CH 19

“I don’t think I can promise she won’t be mistreated; in fact, I’d rather not have so much as a single hair of hers in our house! Everything will work out for the best if she stays with the House of Duncan, but look at what you’re doing!”

You keep turning people into monsters. Why do you keep pulling people back down into the pit when I’m trying to stop this f*cking vicious cycle!

Red in the face from his frustration, Count Artes glared at his wife as if he wished to kill her. Aicila kept her body taut with the intention of intervening if it was possible.

“How can there be such a pathetic, selfish, and shameless human-being?!”

She can see why the Countess was so furious. She had anticipated seeing only Count Artes in his carriage and was surprised to see his wife and son also riding along.

Aicila was shocked as soon as she found out that there were in fact three people in the carriage.

No, well. Since it was his wife and Lloyd who had committed the abuse, he would have had to bring them both along to make a promise.

But if the Count had any sort of conscience, logic, reason, or common sense, he wouldn’t have brought anybody with him when he came to beg.

His wife’s gruff voice rose as she argued with him.

“Who says abuse is something to brag about? I didn’t want to hit her either, but what can I do when I see her? You’re the one who began this whole thing! So who’s cheating? Are you crazy? You cheated on me, and now you’re telling me what to do, much less asking me for forgiveness?”

“You—!”

“What about me! Keep talking. Let’s hear what the man, who was silent the whole time when asked about the woman he slithered off with to have an affair, has managed to come up with; say it with that prattling mouth of yours!”

The Count’s face, which had been bright red, now turned exceedingly white. Aicila smiled bitterly at her opponent’s embarrassment.

Ho, as expected.

If it comes out that Ronell is part of Duncan’s bloodline, this one’s conviction will quickly crumble.

In front of her sat a gigantic piece of garbage who had stolen a child from Duncan’s immediate lineage and dressed her up as his own illegitimate child, all of that whilst hammering a nail into the heart of his wife who had pledged to spend rest of her life with him, before finally sitting on the sidelines and watching his own son’s crookedness.

I don’t know where to start pointing out how trashy he is.

Aicila stared at the Count in awe as his face grew even paler in her eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me—”

During her fierce rant, the door opened.

Bemused, the woman promptly clamped her lips together, and Aicila shifted her gaze to check her new guest.

A dark gray-haired boy walked in, his hand firmly gripping the back of the grumpy Artes’s son.

I had been wondering what was taking him so long, but it turns out he was held up helping to catch Lloyd. That, or he just got lost and caught Lloyd by chance.

Bertrand Richard first respectfully bowed to Aicila, the owner of the study. Slowly, he swivelled his head to observe the Count and his wife, and the two quickly stood up to greet him. Anxious glances were sent in the direction of the boy who had been ungainly carried in.

“Your son insulted my mother.”

Now, not only the Count but also his wife had turned pale. Both knew Lloyd’s temper well enough to not have any doubt about the authenticity of those words.

“My mother was sold, you say. Count Artes’s son.”

“……”

“Say it again.”

“What did I say wrong—”

Lloyd—! The woman screamed in a fit, but the child, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, crossed the line without thinking.

“It’s only natural for your mom to be sold if she’s illegitimate!”

“Aha. I see.”

I didn’t know you were so unhinged that you would really say it. Bertrand grumbled in a voice filled with regret.

Thud. The Count’s teacup slipped out of his grasp and tumbled across the carpet, but no one reacted. Because Lloyd, unable to control his temper, charged the Duke.

Bertrand Richard, however, was not merciful.

He rolled his fingers into a fist and struck Lloyd in the abdomen with brutal force. Winded, he gasped, unsteady on his feet before ultimately falling down on the carpet in a mess. Lloyd dug his nails deeply into the carpet, so the severity of the attack was plain to see.

The Duke lightly stepped on his hand with his shoe.

“I’m sorry to make a scene, Miss Aicila.”

Aicila responded kindly.

“That’s all right. I understand.”

“May I continue to re-educate him?”

Every person present grasped the gist of that one question without any need for further explanation. Aicila who sat lazily with her legs crossed, the Count who was frozen like a statue, and the Countess who looked like she could swoon.

Even Lloyd who was lying pathetically on the floor.

The duke of the empire’s query smothered the air, and an icy stillness descended over the room.

It was then.

“Your Highness.”

The Countess knelt down before the Duke without hesitation.

The Count tensed beside the groveling woman, his hands resting on the chair’s arms. Aicila stared out of the window, avoiding her eyes, and Lloyd, who had been lying face down, groaned without them noticing.

Countess Artes.

Prior to her marriage, she was a noble lover from a noble family, and thereafter, she was a noble wife of a noble family. She would kneel to no one except for the Emperor and Empress.

