Chapter: 26
Too Much Sin to Confess
“Has there been any letter from Seilbrums?”
Documents were piled high like a mountain.
From early morning, Brandon had been unable to focus on his work, clearly waiting for something. At last, as if his patience had reached its limit, he called for Cameron.
Cameron scratched his head and rummaged through the stack of letters.
“Ah, there is a letter that arrived this morning.”
“Really?”
Brandon, who had been sitting with the expression of a man bored to death, sprang to his feet.
In an instant, he closed the distance and snatched the letter from Cameron’s hand.
His eyes gleamed. It was the letter he had been waiting for.
With swift, calculated movements, he checked the name written on the envelope.
<To my one and only beloved and beautiful sister in this world, Rose.>
His gaze turned cold.
He flung the letter aside.
“Why is there not a single person who sends me a letter? I must truly be a lonely man.”
“There was a letter from Seilbrums! No, more importantly, you’ve received this many letters already, Executor!”
Cameron hurriedly picked up the discarded letter from the floor and protested.
Since dawn yesterday, countless letters had arrived for Brandon.
Not only from the capital, but from the provinces—and even from across the sea.
Yet Brandon paid them no mind.
“At this rate, will I grow old and die without receiving even one letter? To be cursed with such a tragic fate—how pitiful.”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“How strange. I clearly asked them to send it by carrier pigeon.”
He had already sunk into his own world.
“Surely my sister didn’t forget to send Dorothy’s letter by pigeon? That can’t be. I even had the nest installed on the veranda so she wouldn’t forget…”
Brandon muttered with a grave expression.
“…Surely you didn’t install the pigeon nest on Lady Kaishuner’s balcony?”
“Cameron, I am not such an inconsiderate man. Of course I installed it outside. On my sister’s balcony.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“If a letter arrives from Seilbrums, report it to me immediately. Except for my sister’s, of course.”
Having apparently recovered his mood, Brandon cheerfully made the announcement and returned to his paperwork.
With the Chairman temporarily absent, he had been overwhelmed handling official duties.
Yet even amidst the workload, he had been tirelessly digging for information about Dorothy.
And at last, I found her. The woman who appears to be Dorothy’s mother.
As expected, the name Alexia Bain had been an alias.
Her real name was Alexia Reard.
A descendant of a fallen noble house, she had once intermittently operated a trading company.
Her business acumen likely came from her experience working within that company.
Brandon had managed to find her thanks to a hint Dorothy had left behind.
That she and her mother looked exactly alike.
Using that clue, he combed through various newspapers and records—and found her.
She really does resemble Dorothy.
The only difference might be in the shape of the eyes.
Otherwise, their features were strikingly similar.
Though… is Dorothy more lovely?
If one were to compare, Alexia Reard carried a colder, more aloof air.
Dorothy’s features were sharper, and the corners of her lips tilted upward naturally.
Perhaps she had been born fair-skinned. Unlike Alexia, whose skin was sun-kissed, Dorothy’s was pale and soft.
No, no. She gave birth to Dorothy. I must show proper respect. I need to make a good impression.
Grinning to himself, Brandon bowed politely toward Alexia’s portrait.
Thus, he had succeeded in uncovering her true name.
But I still don’t know who the biological father is.
On paper, Alexia was impeccably clean.
No record of marriage.
Not even an engagement.
There were limits to what documents could reveal about relationships between men and women.
And since the person herself is gone, I can’t simply ask…
It was an exceedingly troublesome situation.
Still, he had found a small lead suggesting there might have been a father.
In the past, Alexia had abruptly closed her trading company.
Unable to secure work, she had joined the knight order at a rather late age to earn a living.
487th Knight Order Induction Ceremony.
Brandon found the name Alexia Reard on the roster of the 487th class.
“The 487th…”
It was a class renowned for extraordinary skill, still spoken of as legendary to this day.
And among them, Alexia had stood out.
Yet she left the order not long after.
That must have been when she conceived Dorothy.
Considering Dorothy’s age, the timeline aligned.
