Whispering into Antara’s ear, Devon proposed a plan that would serve as revenge against the Mipidian Count who had humiliated him.

The next day, the empire’s daily newspaper featured a story about Devon being stripped and thrown out of the Mipidian Count’s estate. This article bolstered the story of domestic strife and divorce at the Buell estate.

‘Serves him right.’

Enjoying the newspaper with the rumble of the carriage as her background music, Etrisha smiled contentedly.

She then picked up the letters on the table. They were from the mining industry leaders and her uncle, inquiring about the truth behind the divorce articles.

‘Yes, of course.’ Agreeably, she drafted replies to send back. Those dissatisfied with Devon’s management would surely side with her.

She especially took care in writing to the Buell family’s chief legal advisor, well aware of their dissatisfaction with Devon’s tyranny and incompetence.

After finishing, she arranged the letters and newspapers next to her and massaged her neck.

“Ugh.”

A long journey had left her neck, hips, and back sore. She was en route to the Count’s domain at Edmond’s invitation.

Despite using portals, the journey took several hours. As she rubbed her neck, she recalled the events of a few days ago.

After Devon’s disturbance, she had expected to be thrown out, considering he might return and cause more trouble. Surely, Edmond wouldn’t risk his sister’s safety.

Ready to leave without fuss, Etrisha was surprised when Edmond, without questioning, insisted she stay. He showed slight discomfort but no outright negative feelings towards her.

So, she showed her hand, trusting Edmond completely. After all, it’s said no tree falls at the first stroke.
The barriers were still up, but the sharp edges of distrust and tension had lessened. It was like a wildcat that once glared fiercely, no longer hissing when approached.

‘I hope today brings us a bit closer.’

Suddenly, a breeze swayed the curtains, bringing a rich aroma of greenery. Pulling back the curtains revealed a dazzling sunlit view of lush vineyards. The natural beauty was breathtaking.

The Empire’s wine was not renowned. Compared to countries with vast vineyards, the Empire’s offerings were modest. Yet, among connoisseurs, the vineyard of the Mipidian Duchy was highly esteemed. Many dreamed of tasting wine made from its precious grapes before dying.

Decades ago, Imperial researchers developed a grape variety that bore fruit all year round, producing succulent pink grapes. However, they spoiled hours after harvesting, limiting their consumption to a privileged few.

Beyond the vineyards lay a small villa where the Dowager Countess of Wickley was convalescing.

Eager for the upcoming meeting, I peered outside as the carriage stopped near the villa.

Edmond, standing in front of the villa, approached and extended his hand.

“Meeting you in such a different place is quite a pleasure. Standing in the Duchy, you seem rather imposing, don’t you think?”

“Stop the nonsense and take my hand.”

His usual brusqueness. I smirked at his response, but his typically cold and guarded gaze seemed softer than before.

Edmond, who usually preferred simple attire, was exceptionally well-dressed today. His silver hair fluttered in the wind like a woman’s heart, and his calm eyes were profoundly captivating. How could one not be charmed, especially when he approached like a knight extending his hand?