Chapter 43

The library chair was as comfortable as ever.

Sensing someone’s presence, Nerys naturally lifted her head.

She was sitting there with such an air of nonchalance that one could hardly believe she had so casually taken over someone else’s seat. With a face as innocent and youthful as if she had merely stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, Cledwyn smiled.

“What do you want?”

Since their meeting had already been arranged through a letter, it was as good as receiving permission from the rightful owner of the chair. With that in mind, Nerys spoke confidently.

“Spread a rumor for me.”

“A rumor?”

Cledwyn repeated the word as he sat down on the cold stone floor in front of her.

Nerys was momentarily taken aback.

As the heir to House Maindulante, he outranked every citizen of the empire, barring the direct imperial family. He had likely grown up with wealth beyond comparison to the MacKinnon household.

And yet, he plopped himself onto the stone floor as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Was it because he was in the fencing club? Because he was accustomed to training? The practice grounds certainly wouldn’t be stocked with luxurious chairs.

Still, there was an ease about him that went beyond simple familiarity with rough surroundings. Besides, it wasn’t as if the academy’s fencing club would ever put Cledwyn Maindulante through grueling training. Abelus had probably made sure he never had proper instructors in the first place.

“Yes. And make sure Alecto is the supposed source.”

“What’s the content?”

“Here.”

Nerys handed him a prepared sheet of paper. Cledwyn unfolded it and skimmed through its contents.

Despite receiving instructions from someone much younger and lower in status, he showed no hint of displeasure.

To an outsider unaware of their true circumstances, it might have looked like a noblewoman giving orders to her servant.

Cledwyn was evidently a fast reader. He took no more time reading the page than Nerys had taken to write it.

After quickly scanning the contents, he tucked the paper away and smirked.

“You use people so well. Is she the next target? Hunting dog’s done its job, so now you’re boiling it for stew?”

“If it’s a wolf that could attack me at any time, yes. You might be kind enough to keep someone like that around, but I’m not. I have no means of defending myself. If I allow a single attack, I die.”

Her voice was eerily steady, as if she were discussing something as trivial as a weather report.

Cledwyn gazed up at her, his expression calm.

The finely crafted wooden and velvet chair was undoubtedly a high-quality piece, but still appropriate for a library setting.

Yet, when she sat upon it so naturally, it resembled a throne. The kind that was passed down among direct imperial bloodlines, symbolizing power and authority.

Even direct members of the imperial family looked out of place on a throne when they were still young.

Physically, Nerys was too small to properly fill the chair—her feet didn’t even reach the ground.

And yet, she commanded the space around her as if she had spent years making weighty decisions from such a seat.

It was fascinating.

And Cledwyn liked fascinating things.

His life, by his own standards, had always been dull, and he doubted that would change anytime soon. But Nerys Truydd had come along and piqued his interest.

How much of a variable would she be?

“Fine, I’ll do it. Anything else?”

“There is.” Nerys paused, then stated plainly, “Get me some land.”

Cledwyn tilted his head, then chuckled.

“You want to become a lord? That’ll take a few years.”

What was he even talking about?

Nerys shot him a mild glare. Of course, she wasn’t asking for a noble title. Why did he always have to joke like this?

“A single field will do for now. Obviously, it can’t be under my name. A house would be nice, too. Ideally, it should look like an idle estate owned by some minor noble. And the fewer passersby, the better.”

Her request was so detailed that it was clear she had planned it thoroughly from the start.

Even so, Cledwyn found it difficult to guess her exact intentions. He voiced the most likely assumption.

“Is it for your mother?”

“No.”

If she could, Nerys would find a way to hide her mother somewhere safe. But she wasn’t about to hand over her greatest vulnerability to Cledwyn—not yet.

She would only entrust such information to him once she had a clearer picture of who he really was.

Besides, it wasn’t as if her mother was in immediate danger.

One of the reasons she was still putting up with Nellusion was to keep things that way.

“Don’t ask me what it’s for. Deduct the cost from my future wages.”

Logically speaking, it would be years before Nerys could formally work under Cledwyn.

And since she had specified that the land should be acquired under someone else’s name, security was clearly a priority—meaning this was no simple favor.

A lower noble girl, with no connections or backing, was essentially asking him to wait indefinitely for repayment.

Yet, even as she made this absurd request, Nerys remained unshaken.

Cledwyn suddenly let out a quiet laugh.

She had complete confidence in her own words.

After all, who knew her own abilities and reliability better than herself?

She could accomplish a great deal.

And when she promised to repay something, she would—far sooner, and in far greater measure, than expected.

Cledwyn smirked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“Alright. And the specifics?”

“I’ll send them by letter. I didn’t think you’d agree right away—thanks.”

She had been prepared to give misleading answers to several probing questions.

But her business had concluded much faster than expected.

Though a bit caught off guard, she kept her tone composed as she expressed her gratitude.

Cledwyn shrugged and fixed his gaze on her.

To the point where it was almost uncomfortable.

“…What?”

“Alecto Isalani and Rhiannon Berta’s feud—did you stir that up just for today?”

Nerys blinked at him.

For a moment, her mind halted.

