At the End of Ruin, There You Are (56 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 89

Beatrice was utterly fixated on uncovering information about a trading company called , about which no one yet seemed to know anything.

She couldn’t let that arrogant fool get away with treating her merely as a nobleman’s daughter he could easily sell off—so brazenly disrespectful and insolent.

After all, that company had seized all of House Monde’s debts. She had to resolve this somehow. Just capturing that scoundrel and forcing him to kneel before her while he endured every imaginable humiliation would at least ease her fury somewhat.

His irritatingly frivolous and insolent attitude continued to provoke Beatrice. Yes, admittedly, he was a man who caught her eye—appetizing, in a way. She wouldn’t mind tasting him once or twice.

Of course, his looks were too ordinary; she’d probably play with him once or twice and then discard him. Still, men with that sort of aura weren’t common.

But the man Beatrice currently held in highest regard was undoubtedly Pheon. A man so breathtakingly handsome he stole one’s breath away, exuding that perilous, intoxicating air—such men were rare. No, they simply didn’t exist.

“Mother, wake up!”

Because of this, she’d been unbearably irritated for days. Nothing was going right at all. She’d placed binding spells on Pheon, yet ever since his marriage, he kept slipping through her fingers.

Her mother had become utterly drunk without her noticing, the Emperor clung only to the Empress, and that insolent merchant—or whatever he was—whose true identity remained unknown, was now digging into secrets nobody had cared about for ten whole years.

The prophecy she’d stolen and glimpsed in Lusenford—the one involving Caella’s poison—now lay entirely out of reach. It was maddening.

“The Crown Prince is getting engaged! We must hurry and order a dress!”

After rousing the Duchess Monde, who’d passed out drunk again last night and slept until noon, Beatrice immediately immersed herself in commissioning a new battle-ready gown.

She couldn’t possibly let her father, Duke Monde, face the company that now held their debts—and yet she’d already declared she would marry.

Anyway, if she hurriedly got fitted for a dress and made her mother’s grand return at the Crown Prince’s engagement ceremony, it would all look perfectly plausible. She could carry out the prophecy immediately afterward.

“Mother. Nobody else knows Father’s dead, right?”

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