Chapter 44. The Lady Who Did Not Return

2023.11.13.

After all, these noble young ladies would never have a chance to see the Crown Prince.

Instead of the truth—that half of the Crown Prince’s face was breathtakingly beautiful—Regina began wildly imagining the hidden half she had so tightly concealed.

She claimed that strange pus oozed every few hours, forcing him to constantly prop something under his chin, and that up close, thick, sticky, tar-colored pus filled the wound.

Of course, it reeked horribly, and her poor cousin had to endure the stench, occasionally even changing the container of pus—so the exaggerated tale went.

The story, embellished with imagined symptoms of the esteemed patients visiting the Pelliese family, instantly captured everyone’s attention.

The more grotesquely Regina described the Crown Prince, the more explosively she observed the reactions.

But these young ladies weren’t interested in how hideous the Crown Prince truly was.

“My poor cousin? Do you really think she’d ever do such a dreadful task? This girl, whose hardest chore in a day was embroidering handkerchiefs for my father in this beautiful mansion?”

“Surely she isn’t personally attending to him? What are the maids doing?”

“The Black Mansion is simply enormous. And even if commoners didn’t know better, few would dare enter to work there. The servants’ uniforms are dreadful, and their numbers few. I doubt there are even people capable of attending to him. After all, he’s famously rough-tempered—who could possibly endure him?”

“That’s true.”

Just as Lady Celentina wore a pitiful expression, imagining the horrific nursing duties, a young noble girl who loved gossiping quietly broached the next topic.

“I heard from my father that there are rumors they actually get along quite well? The Crown Prince has never before publicly acknowledged a consort, and even at the private anniversary party attended only by close aides, the two of them were seen…”

Regina twisted her brows and lips together, scraping up fake sympathy and slathering it across her face.

“Oh—how sad. Is getting along really such a good thing?”

Several young ladies’ faces darkened with disgust. Regina scrunched her eyebrows and forehead in exaggerated revulsion, then smiled pityingly.

Utterly unfortunate, that gloomy, shadowy Yuan Pelliese.

In contrast, Regina Pelliese—the sole daughter of the current Count Pelliese—who basked in the full attention of Bollonico’s First Prince.

Among the young noblewomen destined to lead society, it was obvious who they would pity and feel superior toward, and whom they’d want to welcome into their circle.

Even if Yuan Pelliese would never appear in society at all.

***

“What’s the point of constantly bringing up pointless gossip?”

“Regina’s handling it well enough. Don’t go stirring trouble.”

“Would you calm down if just one verse were sung? If word spreads, what becomes of our dignity? It’ll seem like Yuan was just sold off.”

“She was sold off, wasn’t she? Sent to that worthless place as proof of loyalty to the imperial family?”

Sold off? Don’t make me laugh.

The Count, who had sent not one but two nieces—valuable assets of the family—into the Black Mansion without receiving a single coin of dowry, did not agree at all with his wife’s words.

Priscilla, meanwhile, happily smiled as she peeked through the parlor door at the chattering girls.

“Stop obsessing over that Yuan girl. Just watch our daughter, who’ll be the backbone of this household. Look at her—she doesn’t shrink at all among those high-born girls. And she’s the prettiest of them all.”

“You watch your mouth too. What kind of countess talks like that? If you speak this way in front of others, they’ll just call you a merchant’s daughter again…”

“You focus on doing better. This time, I’ll make sure to reconcile with my family. What good is being nobility if you’re broke? Hmph. If Regina succeeds, we won’t have to worry about the family business anymore.”

Leaving behind a delighted Priscilla, who watched Regina skillfully conversing with girls born into nobility, Count Pelliese signaled quietly to his trusted aide standing at a distance.

The aide silently shook his head.

The Count had indeed planted someone in the northwest, where the Black Mansion was located.

Right now, thanks to the name value of Bollonico’s First Prince, they had temporarily extinguished their urgent crisis. But these were people who had emptied every last emergency fund just to survive.

‘I can’t give up on Yuan.’

Though he was using Regina to fend off immediate danger, he didn’t believe for a second that she could capture Bollonico—someone even Grand Duchess Ariesta had failed to win over.

***

Now, the marital harmony of the Crown Prince couple in the Black Mansion wasn’t even worth gossiping about.

Yuan, who had joined the morning procession heading out to fetch water, desperately needed a private space where she could release the pain she had forced into her body from Clade’s suffering.

The church cemetery was perfect.

The maids who usually stayed close to her would return to help at the well if she said she was going to pray in the church.

It was also the only time she could be truly alone.

Lancelot, who had arrived early at the Black Mansion, approached Clade, who was watching Yuan and the servants’ procession from the window.

“I always think this—your wife treats the servants so casually. What noblewoman in the world would follow a water-fetching procession by hitching a ride on a supply cart like that?”

“That won’t do.”

Clade replied coldly to what was meant as a half-joking remark, clearly showing his long-standing displeasure.

Lancelot, trying to lighten the mood, casually slapped Clade’s arm.

Clade, leaning against the window and watching the retreating procession, had irritation in his eyes.

