“That is something you don’t need to know. Just state my name and say you’ve come to retrieve the item. They’ll hand it over.”

Though Jocelyn’s expression was somewhat uneasy and hesitant, she ultimately had to nod.

“Should I depart tomorrow?”

“Yes, go early in the morning.”

She bowed as a sign of accepting the command and left Celidoi’s study with the same attitude of arrogant self-esteem as when she entered.

As she left, Jemero lowered his voice and asked, “Your Grace, what is happening all of a sudden?”

Celidoi spoke.

“Do you remember the night when Ariante and Swan slept together in my room? We discussed Negrian.”

“Of course, I remember.”

“Someone was eavesdropping on our conversation from outside the door. No, I’m not sure if they were eavesdropping. But someone was there.”

Jemero’s eyes widened.

“Is that true?”

Celidoi nodded with a serious expression.

“I saw a shadow through the crack in the door. I couldn’t catch them in the act because Ariante came out as I was about to open the door.”

“Do you think it was Mistress Jocelyn?”

“I don’t think so. Wouldn’t it be even stranger if it were her? Anyway, when Becker arrives, Jocelyn should not be here. That’s why I’m sending her to the capital. And one more thing, Jocelyn needs to lose her composure due to anger.”

Jemero looked at Celidoi with a puzzled and surprised expression. Now he realized that, while faithfully obeying Celidoi’s orders so far, he had never truly believed that Celidoi could completely crush Jocelyn. Celidoi took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He had to calm his wavering heart. Until the end.

Yes, until the end.

Meanwhile, Jocelyn walked down the corridor with a sense of wonder.

“To send me to the capital, what on earth must I retrieve?”

Perhaps it was an important item related to the Duke. Jocelyn casually brushed aside Celidoi’s intentions and felt a small satisfaction for the first time in a while.

No matter how different he may be now, and even if one cunning woman had clouded his eyes and ears, she knew she was an essential existence to Celidoi.
It’s not just Celidoi. For the sake of the vast tree called the Valternminster family, she had to exist. To catch bugs and drive away bothersome birds.

As Jocelyn turned to the corridor behind the mansion leading to her room, her expression became fiercely furrowed. Ariante, standing on tiptoe and resting her chin on the window sill, was looking down with an unusually carefree expression.

The moment Jocelyn saw Ariante, bathed in peaceful sunlight, her already precarious composure twisted abruptly. The fact that Ariante existed in this mansion, where cleanliness and nobility should always prevail, became increasingly unbearable for Jocelyn.

Because that is your sin and your disgrace.

A strange voice injected an eerie sound. However, it also felt like Jocelyn’s own voice.

Ariante was undeniably the daughter of Berbo and Liria, and Berbo was unquestionably his son. She still remembered that dreadful day as if it were yesterday.

It was a difficult childbirth compounded by severe obstinacy. Even now, after decades, the agonizing pain that lasted all day came flooding back to her when she thought about it.

The moment the birth canal finally opened, the birthing process was not easy. The previous Duchess, fervently inquiring and secretly bringing in skillful midwives, even anticipated that either the child or the mother would be in danger.

Jocelyn chewed on the torn and tattered cloth, hoping desperately. Please, please let it die.

You shouldn’t have been born.

But Berbo was born. Jocelyn fell into unconsciousness upon hearing the cries, and when she regained consciousness and could distinguish people, Berbo was already sleeping soundly in the arms of the Duchess.

[I don’t resent you, Jocelyn. I know the Duke has had feelings for you for a long time. And you feel the same way. In fact, I knew that you had wedged yourself between us. No matter how well the Duke treats me, I’ve known for a long time that you are in his heart.]

The Duchess spoke calmly towards Jocelyn, who had no strength to respond.

Jocelyn was on the verge of wanting to rise from her seat and throw herself at her feet. She had to deny it, scream that it was not true, even if it was an impossible act.

But she had no strength, not even to move a finger. Her whole body felt as if all the bones had fallen out, and everything had been drained away.

[Do you know why you tried to kill this child? You probably thought it was beneath your dignity, didn’t you? Your loyalty to the Valternminster family… is sometimes frightening to me. I won’t blame you, but still, look. The child you gave birth to. A son. Isn’t he beautiful?]