Chapter 25
“Thank you.”
Etricia pressed the ice pack against her cheek without resistance but quickly pulled it away in surprise.
“It’s colder than I expected.”
Etricia gave an awkward smile and simply held onto the ice pack. Seeing her swollen cheek, Edmund took the ice pack from her again.
“It will be useless if it melts.”
He gently lifted her chin and pressed the pack against her cheek himself.
“Ah.” The sudden cold made Etricia flinch and let out a small gasp. Seeing her reaction, his once firm touch became more cautious, as if he were hurting her.
He never paid attention to such things when he was with knights. But now, he began to understand his sister’s stern warnings to act like a gentleman and Rail’s half-lidded, knowing gaze.
His lowered eyes scrutinized Etricia closely.
Unlike a man, she had a delicate neckline, round shoulders, and a full yet fragile figure that seemed like it could collapse with a mere gust of wind. It was a wonder she hadn’t lost consciousness from Devon’s assault.
“A woman who flinches even at the touch of ice… I let that bastard off too easily.”
Clicking his tongue, Edmund’s reaction seemed to make Etricia smile awkwardly.
“Did I surprise you?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that.”
“But you are concerned. I can see it in your eyes.”
Etricia lowered her gaze and gave a gentle smile.
“If you’re curious, you can ask me. Like last time, I’ll tell you everything.”
It was an opportunity to ask directly. In truth, Edmund had planned to be straightforward with his questions.
Since she had already confessed to suffering under her stepmother’s tyranny, it was reasonable to assume that the assassination attempt was also a desperate, impulsive act by a victim of domestic abuse.
The thought that his sister had almost become a victim of such a chain of events left him uneasy. Yet, when the moment arrived, he found himself unable to say anything.
What was he supposed to ask? Had she been exposed to domestic violence? Had that bastard hit her? Had she been hiding for the past four years because of it? What if he ended up hurting her again, just like before?
Edmund furrowed his brows and let out a deep sigh.
It was frustrating. Why was he worrying about Etricia’s feelings? Since when had he become so compassionate?
“My lord?”
Blinking slowly at her voice, he snapped out of his thoughts. He carefully pressed the ice pack against her cheek again, as it had moved away.
“I have no questions.”
“Really? If you wish, I can leave the estate.”
Edmund pulled the ice pack away slightly, looking displeased.
“Do you think the Count of Devon will leave you alone if you leave the estate?”
“Well, considering he even requested verification of the will’s authenticity, he might hire someone to kidnap me.”
Edmund twitched an eyebrow and pressed the ice pack back. He had secretly read the exchanged letters, but he hadn’t expected her to reveal this herself.
“Why are you telling me something so important?”
“Because you’re the Count. And because you personally dragged Devon out by the neck. Besides, you’re going to help Lady Wickley, aren’t you? At this point, we’re on the same boat.”
Just for that? Was she really this lacking in caution? Despite knowing he wasn’t particularly fond of her, she had shown her cards so easily. How could she be sure he wouldn’t betray her?
She was usually sharp, but at times, she could be oddly naive.
While he was thinking this, Etricia smiled and took the ice pack back into her hands.
“And since Lady Lilien might worry if she finds out, how about keeping this a secret from the household staff?”
Edmund scratched his forehead with his index finger, looking troubled. He recalled the three-hour-long monologue he had endured when Verita had last visited.
Having to listen to that again would be torture, so after a brief deliberation, he lowered his hand and nodded.
“I will do so.”
“That’s a relief.”
Etricia finally smiled in relief and let out a small sigh.
Edmund quietly watched her.
This small interaction didn’t mean his suspicions were gone. She was still someone who had tried to harm his sister and whose true intentions remained unknown.
Yet, he now saw her as both a potential threat and a victim. This realization made his previous resentment toward her feel… slightly uncomfortable.
His heart felt heavy, as if weighed down, and he rubbed his chest absentmindedly.
Wrapped in a mere blanket, shivering and barely clothed, Devon arrived at Viscount Dien’s estate and immediately sought out Antra.
“Devon, good heavens! What happened to you?”
Antra, who had been leisurely filing her nails, dismissed the servants.
“The Count of Mipedian, that bastard…!”
“What?”
Startled, Antra rubbed her son’s back as he took deep, ragged breaths.
