Chapter 31
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Dear, I believe you may be misunderstanding.
Episode 31
Splash—
"Ahh."
I sank into the warm water Julie had prepared for me.
A languid sigh escaped my lips of its own accord.
"...This is wonderful."
Submerging myself in the fragrant, steaming bathwater was the greatest luxury I could afford.
Though I was born the daughter of a prestigious nobleman—a marquess, no less—I had never once indulged in even a single piece of chocolate without restraint.
Everything about me was austere to the point of excess.
People called it propriety, but it was something else entirely.
Yet this frugality was not mine alone; Norman Oellin and Marquess Capren Oellin shared it as well, which led people to speak of how remarkably temperate and virtuous the Oellin Family was.
'All nonsense.'
I knew my father's true ambitions.
Though he now paraded about as if treading a moderate path, he was quietly filling the coffers of countless nobles and council elders with the money he had painstakingly accumulated.
The meaning was unmistakable.
'Feast upon my blood and flesh—my gold—and when the time comes, stand with me.'
Until he reached the position he desired, he would wear the mask of frugality and continue to squeeze Norman and me relentlessly.
Of course, he would not forget to exploit us in marriage arrangements for his own gain.
I was to marry into the Black Family, one of the kingdom's greatest dukedoms, while Norman was to marry someone from the Royal Family.
'Perhaps... Vivian, the late king's youngest half-sibling? The current king's aunt.'
A half-sister with a twenty-year age gap from the late king.
And an aunt merely a year older than Ludwig, the current King of Zeronium.
Such tangled bloodlines could easily breed discord, but fortunately, Vivian and His Majesty maintained a cordial relationship.
Perhaps it was because Vivian was a staunch spinster and a pedantic scholar who loved her studies.
The King cherished capable and wise people above all else.
I had met Vivian only once, when I received my title.
She was a woman with deep golden hair like the King's, wearing spectacles, with an intellectual and composed demeanor.
'Your contributions are considerable, Grace.'
That low, quiet voice—so unusual for a woman—still echoed in my ears as she commended me.
Marquess Capren Oellin was currently attempting to match Vivian with Norman.
'An impossible endeavor.'
I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
The two of them were fundamentally incompatible.
If they were to marry, one of them would surely die of a broken spirit.
For the sake of both—or rather, for Princess Vivian's wellbeing—I earnestly hoped they would never form any connection whatsoever.
"Well, Her Highness will surely refuse gracefully on her own."
Why should I concern myself with such matters?
I stretched my body across the spacious bath and rested my head against the rim.
"Ahhhhh. Mmm... This is absolutely divine."
My entire body melted into a sensation so exquisite that a soft moan escaped my lips.
"Bathing is the best... truly wonderful. Ahh."
Grace smiled contentedly as she submerged herself in the water up to her chin.
As the warmth enveloped me, the tension I'd felt while riding seemed to dissolve completely.
'It was truly magnificent.'
With my eyes closed, I recalled that crisp sensation of the wind rushing against my skin.
A tremendous exhilaration coursing through me from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.
A pleasure that stimulated every fiber of my being.
And the euphoria that followed after pushing my heartbeat to its absolute peak.
Grace's cheeks flushed crimson from the heat.
"Truly the best...."
If the opportunity arose, I desperately wanted to ride that horse again.
Could I ask His Excellency for such a favor?
Could I even make such a request of him?
To ride just one more time before returning home?
'Home.... Now that I think of it....'
The thought of home brought to mind the note from Elia that Julie had delivered.
[Miss, the drawer you ordered appears to have a broken lock and was left open. The documents related to the drawer have gone missing. My apologies.]
It was the sort of coded message Elia always used to warn or caution me while avoiding the eyes of Norman or Marquess Oellin.
One had only to read between the lines of the subject and object to understand.
Crafted in such a way that even if discovered, it could be easily dismissed.
Piecing it together, it meant that Norman and his friends had entered my room, the drawer had been left open, and a document inside had disappeared.
And that one document was most likely my Thomson Bank checkbook.
Sigh—
Grace emerged from the water and exhaled heavily, shaking her head.
Fortunately, Thomson Bank would never open an account without the account holder present in person, unless there was a notarized will.
