Translator: Nox

Ch#54

“How much does he owe?”

The Grand Duchess’s question rang out in the shadowed alley, leaving the man staring in bewilderment.

Collecting from those two young sisters proving so troublesome had caught everyone off guard—they were steadily chipping away at their father’s gambling debts.

Whenever a collector approached, burly locals from the area would shove them back.

To dodge the trouble, they’d arrived ahead of schedule, under cover of night when the taverns kept most men occupied.

Yet here they were, face-to-face with armored knights and a Grand Duchess?

His puffy, battered eyes struggled to focus after the thrashing, but the poised woman at the desk exuded commanding presence.

“M-money…”

He forced the word past his split lips, striving for clarity to avoid angering nobility.

“What did he say?”

Irritation creased the Grand Duchess’s brow. The bound man hurriedly thrust a hand into his vest pocket.

“The debt…”

“Sir Norton.”

Unmoved, the Grand Duchess summoned her knight.

Sir Norton—the very one who’d roughed him up just short of death the previous night—approached.

“Eek!”

The man recoiled instinctively as Norton’s hand dipped into his jacket.

With a tsk of disdain, Norton extracted a wad of documents and presented them to the Grand Duchess.

As she flipped through the pages, she inquired, “What’s the father’s name?”

“Karon, Your Highness,” Leta replied, her voice tight with anxiety.

There it was: the contract bearing Karon’s name.

Satisfied with the sum listed, the Grand Duchess jotted a note in her checkbook, ripped out the check, and handed it to Norton.

Norton crammed it forcefully into the man’s pocket. Without pause, the Grand Duchess shredded the debt document.

“Karon’s debt is cleared.”

“Y-Your Highness…” Leta gasped, stunned.

The Grand Duchess fixed the man with an icy stare.

“Stay away from those girls forever.”

“Th-thank you… Y-Your Highness…”

Relief sparked in the man’s gaze at the prospect of real payment. But then—

“Don’t forget this.”

She leaned in, her tone dropping to a menacing whisper.

“Anyone who lends to Karon again will regret it deeply.”

Her gaze flicked to Norton.

“What was it you mentioned the other day? About the staff processing monster remains at the Grand Duke’s estate?”

“Dozens of them, experts who can butcher a lesser creature to the bone in moments.”

Norton scanned the man head to foot.

“Indeed? Perhaps we skip waiting for a repeat offense—”

“I-I understand!! I swear!!”

The man yelped in terror, clamping his eyes shut.

“And you? Not a word?”

“Ugh…”

The Grand Duchess eyed the second captive, even more battered, who managed only a pained moan.

“Release them.”

With a weary exhale, she issued the command.

The guards hauled them away, and the man finally breathed freely.

Monster butchers?!

Shivering as they dumped him beyond the Grand Duke’s estate, his street-sharpened survival sense roared a single warning:

Keep clear of those sisters for good.

No matter how desperate times got, he’d never touch Karon’s debts again.

---

“I hope they’re not total fools,”

The Grand Duchess muttered as the door swung shut.

“Your Highness…”

Leta collapsed to her knees, her words trembling.

“How can I ever repay such grace…”

“Stop that. On your feet—you bow too much.”

I shook my head, unease flickering across my face.

“Word of the Grand Duchess’s maid harassed by lenders would tarnish my image. This safeguards my standing, so save your thanks.”

“I’ll repay you, even if it takes my lifetime!”

“Unnecessary. Consider it years of wages upfront. Just redouble your efforts and stay diligent.”

Relief washed through me inwardly.

The Grand Duke’s personal allowance had proven a godsend.

What gnawed at me was sending her home alone through the gloom.

I’d dispatched Norton as escort, and he’d returned with two bound thugs—moneylenders terrorizing the girl.

My stomach had twisted hearing they’d yanked her hair.

Only then did Leta confess: her father’s gambling had piled up debts so vast the interest alone crushed her.

Norton claimed he’d “disciplined” them through the night, yet a dull ache lingered in my heart.

I recalled Leta once meticulously sorting documents—I’d found it strange but hadn’t pried.

Without this clash, her plight might have stayed hidden.

Had I grown too detached from those nearby?

Posing as a noble leader, ignorant of my long-serving staff’s names—did that make me no better than my past world’s callous executives?

As those somber reflections resurfaced—

“I’ll dedicate my life to your service!”

Meeting Leta’s tear-glazed eyes snapped me from it, dissolving yesterday’s guilt like mist.

‘Self-reproach at every mishap—such a foolish trait.’

Adapting to this realm taxed me enough. I was trying.

Helping where I could mattered more than perfection.

I’d eased Leta’s load substantially. That counted as success.

“Fine. That settles it.”

Her expression bloomed through tears into a radiant smile.

In that instant, I knew without doubt:

Leta was mine now—truly.

---

A drab, overcast dawn broke.

“What’s that?”

I cocked my head at the envelope Leta presented.

House Fasie’s crest gleamed familiarly upon it.

“A response from Ferdinand, perhaps?”

“No… from the Marquis of Fasie,” Leta said, face souring.

Mine mirrored hers in an instant.

“A letter? Now, of all times?”

I ripped it open bare-handed, skipping any opener.

The opening line dripped absurdity.

“To my dearest Annette?”

What?

Chills prickled my skin from those words alone.

“Leta, water—quick.”

I gulped down the glass she fetched, drawing deep breaths before daring another glance.

“To my cherished Annette,

Your abrupt departure without farewell has wounded your father deeply. I’d hoped for a note to ease your family’s fears…”

‘As if—the man who skipped his own daughter’s wedding.’

Brushing off the manipulative drivel, I reached the letter’s core at the end:

“…Life in the unforgiving North must chafe after the capital’s comforts. I’ll dispatch your former maids and staff. Upon receipt, procure a Grand Duke’s invitation.”

I huffed, flinging the paper onto the desk.

Seriously?

An invitation?

The Marquis’s gall knew no bounds.

That “invitation” meant an official pass.

Blenheim entry demanded special clearance.

Beyond the second wall to the Grand Duke’s castle required one bearing his seal.

Even royalty complied.

‘Didn’t the Marquis author that decree himself?’

I recalled my arrival by coach at the Grand Duke’s castle.

Our Blenheim carriage sailed through. Trailing merchants endured rigorous scrutiny.

— “Invitation required?”

— “Absolutely, past the second wall. It leads straight to the castle.”

‘Without our group, I’d have been turned away.’

Curious about the stringent measures, I’d quizzed Perel then.

Was the Grand Duke at risk?

— “The invitation isn’t local custom. It’s a capital royal edict.”

— “Royal? Why?”

Perel fidgeted, glancing about until it clicked.

— “The Marquis?”

‘Precisely, Your Grace.’

Silence hung between us.

Mortification had burned me then.

Nobles rarely called uninvited anyway, but codifying it chilled the castle’s aura, sealing it shut.

‘How low will the Marquis stoop to needle the Grand Duke?’

Such a law screamed pettiness—demanding an invite so brazenly? Pure farce.

‘Though that asinine rule arms me now.’

“Leta, stationery.”

“Practice sheets as well?”

“No. This needs no rehearsal.”

My reply burned clear in my mind.

The Marquis cloaked his letter in feigned worry against prying eyes, but I owed no pretense.

Leta supplied the paper; I dashed off the response swiftly.

“Deliver this to the Marquis of Fasie.”

I sealed it with my signet and passed it to a footman.

Right on cue—

“Your Grace! It’s arrived!”

Cecilia barreled into the chamber, breathless.