Which naturally led to a thought—
Could Dorothy’s father be among the 487th class?
“Cameron. What do you think? Do you suppose her father is among them?”
“…Pardon? His Grace the former Duke learned the sword? As expected of your father, Executor!”
“No. He held women’s hands far more often than swords.”
“……”
Ignoring Cameron’s frozen expression, Brandon smiled faintly.
Well, Dorothy’s matter was important—but—
His gaze shifted to the mountain of documents before him.
It was also time to diligently carry out the tasks entrusted to him by his “false father.”
The Grand Duke of Tavelon’s instructions to Brandon were always consistent.
First: adjust the atmosphere of the Assembly.
Ensure that no one dared raise a hand against the Grand Duke.
For now, there were no troublesome incidents.
Opposing the Chairman at present would be nothing more than foolish recklessness.
Brandon had been pruning out dissenters since he was fourteen.
And second—
Report every movement of Count Allot.
He had obeyed the Chairman’s orders without complaint.
If told to eat mud, he was prepared to pick up a spoon and do so.
But the instruction to beware of Count Allot—he simply could not understand.
Of course, he knew the Count was revered by all who bore the sword.
Ah, of course—everyone but me.
The pinnacle of knights.
A thoroughly neutral force, belonging neither to the Emperor nor the Chairman.
Yet not one who threatened the Chairman’s power.
However skilled he might be, Count Allot lacked political backing.
Unlike the Chairman, who had been born a noble and would die one.
Was the Chairman wary that the Count might side with the Emperor?
Or was there some other reason?
It was impossible to tell.
“What is this? Some obsession with a former lover?”
“Pardon? A former lover?”
“Never mind. One must respect another’s private life.”
Why the Chairman was so concerned with the Count remained a mystery.
Still, what choice do I have? If told to bark, I bark.
It was the duty of a dog to move as its master commanded.
Thanks to that, Brandon knew everything about the Count—his personal details, even his current activities.
Just then, Cameron, who had stepped outside briefly, returned holding a letter.
“Executor. A letter has arrived for you, but the sender’s name is unfamiliar.”
“I’m busy enough as it is. Who is it?”
“The name is Dorothy—”
“Hand it over.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Give it to me, Cameron. It’s mine.”
He extended his hand with a bright smile.
Moments like this made the Executor truly terrifying.
Especially when that strange obsession surfaced.
Swallowing dryly, Cameron hastily handed over the letter.
He had been noticing the name Dorothy mentioned quite often lately.
Still, it was wiser not to involve oneself in the Executor’s personal affairs.
Cameron quietly returned to his seat.
<I believe carrier pigeons are used for urgent and important matters. It didn’t seem right for me to use one so casually, so I borrowed Lady Rose’s assistance instead.>
A faint fragrance lingered on the letter.
Her scent.
<Dorothy Bain>
Brandon buried his nose against her name written on the page.
Letters were meant to be read—
And yet, even as he sniffed it, the corners of his mouth twitched upward uncontrollably.
“Have you not thrown away last week’s gazette yet?”
In Count Allot’s bedroom—where he had never once paid attention to such publications—lay a weekly paper.
“Seilbrums? That’s quite far from the capital.”
“Leave it.”
He could not bring himself to discard it.
Cough, cough.
The Count coughed, sipping the tea his adjutant had brought, and stole a glance at the paper.
“Have you taken up collecting things lately? First a cold, now weekly gazettes.”
“What is your business?”
“The Chairman’s dog.”
The adjutant explained succinctly.
“Duke Kaishuner has been eyeing this territory repeatedly.”
“Let him eye it. He cannot seize it merely by looking.”
“It’s unpleasant enough that he’s digging into your information. Now he’s even prowling around the estate. He has no intention of starting anything, yet he insists on being a nuisance…”
It was Brandon’s habit.
To deliberately leave traces—warnings that he was watching.
In that case, there was only one response.
After a long silence, the Count finally spoke.
“If a neighborhood pup covets this territory…”
He absently ran his fingers over the gazette.
“Then we have no choice but to stir up his territory in return.”