If the Young Duke were her opponent, Countess Artes would have no need to bow down until she was in the presence of the two imperial rulers.

The woman put her hand over her chest and beseeched pardon on her son’s behalf.

“Your Highness the Duke. Please.”

“……”

“Please forgive me for my son’s shortcomings.”

Bertrand waved his hand as she was about to bow her head. Though first reluctant, the Countess eventually found her voice and relaxed her shaking frame.

“This is all because of his lack of proper education—”

“Get up, Madam. Having someone kneel in front of me is quite unsettling.”

“…Your Highness.”

“I will let it slide today. I hope that one day, your son will realize the meaning of this moment.”

After the Duke had granted her forgiveness, only then did the woman get to her feet. Bertrand watched the woman’s trembling hands with slightly submerged eyes, then he continued smoothly.

“I’m sorry, Madam. Will you go out with your son? There is something I need to discuss with the Count and Miss Aicila.”

“Th-thank you. Your Highness.”

“Since you seem so pale, I suggest you return to your house. Miss Aicila, can you provide them a carriage?”

“I’ll do that.”

As Aicila pulled on the bell pull, Mitchell quickly appeared and whisked away with a bawling Lloyd and a staggering Countess.

An oppressive silence returned to the study, where only the three of them remained. Because of the tangled discomfort, the stillness was unusually heavy.

While Aicila sipped her tea, recounting the quarrel between the Count and his wife, Bertrand picked up one of the biscuits left uneaten by the woman and took a bite.

“It’s delicious.”

“Is that so? Would you like to take it with you later?”

As soon as the two of them started chatting carefreely as if nothing had happened, the Count, caught in the middle, quickly intervened.

“Miss Duncan, give me back Ronell. I’ve already told you over and over again—”

“I can’t approve of that.”

Surprisingly, it was the voice of the Young Duke who responded sternly this time. The Count looked at the boy who wore a blank expression on his face while calmly devouring the biscuit in his hand in half.

“This is none of Your Highness the Duke’s concern.”

“Miss Aicila Duncan.”

While calling out Aicila’s name, Bertrand continued to snack on the biscuits.

“Didn’t you say Miss Ronell was being abused?”

“I did.”

“If Miss Ronell returns to the House of Count Artes, she won’t suffer any more abuse?”

“The Madam stated that she cannot guarantee the promise of no longer abusing her.”

The Count cut in once more, this time stroking his hands nervously over the chair’s handles.

“But what does that have to do with Your Highness the Duke—”

“The rule of Duke Richard’s manor requires that Miss Ronell’s safety must be unconditionally prioritized.”

“Yes?”

What is he talking about, what the. Why should the Young Duke have to ensure Ronell’s safety? Have they ever met?

The Count, who was about to voice his complaints, stiffened in his seat. He couldn’t help but widen his eyes at the thought that had suddenly crossed his mind.

No. I don’t think so. It doesn’t make sense.

But Bertrand Richard bent his lips in affirmation.

“Correct.”

“Why is that, Your Highness!”

“The ‘Rules of Hospitality’ are a strict discipline, are they not?”

The ‘Rules of Hospitality’, an absolute rule commonly followed by noble families. The rule dictated that the family should unconditionally guarantee the safety of those who were recognized as distinguished guests by the head of the family.

Due to the risk involved, many prestigious families did not recognize people who visited as distinguished guests but as visitors.

It was only in very unusual cases such as with relatives, the imperial family, or the royal family of another country, that they would be recognized as distinguished guests.

The House of Duncan is not a noble family. So the Rules of Hospitality were not followed, and thus there was no justification for protecting Ronell in this way.

He believed in that fact, therefore, he did all these things, but.

The House of Duke Richard is using the Rules of Hospitality? What nonsense.

The Count cried out before he knew it, feeling like his whole world was crumbling apart in front of him.

“Your Highness has never even met that child before!”

“Mhm, you’re right. So?”

“…Then how come you’re even using the Rules of Hospitality!”

Maybe it’s because of Aicila Duncan’s request that the Duke, who had left for a land inspection, came to Duncan Mansion early this morning.

He was already aware that the Houses of Duncan and Duke Richard were acquainted. It was well known in Ederka’s social circle that Duke Richard’s maternal uncle, Prince Frederick, the Prince of Siena, was Aicila Duncan’s ex-lover.

“No way, you don’t know how heavy the Rules of Hospitality are—”

“Count, not everyone’s intelligence is at your level.”

The Count was too engrossed with his own thoughts to notice the brazen mockery. In his blurry mind’s eye, he saw Aicila and the Young Duke smiling gently.

“Th-then. How come?”