Eriel, having changed into a dress, sat in front of the mirror.

Smeared lipstick and disheveled hair decorated Eriel’s face in disarray.

Perhaps because of the tightly tied ribbon on the front of the beautiful crimson dress, Eriel’s breath felt constricted.

Taking a deep breath, her breathing trembled. Biting her quivering lower lip for no reason, Eriel closed her eyes tightly.

Jerald Shannon was a friend who often came to play and visited when Eriel was very young.

Eriel’s father, the Marquis of Borgese, was politically on the emperor’s side, but in fact, he didn’t care whether it was the noble faction or the emperor faction as long as it made money, so he placed great importance on his friendship with the wealthy Count Shannon.

Naturally, Eriel’s father used Eriel to maintain that friendship.

It was because Jerald Shannon, the only son of Count Shannon, was a man.

Eriel had been beautiful since she was young, and Count Shannon sometimes smiled contentedly when he saw that Jerald and Eriel got along well.

One time when they were young, Jerald and Eriel were lying together on a hill.

“I really don’t like the idea of political marriage.”

Jerald’s bright hazel eyes frowned.

“Political marriage? Really?”

Eriel tilted her head. It was because Eriel had never once questioned political marriage.

“Eriel, do you think it’s right to marry a man chosen by your family?”

Jerald asked, turning his body to look at Eriel.

His snow-white face instantly turned red as he faced Eriel, and he looked a little dejected. However, Eriel blinked and shrugged her shoulders.

“Well… But it’s because of my family that I exist. Marrying a man chosen by my family is only natural for me, born as a young lady of the Marquis of Borgese.”

“…Does it not matter who it is? Even if you have to live with a husband you don’t like?”

“Hmm…”

Jerald’s intense eyes turned towards Eriel.

His slightly furrowed brows and seemingly roughened breathing.

Eriel thought that while he had a negative view of political marriage, his family must have pressured him to have a political marriage.

It was something Eriel considered very natural, but Jerald might not like it.

Recalling her father’s words, Eriel smiled brightly.

His words to get along well with Jerald.

“If I really had to choose someone I wanted, I think it would be nice if it were Jerald. But I’ll probably marry the man my family chooses. My tiny thoughts can’t be above my family, right?”

So Eriel chose the way of speaking she often used.

Everyone liked it when Eriel made a choice for them. So if Eriel had a choice, she would say she would choose Jerald.

After that, Eriel said what she wanted to say. Fortunately, there were no lies.

So it was even easier. The sincerity of a child who didn’t know what love was.

“…Really? If Eriel could really choose, would you marry me?”

“Yes, of course. Jerald.”

Eriel nodded her head, feeling good as she watched his expression brighten.

“Sigh…”

Eriel, sighing, pressed hard near her temples. The Jerald in her memories was like that… Jerald.

Only now could Eriel understand why the young Jerald had told her he disliked political marriage, but the Eriel back then couldn’t have thought that way.

“My lady?”

As Eriel’s breathing faltered, the maid quickly loosened the ribbon that had been tightening behind her back.

“Are you alright?”

“…Yes. I’m fine.”

Eriel told the maid she was okay and slowly exhaled.

“I’ll keep the string loose until I finish fixing your makeup.”

“Okay.”

Eriel nodded.

*

Count Scala, walking down the hallway, suddenly turned around.

Clearly, there was no one in the hallway except for his assistant, but a strange feeling washed over him.

He thought, ‘Oh no, I yelled too loudly while walking down the hallway because I was so furious.’

“Let’s go to the mansion and finish listening.”

Count Scala, who was listening to his assistant’s report, gave him a look.

“Yes. I will return to the mansion and finish reporting. Then, how should I convey it to the Countess and Edward?”

The assistant, understanding the look, naturally moved on to another question.

“Tell them I went back because I was busy. And make sure to tell them not to draw attention in the banquet hall.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Count Scala glanced at the imperial palace corridor and turned around.

An empty corridor, his instincts screamed. Don’t talk any more here.

*

Returning to the mansion, Count Scala sat in the quiet study, lost in thought for a moment.

Although no evidence could be gathered, it was clear that Bruno was dead.

If he wasn’t dead, he wouldn’t have sent Lady Jessica to testify like that.

Moreover, when he recently tried to investigate Bruno, who was said to have arrived as an envoy to the Eastern Continent using his men… it was blocked at every turn.

It wasn’t just the level of the investigation being blocked. None of the men sent out came back alive.

