17. The Scoundrel of the World

2023.10.17.

“Whiiiiz— Confirm kill!”

“Get out!”

After sending off the bewildered butler, Clade Euphris collapsed heavily into his chair.

His outstretched hands barely supported his golden head, overwhelmed by the sudden news.

“This can’t be real.”

“Everyone agrees except you—why deny it? What’s so shameful? This is only natural between a married man and woman.”

The chattering voices of maids outside the window tormented his ears further.

Shameful rumors, unpleasant beyond measure, seeped through the walls, pricking at his already troubled mind.

They say the mistress’s pained voice reached even the first floor. In contrast, not a single cry from the master could be heard. How long has it been since the master slept so deeply this late into the night? They say the mistress looks pale and exhausted. How intensely must it have been…

***

Eddie Rev, who had silently observed Clade’s reaction, finally spoke.

“You acted too hastily, Clade Euphris. It’s difficult when you do this without consulting us. We left you alone because you always managed well on your own, yet now you’ve even provided proof of consummation to the royal court. You can’t imagine how shocked I was hearing that news at dawn.”

“Eddie, Clade is a man too.”

Lancelot chimed in, pretending to take Clade’s side.

“He’s only gone through eight wives or so. What’s wrong with that? He’s been a bachelor until now. Besides, he consummated the marriage and his wife didn’t run away? Isn’t that perfect destiny?”

“One person with a mind full of flowers is more than enough—yourself, Lancelot.”

At Eddie’s sharp retort, Lancelot scratched his ear and added,

“Your bedroom skills have become so famous the entire estate is buzzing. You must have outsourced them. It makes no sense that my cousin and friend, Lancelot Rev, would be stone-still in bed.”

The more explicit Lancelot’s words became, the more Clade’s face turned ashen.

The strangely excited atmosphere of the mansion.

The chattering maids and, between them, that woman’s shy voice.

That they could walk around so casually, even after seeing his condition worsen at night, was only possible under one assumption—that they truly did consummate the marriage last night.

Only with that confidence could she laugh and chatter so freely…

“But seriously, it’s not a lie—your face really does look better. Take a look. Eddie, you too.”

Who knows why a man would carry a hand mirror, but Lancelot smirked as he approached and held it up.

As Lancelot said, the grotesque half of his face remained unchanged, but the other side strangely seemed more alive.

“Surprised? The dark shadows of fatigue under your eyes have almost vanished. See? I told you—you were just tired from lacking a woman.”

“Get out.”

“Me? Not Eddie—me?”

Lancelot made a “Huh?” sound, pointing at himself with his finger.

That repulsive expression made Clade even angrier.

“See? I was right. Now that you’ve truly found your match, your face has improved dramatically. It happens sometimes when you meet the right person—rare, but it does. Look, you’re not even mentioning nightmares anymore. Haven’t had any bad dreams? Of course—people need proper physical activity, whether by day or by night…”

“Ridiculous.”

“Love’s power truly is amazing—”

“Love?”

Clade laughed, as if utterly astounded.

One corner of his lips curled upward crookedly.

Lancelot stepped back, realizing his mistake.

Clade’s irritated gaze suddenly grew distant, like an endless abyss.

A mistake.

“I love no one. You know that.”

Lancelot, staring at Clade’s gloomy smile, acknowledged his error and sighed deeply.

Clade glared at Lancelot’s retreating back as if it belonged to his ninth bride.

Eddie closed the bedroom door with a heavy sigh.

***

Evening arrived quickly.

Clade, trying to clear his tangled thoughts, decided it was better to confront the person directly rather than be swept up by absurd rumors.

He had just heard from the butler that the uninvited guest had begun actively wandering the estate starting today.

Since the snow had finally stopped, his guess that she might be in the garden again, as before, turned out to be correct.

Leaning against the window, Clade waited for the intruder. The moment he saw Yuan Pelliese appear in the garden without even a single attendant, he roughly flung the window open.

The woman stood there, wearing only a thin shawl despite the winter cold, blankly staring at the garden shrubs.

It was hard to understand why she would gaze at a winter garden devoid of even a single flower, poorly maintained at that—but Clade had more pressing matters on his mind.

“Hey.”

It was a terribly rude start.

But he owed no courtesy to a woman who, against his will and entirely of her own doing, had already provided proof of consummation just by standing at his door.

His headache was growing worse—he needed to end this quickly.

At the “Hey,” the small figure flinched slightly, then slowly turned toward him.

A deeply frightened expression.

Yet Clade was now certain this fear wasn’t due to his hideous half-face.

