Chapter 21
Charlotte left as soon as the sun rose the next day.
Her destination was the city of Devain, not far from the capital.
“Charlotte went to Devain, huh. Not bad. There’s a lake there that Charlotte likes.”
“She has liked rivers and lakes since she was little.”
Quincy muttered in a cheerful tone as he listened to Soljeong’s report.
Judging only by his expression and tone, he looked no different from any ordinary older brother wishing his beloved sister well on her trip.
“Mm! Mmgh! Mmph!”
If not for the man tied up and struggling in front of him.
The man crawled on the floor, his mouth gagged as he cried desperately, while Quincy’s neat face looked calm—almost pleased.
The contrast was striking.
One man was fighting between life and death, while the other looked as if he were calmly enjoying tea.
“There are many flowering trees near that lake. In spring, all kinds of flower petals fall onto the lake. It’s quite a sight. Charlotte really likes that scenery.”
It would have been nice if I could have taken her there myself.
“Don’t you think so, Rohan Alois?”
The moment he finished speaking, Quincy’s polished shoe kicked the man crawling on the floor—Rohan—hard in the face.
Thud!
At the clean sound of the hit, Quincy let out a short whistle.
“That’s the pity. I thought maybe I could go see that scenery with Charlotte this spring as well.”
To think there was someone who believed he could slap Charle’s cheek and still walk away unharmed.
Quincy muttered coldly, then tilted his chin slightly.
His subordinates removed the gag from Rohan’s mouth.
As soon as he could speak, Rohan began to protest through tears.
“I—I’m innocent…! S-she seduced me first! Hitting her was a mistake! If you’re doing this just because you believed that woman, then there’s some misundersta—”
“I untied your mouth because I was curious what nonsense you’d say, but it isn’t even worth hearing.”
Thud!
Quincy’s shoe struck Rohan again.
“Rohan Alois. You’re the one misunderstanding something. Charlotte didn’t say a single word about you.”
“Ggh… th-then why…?”
“Why? I didn’t expect to hear that question. I’m her brother. Isn’t that reason enough?”
A brother should know how to handle things his sister doesn’t even mention.
Quincy’s green eyes stared coldly at Rohan.
In the air before him, a memory from the past overlapped with his vision.
Charlotte holding a handkerchief to her cheek.
And Alfonso standing beside her.
“Do you… hate me too?”
The faint voice he had heard through the door.
“…Charlotte is soft-hearted. She’s been like that since she was young. If something troublesome appears, it’s easier to just kill it—but she has never killed someone for a reason like that.”
So what choice was there?
A weak-hearted sister simply needed her older brother to step in for her.
Tap, tap.
Quincy lightly struck Rohan’s cheek with his shoe before turning away.
“Take care of him.”
“How should we handle it?”
“Do it the same way we handled Dietrich. Let him choose whether he’ll keep silent with compensation… or keep silent without it.”
Silence without compensation meant death.
Then what about silence with compensation?
A rumor Rohan had once heard suddenly flashed through his mind.
—Have you heard? Sir Dietrich was attacked by unknown assailants and lost his hand. He says he clearly remembers everything except who they were. Well, since he lost his hand, his career is basically over.
No way.
The moment terror seized Rohan, Quincy’s subordinates slowly approached with various blades in their hands.
Beyond them, Quincy smiled softly.
“I’ll personally send my regards to Lady Alois.”
“U-uh… aaagh!”
Rohan’s scream echoed loudly through the room.
Quincy listened to it with enjoyment as he walked out of the basement.
Outside, Soljeong of Noha, who had been waiting, bowed her head when she saw him.
“Young Master.”
“Ah, Sylvia. Since you’re here, I suppose the task I gave you is finished?”
“Yes. As ordered, the matter with Eduardt has been handled. They won’t fail to realize it was Noha’s doing.”
“Good work.”
Quincy smiled lightly and began climbing the stairs.
Light split across his colorless face—made only of black and white except for his green eyes, which resembled the color of absinthe, the famous strong liquor.
With a terribly calm expression, Quincy thought of the one person who irritated his nerves.
Alfonso Linus Eduardt.
What he said to Charlotte last night had been sincere.
