Chapter 52
Mel confirmed Hermia’s silent signal with a resolute nod and then kicked the ground like shaking off mud from her shoes. This was followed by a loud noise similar to a gunshot, and the lock, along with its hinges, crashed into the wall.
Hermia, no longer surprised, pulled up the broken part.
“Let me get a candle.”
The long staircase leading down was increasingly dark, making it hard to see the floor. Hermia lit a wax candle and placed it in a holder before starting to descend. The creaking of the wooden stairs echoed through the deep, quiet interior. Standing on the hard floor, she felt a chill that seemed a season colder than outside.
Hermia lit the lamps on the walls, passing by dried meat and expensive spices, and sacks of flour lined up in a short corridor.
Another wooden door appeared, but Mel pushed it open without any obstacles, just like before. Suddenly, a vast wine cellar unfolded before them.
Hermia had never been this far before, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of wine bottles lined up on both sides.
“I came here a few times when I was young.”
Mel said cautiously, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
“Here?”
“Yes. Now that I’m here, memories are coming back. My father also loved wine a lot. Most of the wine here must have been brought by him.”
It seems that even though Jack Vansen was a half-brother, he shared a love for wine like a true brother.
“My father showed me around here, I think. Yes, I’m sure. It hasn’t changed much since then.”
Mel’s purple eyes wandered through nostalgic memories. Hermia looked a bit somber and rubbed her nose.
“So, my father ended up taking it all—wine and hobbies alike.”
The cellar had plaster on the walls and straw spread around to control humidity. The walls were filled with wine, and there were stacks of boxes on the floor.
Then again, there’s no way her father could have bought all this wine. The Countess wouldn’t have allowed it.
She glanced at a new box near the entrance, which was leftover champagne from her engagement party with Walter.
Listening to Mel, it seemed that maybe that was the only wine their father had brought. However, it was bought with the Duke’s money.
“Should we break the safe outside? Maybe we shouldn’t have come in here.”
Hermia asked if it was right to throw the safe away in a place filled with memories of her father, but Mel shook her head firmly.
“It’s okay. This seems like the quietest place. I’ll be careful when I throw it.”
“Okay, be careful.”
“Please step back, miss.”
Hermia left the cellar to close the entrance. As she climbed the stairs, a loud thud echoed from inside.
“I hope the floor isn’t collapsing again.”
She closed the door and descended again, only to be startled by another loud thud that made her shoulders jump. The vibration through her feet suggested that the safe had opened without issues.
“Her curse is something else…”
Now that all four curses were revealed, she became curious about the criteria for each curse. Did the author specifically choose them for each person?
Among the four—the Disaster’s Mouth, the Pervert, the Ghost, and the Dinosaur—she wondered which was the worst.
As she entered, she saw Mel crouched on the floor.
“Did you already open it?”
“Uh… miss.”
Mel turned her head without standing up and pointed downwards with her finger.
“I kept throwing it in the same spot, so the floor cracked a bit. There’s something here…”
““There’s something under the floor? But this is supposed to be the lowest level.”
Hermia approached, narrowing her eyes as she saw wooden planks amidst the broken stone fragments.
“What’s this?”
They began to clear away the dust and debris with their hands. After removing some of it, they clearly saw wooden planks similar to those used for wine boxes.
“Why would they bury wine underground? Does it make it taste better?”
The planks weren’t just in one spot; they extended further, so Mel continued breaking the cracked stone floor. Like breaking hardened clay, she chipped away at the stone, moving closer to the wine racks until Hermia stopped her.
“Mel, stop. If you break more, the shelves might collapse.”
“Ah, I got carried away and didn’t realize it.”
Mel looked around at the floor she had excavated. The center was completely destroyed.
Hermia stared at the plank she had initially cleared, then tapped on it like knocking.
“That’s strange. It doesn’t sound hollow.”
“What do you mean?” Mel asked.
Mel approached and did the same, raising an eyebrow. Hermia gazed at the suspicious box with narrowed eyes.
“It doesn’t seem like it’s filled with wine. It feels like something is packed inside… Mel, can you open the lid?”