“Devon, stop wasting your energy on this meaningless struggle. Just get a divorce already! I’m sick of this. Just thinking about how I was humiliated at the boutique because of that woman…!”
Devon scowled and widened his eyes.
“Divorce? Are you out of your mind? I’d be handing over all the wealth to her!”
“What? What are you talking about? Hand over the wealth?”
“She knows that we forged the will!”
“What?!”
Ignoring Antra’s shock, Devon ruffled his hair in frustration and collapsed onto the sofa.
“How did she find out? I burned the will and erased all evidence…!”
Damn it, damn it! He rubbed his face roughly.
If the will still existed, everything would go according to Etricia’s plans. And if the magic tower was already verifying its authenticity, there was nothing he could do.
“Do you think I’ll just let this end with a divorce?”
With a wicked smirk, Devon turned to Antra.
“I have a plan.”
“What is it? Tell me!”
Devon leaned in and whispered into Antra’s ear.
It was a plan that would not only pay back Mipedian’s count but also serve his own revenge.
Pulling away, Devon ran a finger over his lips, his eyes gleaming with malice.
The next day, the empire’s daily newspaper reported that Devon had been thrown out of the Mipedian estate—completely naked.
That article, in turn, lent weight to the one I had published about the marital discord and impending divorce of the Count of Buell’s household.
“Hah, serves him right.”
I chuckled in satisfaction as I read the paper, using the rattling carriage as background music.
Setting the newspaper aside, I picked up a letter from the table. It was from the leaders of the mining industry and my uncle, questioning the validity of the divorce rumors.
Yes, of course. Absolutely. Smiling like a yes-man, I sat at the makeshift table and began drafting replies. Those dissatisfied with Devon’s management would surely support me.
Especially the legal advisor of the Buell family, who had the closest dealings with Devon—I carefully composed a letter for him.
Once the letters were complete, I arranged them neatly beside the newspaper and massaged my stiff neck.
“Ugh.”
After hours of travel, my neck, back, and waist ached all over.
I was on my way to the duke’s territory at Edmund’s invitation.
After riding in the carriage for a long time—even with the use of a portal, it still took three or four hours.
While rubbing the back of my neck, I suddenly remembered what had happened a few days ago.
After Devon came and caused a scene, I thought for sure I’d be kicked out.
Who would leave someone dangerous near their own sister, knowing he might come back and do something worse?
I thought this was the perfect chance to leave comfortably…
But Edmund didn’t ask anything and simply told me to keep staying at the mansion.
He did show some discomfort, but it wasn’t directed at me.
So I changed my approach, openly showing my hand and proving that I fully trusted him.
They say even the hardest tree will fall if you strike it ten times.
Maybe that’s why—though he still kept a wall up—the sharp tension and wary air had softened.
It felt like a wild cat that used to hiss with its eyes flashing now just sat near me without reacting.
‘I hope we can grow a little closer today.’
Suddenly, the breeze made the curtains flutter, bringing in a rich scent of greenery.
When I pulled the curtains aside, I saw a dazzling green vineyard under the bright sunlight.
The natural view was breathtaking.
The Empire wasn’t famous for its wine.
Compared to countries with vast vineyards, the Empire had relatively few.
But among wine lovers, the most beloved wine-producing region was the vineyards of the Duchy of Mipedian.
Some even said their dying wish was to taste wine made from those rare grapes.
Decades ago, an imperial researcher developed a new variety that produced plump, light pink grapes year-round.
But since they started to spoil just hours after harvesting, only a few elites ever got to eat them.
And beyond those vineyards, in a small villa, was the Marchioness of Weekly, resting and recovering.
Looking forward to the upcoming meeting, I pulled the curtains fully open and looked outside.
A while later, the carriage stopped in front of the villa.
Standing there, Edmund approached and held out his hand.
“It’s nice to see you somewhere different. You look quite dignified standing here in the duchy.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Just help me down.”
So prickly.
His reply made me chuckle—it felt like we had gone back to how things were before.
But his eyes, which used to be cold and guarded, seemed softer than before.
Normally dressed casually, Edmund today was neatly dressed.
His silver hair fluttered in the breeze like a woman’s heart, and his calm gaze beyond it was so deep and gentle—how could anyone not feel moved?
And when he approached like a knight and offered his hand, how could he not shine?