They refused even Dukes and Grand Dukes.
Only the King himself could pressure them into compliance.
Because of such strictness, Thomson Bank's account fees were more than triple those of other banks, but Grace harbored no regrets.
'I was careless. I never thought anyone would dare touch my room.'
The maids assigned to attend to Grace were only Elia, Julie, and a couple of others who had served in this Estate since my childhood.
Apart from them, even the Butler was forbidden from entering my room without permission.
For years, I had strictly enforced this rule regarding access to my chambers.
Yet Norman and his friends had carelessly entered my room and rummaged through it without hesitation....
A chill ran down my spine.
The thought of them casually searching through and examining my pillow, my belongings.
'...Norman.'
Grace gently rubbed her abdomen, which throbbed with a dull ache.
After the first Duchess died, the woman Marquess Oellin took as his second wife—my mother—was not a noblewoman of this country.
She was a noblewoman from an obscure island nation, barely known by name, and Marquess Oellin had taken her as his second wife less than a year after the first Duchess's death.
Norman despised it with a passion.
He despised Grace and Grace's mother with equal fervor.
After his mother's death, Norman's hatred became singularly focused on Grace.
As his body grew, so too did the intensity of their mutual loathing.
His hatred for Grace, in particular, had grown to a terrifying degree.
'You deserve to die, Grace. You're utterly worthless!'
It didn't matter to me that Norman hated me.
But his hatred didn't stop at mere dislike—it manifested as torment.
Sometimes through violence, sometimes through manipulation, sometimes through obsession.
I could not endure it.
Norman's hatred was so obsessive that it had become insufferable and nauseating.
'How tiresome and vexing.'
I closed my eyes, my expression darkening.
'Don't touch me anymore, Norman.'
I really will bite you.
A cold glint settled over my refined features, wet with saliva.
It seemed I would need to accelerate my plans.
* * *
In Zeronium, 'information' was currency.
Particularly, information bearing the seal of the Serviente Family was a public mark of credibility.
Anyone could buy or sell information at the information bureau managed by the Serviente Family.
Nobles, commoners, foreigners—all without exception.
The Serviente Family meticulously examined and systematically preserved information.
Even false information became valuable to the Serviente Family—they knew when, where, and who had sold it.
-Never speak where the serpent has passed.
Such was the saying that had taken root in Zeronium.
A place that dealt in more 'stories' than the Royal Library itself.
The Serviente Family wielded power through 'information' alone, not through wealth or prestige.
Capren Oellin had brought his carriage to a halt before the Heath Information Bureau, directly operated by the Serviente Family.
Though it was said that one's pockets were emptied the moment you stepped inside, he was no easy mark.
The current head of the Serviente Family had only recently inherited his position—a mere stripling.
Probably around Norman's age?
Of course, he had never actually seen him.
He'd heard the man was too frail for active external duties.
So how impressive could a house led by such a sickly heir truly be?
Capren thought himself quite confident.
'I'll extract the maximum information for the minimum expenditure.'
With this resolve, he and the Butler who accompanied him stepped into the information bureau.
The moment the door opened, a woman in a neat suit turned to look at him from near the desk.
A smile was drawn on the lips of the woman who had been gazing intently at Marquess Oellin.
"Good day, sir. I am Ulias of the Heath Information Bureau. It is an honor to meet you, Marquess Capren Oellin. Would you like a consultation?"
A soft gasp escaped him.
Before the door that Marquess Oellin had opened even closed behind him, she had already spoken his name.
Marquess Oellin made an effort not to show his surprise, shaking his head with composure.
"I've come to purchase some information."
"Ah, I see. Then please follow me this way. I should mention beforehand that information can only be traded in discreet and controlled environments."
With an expressionless smile, she guided him to a room on the second floor of the Information Bureau.
Throughout the ascent to the second floor, no other staff members were visible.
It was, indeed, a peculiar place.
Ulias led him into a grand chamber devoid of windows but adorned with a painted ceiling, and seated him within.
Upon the table in the center of the room sat a steaming cup of tea, as though they had known of his arrival all along.
Ulias offered a knowing smile as she picked up paper and pen, then inquired.
"What information do you seek?"
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org