Chapter 6
“How exactly am I supposed to help my brother?”
Eliana’s carefully composed expression hardened.
“Elbaut’s business will benefit if you… speak well of him to His Grace.”
“……”
Eliana was at a loss for words. This was too much.
‘Shouldn’t they at least ask how I’m doing first?’
If she was truly their daughter, shouldn’t they ask about her health?
Whether she was adjusting well in the Duke’s estate?
“Given the circumstances, maybe fur or jewelry isn’t ideal. Importing and distributing southern specialties might be more profitable.”
“Oh yes, dear! Pink pearls from the southern seas, or blue coral, or even salt—those would be wonderful.”
The Baroness eagerly chimed in, her eyes gleaming.
“Jewels and salt are trivial.”
“What do you mean, dear?”
“The South’s greatest product isn’t such trinkets—it’s the cannons produced by House Ascher.”
The Baron’s voice lowered with greed.
These cannons, manufactured by the Duke’s estate, were prohibited from export without Imperial approval.
Had the old Duke still been alive, the Baron wouldn’t have dared suggest such a thing. But now, with Michalis as Duke, he spoke boldly.
“Convince the Duke to grant us exclusive rights to distribute those cannons in the North.”
“No.”
Eliana cut him off instantly, her tone icy and sharp. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Why should I do that?”
She had begun to think this virtual world might not be so bad—but this conversation ruined her mood.
“Ha! You’ve gotten bold now that you’re about to become the Duchess.”
The Baron’s face reddened with anger.
His once-docile daughter, who used to say nothing but “yes,” now dared to talk back.
“Am I really your daughter?”
Eliana stared directly at him, her voice flat.
“What did you say?!”
“Elia! What are you talking about?!”
Both parents shouted at once, startled by her question.
“If I were truly your daughter, you’d at least have asked if I’m well.”
Eliana sighed, resignation in her voice.
Five minutes into this meeting, and they had already exhausted her patience.
“If you’ve said all you needed, I’ll be leaving now.”
Perhaps they didn’t know about the suicide attempt, but she had thought they might at least show a sliver of regret for sending her off like cargo. That, too, was wishful thinking.
She rose from her seat.
She had no intention of speaking another word with these two.
“I’ll see you at the wedding, Father, Mother.
And I hope when we meet again, I won’t have to hear anything like this again.”
Her years of part-time jobs had taught her one truth—there’s no reasoning with unreasonable people.
You don’t fight filth—you avoid it.
“You insolent girl! Sit down immediately! I’m not finished!”
Fuming, the Baron shouted at her as she turned away.
“My dear, calm yourself! Elia, what’s gotten into you? Listen to your father.”
“I’ll listen when he says something worth hearing.”
Eliana sighed, unimpressed by her mother’s dramatics.
“What?!”
The Baron could no longer hold back. He leapt to his feet, face red with fury.
“You sold your daughter like expensive merchandise—be satisfied with that and stop asking for more!”
Eliana locked eyes with him, unflinching despite his rage.
The original Eliana was gone. If she didn’t draw the line here, she’d be chained to them forever, unable to escape even when the system restored.
“You’ve truly gone mad!”
Before her words had fully left her lips, the Baron’s hand flew into the air.
“You ungrateful brat! Have you forgotten everything we’ve done for you?!”
To think he had raised her, arranged for her to become Duchess—and now she dared defy him? He had to teach her a lesson before she became too unruly.
“Baron Acklera!”
A thunderous voice halted the Baron’s hand in midair.
Michalis had approached without a sound.
“What is the meaning of this?”
His voice was cold as ice, and his piercing blue eyes were fixed on the Baron’s raised hand.
“Who do you think you are?!”
Angered by the sudden interruption, the Baron turned to face him.
He saw a tall, well-built man striding toward them.
Plain white shirt, a simple sword at his waist—just another knight from the estate, surely.
“This is a family matter. Get lost and mind your own business.”
A mere knight daring to interfere in the household affairs of the future Duchess?
Judging by his clothes, the Baron dismissed him instantly.
“Your Grace…?”
Eliana’s voice trembled slightly with surprise.
It had been over a month since she last saw him this close.
“Ah… you’re the Duke.”
The Baron flinched, quickly lowering his hand.
He coughed awkwardly, trying to mask his guilt.
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Haiten Acklera, Baron and your future father-in-law.”
“And I am—”
“Was it not enough?”
Michalis cut off the Baroness coldly.
“…Excuse me?”
“A chest of gold, a chest of pink pearls, a chest of blue coral, and three wagons of salt.”
Michalis’s tone was chilling as he listed the excessive dowry the Baron had received.
He had only discovered the shocking sum after his father’s death.
“T-That… that can’t be…”
Pale-faced, the Baron quickly hid his hands behind his back.
“Baron Acklera, do you know why our House sought your family for this marriage?”
“Well…”
He swallowed his answer.