The box was tightly packed, making it impossible to insert even a finger. Mel nodded calmly and struck the top with her fist.
“Ow!”
“Why? Are you okay?”
The thin plank broke easily, but Mel seemed to be in pain, likely from the impact of something underneath.
“Are you alright?”
Hermia asked, concerned.
As the wine bottles shattered, shards flew everywhere. Hermia’s eyes, which had been fixed on the scene below, now dimly reflected a yellow glow.
So, this was it—the broken lid revealed that it was definitely not wine. When they completely removed the plank, what appeared before them was:
“Go… go… gold! It’s gold, miss!”
The box was filled with gold bars shaped like bricks.
* * *
“Is this all the letters?”
This was a question Elisabeth asked her maid every day. The maid’s response was always the same, somewhat awkwardly.
“Yes, Princess. That’s all the letters that arrived at Saint Palace today.”
“Alright, you can go.”
Everything up to this point was routine, just like yesterday. However, Elisabeth’s expression grew darker each day.
Elisabeth tossed the four letters she was holding onto her dresser. They were all meaningless flattery from insignificant people.
“Why hasn’t she contacted me? That woman?”
The person she was waiting for had not sent any news for nearly three weeks. Elisabeth’s patience, already thin, was reaching its limit.
Should I try contacting her first? That wouldn’t be proper etiquette, though.
But maybe just this once? If I offer her money, she might accept on the spot.
How much should I offer, though? It would have to be a lot, considering she’s giving up on Walter.
How much do I have in my personal account? I’ve never really checked.
Elisabeth stared at herself in the mirror, asking herself these questions anxiously, and then rang the bell.
“Yes, Princess?”
The first rule at Saint Palace, where Elisabeth lived, was that when the bell rang, the maid had to appear before the sound stopped.
The maid waiting outside was relieved that she hadn’t been fired for being slow, which was a common reason for dismissal.
Elisabeth’s strength lay in her sincerity. She wasn’t trying to find fault or mock; she was genuinely frustrated and puzzled.
The maid’s personal issues were none of Elisabeth’s concern, as she only criticized nobles.
With an innocent face, Elisabeth asked:
“How much money does a woman need to live abroad realistically?”
The maid thought for a moment, wondering if this was another veiled threat of resignation, but decided to answer seriously.
“It depends on whether she’s a noble or a commoner. The lifestyle differs greatly.”
“…Is she a noble? Well, half-noble, maybe. Can’t you give me an estimate?”
“There’s a big difference… For example, the price of a train ticket can vary tenfold between first and third class.”
The maid trailed off awkwardly, and Elisabeth frowned.
“What’s the cheapest train ticket? Is it 100 persos? Or 200?”
“It’s 30,000 persos.”
Elisabeth was taken aback by the maid’s answer, which was far off from her estimate. The maid regretted not lying, saying something like 100 persos.
Elisabeth asked seriously:
“Then would ten million persos be enough for a commoner to settle in another country?”
“You could rent a place for about three months, but you couldn’t buy a house…”
Elisabeth was shocked.
“You can’t even buy a house?”
The maid nodded cautiously.
“You’d probably need at least 100 million persos to buy even the cheapest home.”
Elisabeth’s face froze in shock, and she gestured for the maid to leave.
She had thought ten million persos would be enough.
Elisabeth muttered to herself, then touched her forehead.
She didn’t know how to handle large sums of money or even how much she had in her account. She had never been to a bank.
If she asked her brothers, Gerald or the others, her father would surely find out and scold her harshly.
How could she get rid of Hermia Vansen without money?
“Or maybe I could find her another suitor? Someone not old and ugly, but quite decent?”
Elisabeth suddenly remembered something she had said earlier and jumped up.
Yes, that’s it! A man! I’ll introduce her to someone. The conditions won’t be as good as Walter’s, but who knows? Maybe she’ll fall in love at first sight!
Whether the Countess agrees or not, Elisabeth thought this was her only option.
She rang the bell more vigorously than before. The maid, who had left feeling anxious, returned to find Elisabeth overjoyed.
“We need to host a party for the unmarried men and women in the capital! Bring me cards to write invitations! Now!”