Having seen his appearance twice already, her ability to walk around so normally meant one of two things—either she was blind, or she had an incredibly strong stomach.

“Do you have something to say to me?”

He decided to give her one last chance—the final opportunity to confess the truth and leave on her own.

But except for a brief flinch, she remained perfectly still, looking straight up at him.

As if, despite her fear, she was determined to speak her mind.

Unaware that he could see her cheek trembling faintly.

“You said anyone useful in this estate could stay.”

She was quick to understand.

To his question, she immediately responded with this—clearly having inferred from his tone that he wanted her gone.

“Don’t you remember? Thanks to me, you slept well last night.”

Clade quickly scanned her tired face with his eyes.

The absurd assumption felt terrifyingly close to reality, sending chills down his spine.

The maids’ and Lancelot’s chatter about a “fierce consummation” wildly scrambled through his mind.

The horror was worse because he remembered nothing at all.

“Don’t pull such nonsense. There’s no way I could’ve done that.”

“Shall I help you remember?”

He shook his head in denial of reality, but she immediately replied.

Her face looked genuinely pitiful, as if deeply hurt, and her large, dark eyes were filled with委屈.

For a moment, he felt exactly like the world’s greatest scoundrel.

***

The Pelliese estate, after Yuan Pelliese’s departure, outwardly appeared no different from usual.

Compared to the modest lifestyle of the previous count and countess, it was now filled with glittering, beautiful decorations, and with many servants relative to its size, it remained consistently clean.

But the internal situation was different.

“Do you think I’d come all the way here personally if not for desperation? My father now refuses any treatment unless it’s from a Pelliese—he won’t even take medicine. What am I supposed to do? And when I tried to understand, thinking he was unwell, just look at the count’s face now! His complexion is excellent—can he really be sick?”

“Exactly. Since yesterday, the weekly medicine we used to receive has suddenly stopped. What are we supposed to do? Every servant we sent was chased away. I came here myself, riding my horse. Count, do you know how much gold our family has poured into the Pelliese name?”

“Our investment? While my son suffered a terrible riding accident, requiring eight stitches on his face, what exactly were you doing, Count, locking your estate gates tight? After receiving that much gold, shouldn’t you at least deliver what was paid for?”

The Count Pelliese, who used to host guests in his study’s side room almost daily, now watched as nobles who once begged just for an appointment suddenly changed, rushing like madmen to this remote estate over just a few days of closure.

Because he had categorized guests strictly by their investment amount, the wealthier nobles couldn’t endure even a brief shutdown.

“Come now, please calm down. Haven’t I been overworking myself lately? I only have one body. The Academy keeps summoning me here and there for academic festivals and such, and the Imperial Court demands I continuously develop affordable medicines for the people. Even with ten bodies, it wouldn’t be enough. Of course I’d fall ill. I don’t even have time to eat these days.”

It wasn’t a statement that suited a man so visibly overweight, but as the angry breathing around him gradually quieted, the count feigned sorrow, pulling down the corners of his brows and lamenting,

“Creating even one medicine isn’t simple. Should we use the same ingredients commoners eat? The medicinal herbs brought over mountains and rivers are handled with utmost care, for fear of even a single scratch. No matter how much gold you pour, the transport costs alone are enormous. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Hmm, even so—”

“In the north, monsters make it dangerous to retrieve precious herbs. To the west, only desert. Only east and south remain, but tolls are outrageous, inspections are constant. And should I openly advertise that I bring these precious herbs to the capital just for the elite? If word spreads that Pelliese provides special treatments for special people, do you think the Imperial Court would stay silent? Would wealthy commoners stay quiet? I have my own worries too, you know?”

“Still, cutting us off so suddenly puts us in a difficult position—we’re not blaming you, Count, of course.”

With a face that looked genuinely wronged, Count Pelliese smoothly grilled the intruders with his oily tongue.

After spending the entire morning like this, he collapsed onto his bed, completely drained.

Yet even lying down, the image of lost gold flickered before his eyes, driving him nearly mad.

If an intruder came, at least it would force him to get up—but ever since Yuan had cut off contact over a week ago, the count had slowly begun feeling anxious and powerless.

He had tried to make urgent medicine alone in the laboratory, but each attempt failed.

Even when following the prescription exactly, that final, subtle touch Yuan had always applied made all the difference in quality.

“If I’d known, I should’ve memorized it myself.”

He never imagined that the nephew he’d planned to keep close for years under the pretense of treating Louise’s illness would seize such an opportunity.

And that he would grab it without looking back, then vanish without a single word.

Angry and aggrieved, he lay there, clutching his head.

“How could it do this to me?”