When he thought the old Duke was the groom, he believed it was because his daughter’s appearance matched the Duke’s tastes, which explained the lack of a requested dowry.
“……”
But if it had always been the young Duke, then…
He had no idea why this marriage proposal came about.
“High-ranking nobles see marriage as an alliance.
They begin as allies and delude themselves into thinking they are equals.
Eventually, they seek to claim our rights, or worse, interfere in our military command.”
Michalis’s voice was stern and unwavering.
“Privileges can be divided endlessly, but security cannot.
House Ascher does not seek gain through marriage—we are not so weak as to need it.”
Marriage was merely a formality—a means to secure a legitimate heir.
Rather than waste time countering interference from powerful in-laws, it was strategic for House Ascher to choose a low-ranking family to ensure no external meddling. It was a simple, effective tactic.
“Did you say… cannons?”
Michalis’s voice was laced with fury.
The Baron, who hadn’t given his daughter so much as a dowry, now dared to demand weapons?
“I—I… I misspoke.”
The Baron stammered, unable to form a proper excuse.
“Can your barony bear the weight of military power?”
Maintaining military command required astronomical funding.
Exclusive rights to salt distribution and cannon manufacturing were privileges granted to House Ascher by the Emperor as reward for defending the Empire.
“……”
The Baron fell deathly silent.
The mere mention of ‘military power’ had crushed him beneath its weight.
“If you have even a shred of sense, Baron, know your place.”
Michalis’s words were cold and contemptuous, his disgust naked and unfiltered.
“If you cannot shoulder the responsibility, do not dare covet anything of House Ascher—be it property or person.”
His gaze shifted to Eliana.
“Nothing—no one—is yours to exploit.”
He could now understand why she looked like she might cry.
Her family was appalling.
The rage he had kept buried beneath duty started to seep out.
“Y-Yes… I understand…”
The Baron, who had lived his whole life as a merchant, had no defense against the lethal aura of a man who had wielded real swords since the age of seven.
“Your Grace—no, I mean… my Lord Duke…”
The Baron had expected a young man he could easily handle—but instead, found himself facing a predator.
Looking into Michalis’s piercing blue eyes, the Baron’s body trembled uncontrollably.
‘What a pair of lunatics.’
Ignorant and shameless.
Michalis bit back a curse as he watched the shivering couple before him.
“If you plan to remain in the inner castle until the wedding, then stay out of my sight.”
“Y-Yes, of course!”
“Understood, perfectly!”
The Baron and Baroness bowed deeply, terrified by Michalis’s palpable bloodlust.
“You may leave.”
“Y-Yes, yes!”
Pale-faced and trembling, the couple clung to each other and scurried out of the garden, fleeing from his presence.
Eliana sat in stunned silence, staring at Michalis.
Should she be grateful… or offended that he had humiliated her family?
“…What are you wearing?”
Just as Eliana was finding words, Michalis spoke again—and her faint gratitude shattered.
“What I’m… wearing?”
Of all things, clothes? Now?
It was so random, she didn’t know how to react.
“It looks stifling.”
Michalis’s voice was tight with frustration.
In this oppressive heat, she was covered from neck to toe.
The sight reminded him too much of a mother he could barely remember.
“This is summer wear in the North.”
‘It’s not like I have anything else to wear…’
It wasn’t her choice.
She hated this outfit, but the last bit of money her family gave her had barely been enough to pay Amy’s wages.
“…Fine.”
He sighed heavily.
She’d looked like she might cry just moments ago, and now her brows were knit in irritation.
Still, she seemed better off than when she was with those vultures.
“I’ll see you at the wedding, then.”
After watching her for a few seconds, Michalis turned away.
Her clothes, though made of light fabric, looked confining, her lack of jewelry or adornments… oddly bitter to witness.
“Yes… see you at the wedding.”
Eliana stared at his retreating back.
He helped her, then left with a pointless jab about her outfit?
‘What was that—did he come here to pick a fight?’
‘What a strange man…’
She shook her head in disbelief, watching his broad back disappear.
“Mobilize the entire navy. We begin unscheduled sea training—immediately.”
Back at the main residence, Michalis burst into the adjutant’s office.
“Sir? Did you say… now?”
Iadis, buried in paperwork as usual, was thunderstruck.
“Your Grace… the wedding is in three weeks.”
Training at a time like this?
It was unthinkable.
“If we begin now, the minimum is a week at sea—”
“This is a military order.”
“Y-Yes, sir! Understood!”
Iadis, ready to argue, froze at the weight of the word ‘order’, and could only obey.
“All personnel must be assembled within an hour.”
“Yes, sir!”
Saluting, Iadis bolted from the room to relay the command.
Left alone, Michalis crossed the room and opened the door to his private office—a space clean and meticulous, faintly scented with paper and ink.
He stepped in, reached for the two pull cords beside his desk, and yanked them simultaneously.