“To be able to cooperate with the Eastern Continent Empire in such a short time. How is it blocked at every turn! His status must have been high not only within the empire. Well, Damian’s existence wouldn’t be bad in other countries. If there’s a figure who can lead a rebellion within the empire, it’s only Damian.”

Count Scala, wrinkling the bridge of his nose, stroked his beard.

“Then is it true that his leg was injured?”

Count Scala extended his doubts to that point.

“If you say your leg is injured, it will inevitably arouse sympathetic public opinion anyway. If you say you were injured while trying to protect your half-brother, it’s not easy to say anything. Even if he was really injured, it could have been on purpose.”

As his thoughts jumped that far, Count Scala’s stomach churned again.

Nothing could be certain about what was related to Duke Damian.

It was something Count Scala had caused, but he couldn’t read Damian’s moves.

Count Scala, trembling with anger, slammed the table with a bang.

“Ugh… Urgh!”

Count Scala let out a short groan as he slammed the table. As he slammed it, the friction between the inside and surface of the glove caused tremendous pain.

Some time ago, the place where he had changed the pattern of three dots healed slowly while staying inside the leather glove for a long time.

Count Scala carefully took off his glove.

The burned back of his hand was hideously reddened. Droplets of blood formed on top of the newly growing flesh.

Tossing the glove away, Count Scala leaned back in his chair and frowned.

“Phew…”

Count Scala, taking deep breaths due to the unabated pain, soon rummaged through the drawer and put a cigar in his mouth.

At least when he smoked a cigar, he felt like the pain subsided.

Knock knock.

“Count.”

At the assistant’s voice, the count curtly ordered him to come in.

The assistant entered the room with an armful of reports tucked under his arm.

It seemed to be the plans to be used in the hunting festival.

Count Scala watched the assistant approach him while sucking on the cigar.

The papers were laid out one by one on the desk.

“These are some of the plans I devised for the hunting festival.”

Count Scala picked up the first paper.

“It’s a method of installing traps at certain points of the hunting festival venue. The traps are intended to inflict fatal wounds on Duke Damian, but since he has been on the battlefield for so long, he seems to be aware of all the common traps, so it won’t be easy to find new traps.”

The count’s brows instantly furrowed as he looked at the paper.

“This won’t work. It’s not enough for Damian to just die. Our goal is not to just grant him death. We need to completely bring down his honor and the reputation he has built up until now.”

Count Scala blew out the cigar with a puff and then sucked on it again urgently.

With the grayish smoke, the first paper flew to the floor.

“But… the main agenda was to inflict fatal wounds first at the hunting festival. Instead of killing him, we should restrain his movements and then gradually seek ways to tarnish his reputation. If you, Count, shake the internal public opinion of the emperor’s faction and expel Damian…”

Count Scala, who was listening to the assistant’s story, frowned again.

“Do you think it’s easy to shake internal public opinion and expel him like that!”

The count, who stubbed out the cigar on the desk, glared at the assistant.

“I apologize. It’s just one of the things we discussed because it’s something you do so well, Count.”

“Sigh… Can’t you figure it out from this incident? Figure it out! Of course, we have to wage a public opinion war. But look at Duke Damian. Even though he’s recuperating at the ducal residence right now, he made it seem like Bruno was alive using Jessica. Is that all? The Eastern Continent Empire listened to none other than Damian’s story. Do you think that makes sense!”

Count Scala lost his composure and abruptly stood up from his seat.

He had just stubbed out the cigar, but he took out another one from the drawer and let out a long sigh.

A slight anxiety was reflected in Count Scala’s eyes as he lit the cigar with a candle.

The assistant immediately looked down at the second paper.

“The second is to hire mercenaries one more time…”

As soon as the assistant spoke, the count threw the cigar he had just put in his mouth on the floor.

“This, this…! Isn’t this a report that can be brought up even if we discuss it right now? Where are you using your head!”

“I apologize.”

“What’s the third one!”

When Count Scala asked about the third report, the assistant quickly picked up the paper.

“This seems even more nonsensical. I will seek better methods before the hunting festival.”

As the assistant tried to hide the third one, Count Scala, already furious but closing his eyes tightly to suppress his anger, gestured.

“Just tell me what it is first.”

“Well…”

The assistant hesitated and then put down the paper containing the third report.

“It’s a honey trap operation. But this probably won’t work either. I’m sorry. I’ll quickly find another plan…”

That’s when it happened.

“Honey trap?”

Count Scala’s voice, which had been yelling, lowered again.

Putting the cigar he was puffing on between his fingers, the count lowered his gaze to the third paper.