willing to help.”
The MacKinnon family would only grow stronger from this. There was no reason to refuse. Nerys lifted the hem of her dress in a graceful curtsy.
“Your words alone are already appreciated.”
The supply cart carrying Shivna and his father had already disappeared down the road. Next to be dragged out was Angelo and his daughter.
Angelo, making a commotion much like Shivna, shouted,
“Young master! My lord, my lady! I have been wronged! I was deceived! How could someone as powerless as me possibly defy the orders of the earl’s brother?!”
“Shut it!”
Due to Joan’s testimony, Angelo was now facing charges for embezzlement and conspiring to murder the earl’s daughter. Many of his past misdeeds had also been uncovered, and investigations into further crimes were ongoing.
The MacKinnon household servants, well aware of the situation, had no hesitation in striking him and forcefully silencing his protests.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Unlike Shivna, who was of noble blood, Angelo was a commoner. His punishment would go beyond exile—he would not be allowed to leave through the front gates but would instead be expelled through the back.
To ensure the servants properly handled the matter, Joyce strode toward Angelo and his daughter.
Nerys glanced at Heather.
Heather had not committed any crimes, but with her father’s downfall, she would never set foot in this estate again. Having spent the last few days imprisoned underground, she looked just as disheveled as the others.
As she stood beside her father, stealing nervous glances at Joyce, her eyes briefly met Nerys’ before shifting toward Diane.
Diane was looking back at her.
Nerys stepped beside Diane, deliberately positioning herself as a wall between them.
Although Diane was taller than Nerys, making it impossible to fully block Heather’s view, Diane simply smiled in contentment.
She didn’t seem interested in Heather at all anymore.
“Walking around the lake together was fun, wasn’t it?”
Despite the chaos that had unfolded during the festival, Diane and Nerys had spent the remainder of the holiday quite pleasantly. They had gone horseback riding around the lake—with Joyce holding the reins—collected pinecones in the forest, and spent entire days reading in the grand MacKinnon library.
Nerys hadn’t minded those moments.
She had plenty of time to think about her future plans while walking, and she had gathered valuable information on the kingdom’s current affairs from the books in the library. She nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s come again next year!”
Heather, sobbing, followed after her father as he was led toward the back gate.
As she disappeared from sight, the Earl of MacKinnon spoke.
“You are always welcome here, Nerys.”
(T/N: I’m so glad, Nerys has a true friend now. I thought Diane would be a bad person.)