Of course, what he said was true.

But he wasn’t supposed to know that.

That she had predicted there would come a day when the very mention of Rhiannon’s name would be unbearable—when people would be so sick of her that they wouldn’t be able to stand her presence.

In her previous life, Rhiannon’s fortune—fortune so unfair that it almost felt like a cosmic joke—had not turned into such an unpleasant topic of gossip.

She had not been hated. She had even held a relatively favorable position among the upper noble children.

The lower nobles had accepted that she came from a different background than them.

The upper nobles tolerated her because she was quiet and unassuming.

But this time, things were different.

Because Nerys had twisted everything.

Now, everyone secretly looked down on Rhiannon. Everyone had, at some point, whispered about the uppity little Nona behind her back.

And then she actually became a Count’s daughter—as if she deserved it.

There was no way people wouldn’t find that disgusting.

Envy mixed with disdain always fueled gossip like wildfire.

A similar thing had happened in Nerys’ past life when she became the Duke’s daughter.

Like a worn-out wheel turning endlessly, the same grievances were repeated over and over until the children could no longer stand the subject of Rhiannon at all.

For noble children who prided themselves on their grace and dignity, it became a convenient way to avoid dealing with their own feelings.

After all, they would have to tolerate Rhiannon’s presence in social circles for years to come.

But the same solution had not applied to Nerys.

Because Valentin—who had entered the academy a year later—had made it clear to everyone that she detested and looked down on Nerys.

In her past life, even after she became the Duke’s daughter, people hated her just as much as before—if not more.

Outwardly, they were a little more discreet.

Behind her back, they were much crueler.

Strictly speaking, Count Berta had been a far better father than Duke Elandria had ever been.

And he was a man who had both the means and the love to put a diamond necklace around his daughter’s neck.

By now, anyone with a shred of wisdom should have realized it was time to shut their mouths and swallow their resentment.

Which was why Alecto’s sharp tongue—constantly bringing up an uncomfortable subject—was quickly becoming unwelcome.

Nerys knew all too well just how fast simple children could shift their attitudes.

But how—how had Cledwyn figured out that she had orchestrated all of this?

Her voice came out more irritable than she had intended.

“How could I have known Count Berta and Baron Berta would die? Do I look like a prophet?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Cledwyn smirked as he gazed up at her.

A sliver of sunlight streamed in, casting a glow over his face.

His smooth forehead, the sharp line of his nose, and his gray eyes—where the light touched, they shimmered with a faint golden hue.

Cledwyn was, without a doubt, an exceedingly handsome boy.

And the way the light accentuated the angles of his face made it even more striking.

Even Nerys, who had spent time in the imperial palace surrounded by beautiful people, had never seen a face quite like his.

But what of it?

Abelus might have adored beautiful women, but Nerys had never been the type to judge a person by their face.

She quickly suppressed the flicker of unease that had momentarily surfaced.

For a brief moment, she had the impression that he was assessing her.

Moments later, Cledwyn chuckled lightly and stood.

“I bought the seeds you wanted. I’ll have them sent over—go ahead and start your little garden.”

“Thank you.”

That was good news.

Nerys smiled smoothly and stood as well.

Cledwyn watched her small, elegant figure retreat into the distance for a long time.

—

Alecto could not believe what was happening.

Days had passed.

And yet, every time she approached a group of students, they scattered as if she carried the plague.

Whenever she tried to join a conversation, the entire group would rise and leave.

At first, she thought she was imagining things.

But when she made a joke in class—a really good one—and was met with absolute silence, she knew.

She couldn’t deny it anymore.

Something had changed.

“What, do you all have a problem with me?”

She had put thought into her tone.

She wasn’t angry.

She wasn’t whining.

She was simply asking—giving them a chance to say what was wrong so they could fix it.

Aidalia looked uncomfortable.

Alecto was one of Aidalia’s few friends.

So to see her hesitate like that? It was surprising.

And it pissed her off.

If there was a problem, shouldn’t they just say so?

If she had done something wrong, she could fix it.

If it was a misunderstanding, they could clear it up.

What kind of coward just avoids confrontation like this?

“This is why she has no friends,” Alecto thought with exasperation.

Sighing, she tried again—gently.

“So? You do have a problem, huh? Tell me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

But Aidalia never got the chance to respond.

“Ha.”

A boy sitting nearby let out a loud scoff.

The classroom was noisy since the teacher had stepped out, but Alecto heard it.

Clearly.

And it stung.

“You seriously don’t know what you did wrong?”

Both Aidalia and Alecto turned red.

Aidalia shot the boy a sharp glare.

“Hith…”

Hith Angerson.

A boy who liked Aidalia.

Aidalia was pretty, delicate, and kind.

And from a good family.

She had every right to speak her mind—so why was she acting like a spineless idiot in front of Alecto?

Hith had no patience for it.

“What do you mean?”

Alecto asked, dumbfounded.

Even someone as oblivious as her could tell that the disgust in his voice was very real.

Hith scoffed again.

“Benny Shire actually trusted you.”

He sneered.

“And that’s just pathetic. Some friend you are. Do you even know how pissed off everyone is?”

“…What?”