“You used to be like that too, Clade. Back when we came here, we fought and roughhoused like commoners. That was fun.”

“Did you come here just to reminisce?”

“You’re so sensitive. You hadn’t acted like this in a while—what’s wrong? Did you fight?”

At the word “fight,” Clade snorted.

You’d need something worth fighting about to actually fight.

When every day brought rumors of how wonderfully the couple got along, and his wife acted as if she didn’t care at all—unaware of how wretched and pathetic he felt—there wasn’t even the will to argue.

And now, because he’d grown too accustomed to these easy, comfortable nights, he felt utterly contemptible and disappointed in himself for not probing further.

Clade irritably shook his hair.

“We didn’t fight.”

“You did. I told you over and over to treat her well, but you wouldn’t listen. Isn’t Eddie’s paranoia enough? You don’t need to watch her like a hawk every time she goes to the church. She’s just going to check on her family graves.”

Lancelot’s scolding voice faded, and the room sank into deep silence.

“What?”

At Clade’s expression—like he’d just been slapped—Lancelot realized he had misspoken.

***

“Your Highness, you summoned me?”

“Where is Louise Pelliese?”

“!”

“Let me be precise. My eighth wife, whom no one ever saw before she died.”

Clade studied Gustav’s face reflected in the closed window.

The pale, stunned butler stood frozen, staring blankly at his back.

“I’m not sure if I’m even your master anymore. Do I have to tolerate this too?”

“Th-That’s—”

‘I heard you’ve started taking on some tasks lately, so I naturally assumed you knew.’

‘While I was running around this barren place doing your work, I ended up visiting the church often, and I noticed two graves I’d never seen before.’

‘One was Louise Pelliese—your eighth wife and the current wife’s sister.’

‘Beside her was Oliver. They were buried side by side.’

The more flustered Gustav became, the heavier Clade’s mood sank.

“How could you hide something like this?”

‘I didn’t know.’

When Clade first heard it, he wasn’t angry—he was utterly bewildered.

‘It must’ve been hard to tell you.’

‘Everyone knows you hate associating anything related to death with this mansion.’

What must she have felt, hiding the truth from him and visiting her sister alone?

***

The next day.

Yuan, who had followed the procession as usual, was shocked by an absurd piece of news.

“What?”

“I was stunned too. Yesterday, only two novice priests were off-duty and stayed behind to pray at the church, when suddenly some noble visitors came and said they’d move her to a better resting place.”

“But even so, how could they…”

Last night.

Someone had dug up Louise’s grave and relocated it elsewhere.

Yuan stood dumbfounded, nearly fainting, staring at Louise’s lone tablet left behind among the others’ tablets.

“I’ll ask again when the priest wakes up. This is just… Still, if it was family who took her, perhaps it’s fortunate? After all, the lady brought back an unidentified body and cared for it—so this might be a blessing.”

When Yuan had entrusted her sister’s remains to this church, thanks to Gustav’s consideration, and held a simple funeral.

She had lied, saying the deceased was an unknown corpse she found dead in the guest house on her first day arriving at the mansion.

In a place that clearly knew her identity, claiming Louise was her sister felt dangerous—she feared Marquis Companni might one day come and burn everything to ashes.

Unaware of Yuan’s circumstances, the senior priest smiled kindly.

“Do you know who? Or which direction they went?”

“They said it was north…”

“When the novice priest wakes up, please inform me immediately.”

“Madam, why are you so distressed?”

Yuan told Monica, who had come to fetch her, to go back first—she wanted to pray a little longer.

She stubbornly insisted she’d call a hired carriage from the nearby village if it got too late.

Yuan immediately set off, following the novice priest’s testimony, searching frantically for her sister.

She was barely sane.

***

The lady had not returned to the mansion.

That single sentence caused massive repercussions.

When Yuan still hadn’t returned to the mansion by sunset, the servants began rushing to Butler Gustav, stomping their feet in panic.

“Do you think the lady would even know how to hail a hired carriage in that village?”

“She’s never even been down to the village before!”

“The priests must be busy, and the lady isn’t the type to make such requests easily.”

More and more servants gathered at the entrance.

Their worried faces were uniformly filled with anxiety.

Soon, darkness would turn the surroundings into complete pitch black.

Unlike other mansions with brightly colored bricks, without torchlight, even the most skilled driver would struggle to find this estate.

“There—there comes Mr. Mazarin!”

“That fellow is always so slow!”

Finally unable to bear the tension, Head Chef Ralph sprinted to the main gate.

Soon, when night fully fell, everyone without exception would have to retreat to their rooms per the mansion’s rules, so only a few servants hesitantly followed Ralph.

Mr. Mazarin, who had driven out personally, wore a grim expression.

“The lady borrowed a carriage.”

“Did she get lost? Shouldn’t we all go out with torches and search?”

Head Chef Ralph stammered, looking around wildly.

He seemed ready to snatch torches from the guards outside.

“The carriage didn’t head toward the mansion.”

At Mr. Mazarin’s words, the clustered servants’ faces froze stiff.