NLBWM 17

Chapter – 17

“What exactly is it that you want?”

In the reception room of Nordil Count’s mansion, a voice choked with suppressed anger filled the air.

The former Nordil Count trembled as he looked at the woman standing before him.

“You should know very well,” she replied.

Even faced with such a direct question, the woman sipped her tea casually, exhibiting manners that seemed straight out of a textbook.

Her hair was a plain brown, her eyes a common dark brown—nothing remarkable about her appearance.

‘Why do I feel such an extraordinary aura from her?’

Despite her ordinary looks, the woman carried herself with the bearing of nobility.

“Father! Don’t let yourself be swayed by a seductress! She should be locked in the dungeon immediately!”

The current Count of Nordil had learned the hard way. Every time he had flirted with a pretty woman, it had ended in trouble. Over time, he came to believe that all attractive women were deceitful, like a clichéd “femme fatale.”

Thinking that Eveline had caused the mural incident just to catch his attention, he flailed in a fury.

The former Count of Nordil sternly stopped his son.

“Quiet down.”

“But, Father!”

“I said, quiet!”

The Count’s shout was met with silence.

He had to remain careful. After all, it involved the Chekupin Wall.

What was the Chekupin Wall?

[To record the results of struggle for future generations.]

In the 740th year of the Empire, December.

Despite the bitter snowstorm, the Duke of Chekupin, after a long struggle, seized the throne.

He killed the tyrant who had oppressed the empire’s people and sought to usher in a new era. Instead of erecting a monument praising himself and his achievements, he created a wall with nothing inscribed on it and made it public.

[A wall that anyone, regardless of social status, could use.]

The lesson was clear: do not forget the era when even a single word could be censored.

The new emperor sought to respect freedom of expression, erecting a large wall in the center of the Nordil estate plaza, encouraging people of all classes to freely scribble and draw on it.

At first, the empire’s citizens were baffled by this odd request. But as the emperor and influential nobles demonstrated, interest gradually grew.

Anything written or drawn could stand, as long as the essence of existence was not diminished.

The Chekupin Wall became a lively tourist attraction—until the Nordils started charging expensive entrance fees.

“Is it proper to exploit such a meaningful monument for personal gain?”

“Mind your words! This was done to improve the estate’s image,” the Nordil Counts quickly defended themselves.

Once a golden goose, now a mere eyesore.

They could not destroy it at will, nor could they ruin its appearance.

Even the vainest nobles would have barely noticed the Chekupin Wall by now.

So, the Nordil Counts decided to both improve the estate’s image and indulge their own greed.

In truth, they had grown blind to money: charging admission for a free wall and raising local prices had brought them this profit.

“You didn’t exploit it just because it was troublesome to manage, did you?”

“Of course not!”

Though they hastily denied it, the Counts had indeed gathered artists under the pretense of repairing the wall to paint their own portraits.

Most people—scholars devoted to pure study or high-ranking nobles who memorized detailed history—were unaware of the Chekupin Wall, so they assumed it would be safe.

Yet, now, the woman standing before them had pinpointed it, using it as leverage.

“Anyway, return the Palladium.”

Demanding the Palladium with a shameless expression, the Counts’ blood pressure spiked.

“It’s impossible. And who are you to demand the Palladium?”

“Well—”

“You are of noble blood! Show some manners!”

The woman held a teacup, yet the response came not from her but from the maid of the Hetis Duke family standing behind her.

Even though it was improper for a subordinate to intervene in conversation, Sophia spoke anyway.

A noble?

In the current regime, there were very few who qualified as noble:

• The Grand Lady from the royal family
• The former Duke of Selrdian, who once ruled the North
• The Princess of Selrdian, the ruler of the North

Only these three could truly be called noble.

Could this woman be the Selrdian Princess?

Her hair and eye color differed, yet her face bore some resemblance…

No! Considering the relations between the North and South, that’s impossible!

Shaking off the thought, he reached a conclusion:

She must be a consort.

Her position wasn’t legitimate, so the maid acted as her spokesperson.

If she were a consort, she would have earned the title after notable achievements, securing a position in the Duke’s household.

Thinking along those lines, the former Count of Nordil straightened his hunched shoulders and arrogantly spoke:

“Whatever your identity, you must be punished for defacing the mural.”

He didn’t know how deeply involved the Hetis Duke was, but there was no reason for her to personally come here for a mere consort.

Thus, he ordered his knights to act.

“Damon, lock this woman in the dungeon immediately—”

“Long time no see, Count Nordil. Should I call you former Count now?”

The former Count’s words were cut short.

Cassian had appeared.

“W-What? How—!”

“I doubled the number of guards! How did you get in?!”

The Nordil Counts were shocked at Cassian’s intrusion into the supposedly impenetrable mansion.

The fortress-like defenses had been breached in an instant.

Even though they had instructed reinforcement of the area, it was too late.

Cassian collapsed beside Eveline.

He reached for the teapot.

“It seems a commotion has occurred, so I thought I’d drop by.”

The crimson tea slowly filled a pristine white teacup.

Watching him pour it with such elegance, the former Count realized the terrifying truth:

Even amidst blood and chaos, the man sipped his tea as if nothing had happened.

Why has he been so passive until now if he can penetrate here so easily?

Many questions flooded his mind, but one was certain:

The Hetis Duke could strike the Nordil household at any time, and had only restrained himself until now.

Reality finally sank in, and fear consumed the former Count of Nordil.

Is this really the end here?

Was there truly no way out?

Yet his father—he thought—

Father can do something!

“F-Father!”

Grasping at hope like a lifeline, he looked at the former Count of Nordil, who stared at Cassian like a condemned man facing his execution.

Seeing this, all hope in the younger Count’s eyes went out.

And just as even the faintest hope disappeared—

“Let us properly discuss the terms of negotiation.”

The verdict came from a predator who consumed everything in his path.