“Don’t marry, Charlotte.”
Charlotte might not know it, but this situation was exactly what Quincy had been waiting for.
Charlotte’s nature is too soft.
He had imagined the perfect scenario:
Charlotte, unable to refuse their father’s orders, tries to carry them out—but ultimately fails and comes to him for help.
That was the ideal picture Quincy had drawn.
‘I never expected Charlotte to realize what Father had been feeding him.’
But perhaps that was even better.
What mattered was the bond between Quincy and Charlotte.
If sharing a secret made the siblings even closer, that was not a bad thing either.
However, Alfonso himself wanting to marry Charlotte—that had never been part of Quincy’s plan.
If their relationship were merely a political marriage, there would be no need to interfere.
But—
“Do you… hate me too?”
He had never heard Charlotte speak with such a voice before.
A voice afraid of being hated by someone.
‘Impossible.’
The moment he heard that voice, Quincy became certain.
Alfonso Linus Eduardt would change Charlotte.
And Quincy had no intention of allowing that yet.
‘Charlotte will surely hate me if she finds out about this.’
It couldn’t be helped.
Quincy dismissed the thought without hesitation.
There was not even the slightest trace of guilt—perfectly in character for him.
The next day, at the Eduardt Ducal Residence.
Alfonso pressed his temple and spoke.
“Let me summarize. The jewel that was supposed to be presented to His Majesty at the Founding Festival has disappeared. And judging by the circumstances, it appears to be the work of Noha. Is my understanding correct?”
“Yes, Your Grace. The day before yesterday, someone from Noha came and demanded that we produce the exact same jewel. Whether they knew what they were doing or not—”
“You don’t need to speak in circles, Ludvik. If we say they didn’t know, that would make them complete fools.”
“…Yes.”
“And Serge. You were turned away again today by Noha.”
“They looked ready to throw water on me if I didn’t leave immediately…”
Alfonso pressed his temple again and slowly closed his eyes.
Silence filled the room.
No one spoke.
Sophia, who was sitting on the sofa across from him, finally spoke with a hollow laugh.
“This is quite a spectacle…”
It was a single sentence that pierced everyone’s thoughts.
To be honest, Alfonso had believed that this time the marriage negotiations would proceed smoothly.
Why wouldn’t he?
His proposal was flawless—and even attractive at first glance.
At least, if the other party had truly been “Charlotte suffering under her family’s pressure.”
From Alfonso’s perspective, there was no reason Charlotte should refuse his offer.
‘Well, refusing is possible.’
If she wanted to be honest with someone she truly loved.
Or if the person she loved said they didn’t want it.
That would be understandable.
He had clearly said he would not force her.
He had told her not to avoid him.
He had even given her a week.
‘But did the refusal really have to come in this way?’
Why be so arrogant?
She must know he had no time.
Did she really think he was doing this simply because he enjoyed chasing after the hem of her skirt?
Alfonso felt his patience wearing thin.
When it came to Charlotte, he was always like this.
A man who was never impulsive became impulsive.
A man who treated patience as a pastime began to lose it.
For the first time since deciding to marry Charlotte, he found himself agreeing with the negative opinions around him.
“Your Grace, forgive my boldness, but please reconsider just once. I do not believe Noha is the right choice. If we must bow even when they act so openly like this, it will damage the honor of Eduardt. Therefore—”
“Enough. I understand.”
“I beg you. Noha—”
“I said I understand, Ludvik Barthelemy. Do not make me repeat myself.”
His throat burned as if he had swallowed a handful of needles.
He could not determine the cause of this unpleasant feeling.
Was it simply disgust at Charlotte’s reckless behavior, like his vassals felt?
Or was it the painful realization that he had foolishly assumed the marriage would proceed smoothly?
‘Probably the latter.’
It might be somewhat arrogant to say so, but Alfonso’s judgments had always been correct.
His strangely high success rate proved it.
But the moment he stepped away from the battlefield, his judgment quickly lost its reliability.
Human relationships were nothing like military tactics.
Still, perhaps he had trusted himself too much.
With a burning throat, Alfonso finally said,
“I will proceed with the marriage negotiations with Laveruse.”
