Chapter 8
“Congratulations! I heard the Lord has entrusted Master Abel with command over the troops!”
“Oh, it’s nothing worth celebrating.”
Chloe smiled gracefully as she watched the retainers making a fuss in front of her.
“But what could it mean, if not that he’s being considered the next heir?”
“Though I heard Abel wasn’t the only one summoned by the Lord.”
At Chloe’s comment, Roosevelt jumped in, clearly agitated.
“That girl doesn’t count! Are you really comparing something like handling a broken engagement to military command?”
“But we still don’t know the Lord’s true intentions, do we?”
“There’s no need to worry! That Irene girl is just a puppet. She’ll be discarded when the time comes. Honestly, I don’t even know why she was given a task at all.”
“Exactly!”
The retainers raised their voices one after another, eager to please Chloe.
“Hm. Who knows.”
“Oh, don’t be like that! Let’s give Master Abel some encouragement now that he’s been given an important task. Oh! Look—he’s coming!”
At Abel’s timely appearance, Chloe turned her head.
“Oh, Abel.”
Her face brightened immediately.
Henry Biln Lutetia.
If I had to describe him in one word, it would be desert.
A vast, merciless place filled with golden sand and breathtaking sunsets.
A land so cruel that those who step into it either dry up or freeze to death.
I first met Henry when I was ten.
Neither of us knew then that we would be bound by engagement—just two children, each escaping from something else.
The small boy I remembered had become a warped man.
“It’s been a while.”
“It’s good to see you, Your Highness.”
With that sunny smile of his, Henry had a way of making the whole room feel lighter just by entering it.
His golden hair shimmered like desert sand, and his naturally curved eyes gave him a charm that drew people in easily.
It was smiles like these that made others think of him as warm, like the sunshine of early May.
“But I suppose it hasn’t been that long—after all, Deborah’s funeral was just a few days ago.”
Henry sat down casually, as if he were in his own home.
The way he claimed the seat without hesitation was very much in character for someone from the Imperial family.
“Yes. It may still be a little too soon to be discussing this kind of matter.”
I replied calmly.
Henry, now comfortably seated, gestured for me to do the same—like a host rather than a guest.
He was always someone who took control of the conversation effortlessly.
“That just shows how much Deborah’s death affected everyone.”
He was right. Whether nearby or far from Mergen, the ripples of her death would have reached many.
“Still, I must say, I didn’t expect Lady Irene to be the one handling this.”
“Is it that surprising?”
“Hm.”
“I suppose it looks better to have a direct family member involved than a retainer.”
At my response, Henry gazed at me quietly.
He was good at hiding his true feelings behind that gentle smile. But I could guess what he was thinking: he didn’t think much of Irene.
“The overall direction has already been decided by the Imperial Court, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
He didn’t even try to hide that he saw Irene as a mere figurehead.
Not that I minded. That attitude worked in my favor.
Even if this annulment brought some loss to Mergen, I had no interest in stopping it.
“Let’s go over the details now.”
I preferred handling important matters in person, face to face. Waiting on letters or messengers often just dragged things out.
At my words, Henry leaned back in his chair with a slightly amused expression.
He crossed his legs, resting his gloved hands on his knee.
“Take your time. I enjoy the tea here at House Mergen. I wouldn’t mind waiting a while.”
As if on cue, a maid entered the room with tea, hastening a bit at Henry’s words.
A teacup was placed beside the tall stack of documents in front of us.
I reached for the papers, expecting the worst.
There was one thing I had failed to consider.
What a mess. Looks like they’re coming in with every intention of cheating us.
I had never, not once in my life, done anything half-heartedly.
Negotiation is war.
And no one steps into war intending to lose.
……
In the thirty minutes I spent reviewing the documents, I found a total of seventeen clauses I wanted to amend.
Even considering the losses the family might incur due to my death, the agreement was blatantly skewed in the Imperial Court’s favor.
“Is something bothering you?”
Henry must have noticed my pause and asked casually.
“There are too many issues for me to point out just one.”
“The mine clause must be the worst of them, right?”
He must’ve noticed the one paper my hands lingered on the most.
“Setting everything else aside, the clause regarding the Berondo Mountain mine is just outrageous.”
Perhaps I felt even more strongly about it because it was something I’d worked so hard to secure.
“The Berondo mining rights were not compensation for your engagement to Deborah. They were awarded through a fair bidding process. Trying to overturn that just because of the annulment is absurd.”
I delivered my words in a rapid-fire flow without pausing for breath.
Henry took a slow sip of his tea in response, calm and unbothered—as always. I’d dealt with that infuriating composure before, so I matched it with a silent stare of my own.
“Lady Irene, are you certain the Imperial Court didn’t award Mergen the winning bid as a result of the engagement between Deborah and myself?”
The bastard.
Everyone knew the Imperial Court had offered up Berondo’s mining rights via open bidding because they didn’t want to shoulder the costs of developing the mine themselves.
The plan was to offer five years of mining rights to whoever would pay for the infrastructure.
Even so, many noble houses wanted it.
Because despite the hassle, it was sure to yield great profit. Plus, winning this time would give them an advantage in future contracts.
And of course, favoritism was expected—after all, the Imperial family would naturally lean toward the house engaged to a prince.
We were even tipped off about rival bids from other houses.
And now, after we’ve completed the infrastructure, they want to seize it back?
That’s what you call shameless theft.
“We submitted the highest bid and won fairly. What grounds are there to revoke it now? And the contract wasn’t even under Deborah’s name—it was in the families. Her death changes nothing.”
“Hm.”
Henry didn’t respond right away.
He lowered his eyes, tapped his fingers lightly on the teacup, then looked back up.
His blue gaze had changed—gone was the playfulness from earlier.
So now you’re finally willing to have a real conversation.
He spoke again.
“You’re not quite the clueless placeholder I thought.”
He was evaluating me.
If I’d been the real Irene, I’d have had no knowledge of any of this—let alone the courage to speak up against Henry.
“But Deborah’s death did cause us a great loss. Everything we were collaborating on with Mergen has collapsed.”
“Deborah died. Not Mergen.”
At my response, Henry chuckled softly.
“Do you really believe Mergen has a future without her?”
“……”
“Then I’ll have to revise how I was starting to see you.”
His tone was clearly mocking.
“Mergen was already on a downward path. That so-called mystical power of Mergen? It’s long gone. Deborah was the last one barely holding it all together. Without her, it’s obvious where this is headed.”
“You sound very confident.”
“I know Mergen well.”
“Which is why you used it so well.”
“That’s true. We made good use of each other.”
Apparently, Henry still considered us a part of that we.
A cold smile played at the corner of his lips.
“Are you trying to talk to me about loyalty now?”
Loyalty?
Between me and Henry?
“In this day and age, talking about loyalty or sentiment is just… outdated, don’t you think?”
Maybe that’s the real reason I’ve always hated Henry.
“People stay entangled only when they’re useful.”
It’s a kind of self-loathing, really.
Because we think too much alike.
“Judging from this proposal, it’s clear you’re using this opportunity to sever ties with Mergen once and for all.”
As if the Imperial Court saw no more value in Mergen.
This kind of calculated, aggressive move—it wasn’t the court’s usual style.
No, this was likely Henry’s doing.
“And didn’t you feel even a hint of my grief in that proposal?”
Henry put on a sorrowful expression, but it didn’t take much effort to see how hollow it really was.
“Even if there’s no loyalty or affection left, perhaps something else existed between her and me.”
“Something else…”
“For instance—love.”
Pfft.
I couldn’t help but scoff.
The sound escaped me before I even realized it.
