Chapter 49. Give Her Whatever She Wants

2023.11.18.

Gerret Pelliese, Count, shook his head violently to dispel from his mind a scene so chilling it made his blood run cold, then lowered his voice significantly.

“Deliver this letter if she personally shows up. And if she frequents any particular place regularly, track her down completely—find out where she goes and what she does.”

“But sir, with all due respect, you’re giving me so much to do when I’m just one man—”

-Thud!-

A heavy noise echoed across the wooden floor.

Kiyotel, the secret mercenary, immediately stretched his lips into a wide grin upon seeing a gold bar as thick as his forearm.

Not a single one of his exposed teeth was white.

Gerret Pelliese abruptly turned his eyes away, as if repulsed by the unsightly sight, and issued his dismissal.

“If you bring back even one useful result, I’ll give you two more of these. Remember—most importantly, no one else must find out.”

“Yes—yes, sir.”

“And as soon as you leave, hand that green letter to the steward. It’s an urgent message to Marquis Rev, so take one of my servants and deliver it swiftly yourself.”

“Yes—sir. How could there be any objection?”

Bending his small, sturdy frame, Kiyotel scooped up the gold bar and several letters, then grinned widely, revealing teeth caked with grime.

***

Since the bizarre wedding celebration that Emperor Igor Euphris had enjoyed all by himself, this was the first time Marquis Rev of Mosan had visited the Black Mansion, and his emotion ran deeper and wider than the sea.

The moment he arrived before the massive iron gate at the estate’s entrance, he froze in astonishment.

Beyond the creaking iron gate, the garden, which had once appeared desolate and barren, now looked remarkably lush and vibrant.

The change began with the garden—and then came the next…

“I thought Lancelot was just playing a joke to amuse me.”

“That’s just like him.”

“I’ve been avoiding coming here on purpose because every time I see you, I end up nagging. But now that I’m here… truly—”

His monocle, worn while reviewing documents, fogged up with moisture.

Marquis Rev let hot tears drip steadily into the lenses, then sniffed them back through his nose as if inhaling loose strands of noodles.

“Did I ever tell you? Your Highness bears an uncanny resemblance to the late Empress Eleonore—your eyes and lips are exactly like hers, as if cast from the same mold.”

“To my memory, I started hearing that when I was about four.”

As the continuous sniffling and snorting sounds persisted, Clade tossed him a handkerchief without much ceremony.

Seeing Clade’s indifferent purple eyes swiftly scanning documents, Marquis Rev boldly moved closer, sitting right beside him and studying him intently.

“Are you unwell? Your skin looks unusually pale, like a newborn baby’s, but otherwise you seem fine—”

-Tap.

Clade abruptly set down his pen with a sharp sound and quickly untied the knot of his nightgown.

The back of his neck and chest came fully into view—dark, hard, and writhing like a coiled serpent.

Startled by Clade’s sudden action, Marquis Rev quickly composed himself as Clade calmly refastened his robe and picked up his pen again, then wiped his face with the handkerchief as if washing it.

He had acted utterly foolish. It wasn’t time to pop champagne.

Still. Still…

“What more could one ask for in a face? Granted, if you look closely, you can still see faint freckles, but for a man, this is hardly unattractive.”

“It’d be ridiculous to compare yourself to those fools who parade around with things that look more like horse heads than human ones.”

Marquis Rev barely suppressed a chuckle as he recalled the men of the Treloni family.

Even so, gazing at his dignified and radiant nephew, his heart trembled with emotion.

Clade, who had inherited both the beauty of Mosan Rev’s only sister, Eleonore, and the cool, masculine aura of the late Emperor Alexei, continued to stir the old man’s tear ducts.

“Stop sentimentalizing over your nephew’s face. If you understood that it wasn’t laziness but inability that kept me from working all this time, you’d stop scolding me.”

“I’ve always said happiness isn’t much.”

Marquis Rev murmured, his eyes brimming with emotion.

“One day, you’ll truly understand—holding the one you love, seeing your child. Even such ordinary things that everyone else experiences can be happiness.”

And with those blessing-like words, he accepted the signed documents from Clade.

Clade said nothing, pressing his temples, then faintly curved one corner of his mouth upward.

“I don’t know what love is, but I’m satisfied that I’ve gained enough patience to endure my uncle’s foolishness.”

“I’ll head straight to express my gratitude to my nephew’s ninth bride. I’d also like to apologize for the rudeness I showed on our first meeting.”

“Rudeness?”

A flicker of displeasure briefly crossed Clade’s relaxed eyes, and Marquis Rev immediately confessed.

“You looked so frail that I thought you’d run away the moment you saw the Emperor—flee in utter panic, forgetting even where your old shoes were. Yet someone who appeared so delicate stayed by His Highness’s side until the very end and remained through his recovery. I know it’s irreverent, but I find it admirable.”

Mosan Rev, his hair now more streaked with gray than ten years ago, smiled at Clade, who appeared slightly displeased.

“I’ll even go so far as to make a formal plea—please continue to take good care of our Emperor.”

“I’m not a child.”

Clade snorted dismissively.

“Oh, and… this.”

Marquis Rev handed over a file he’d been carrying under his arm, turning slightly away as if embarrassed.

“The Pelliese Count’s family has sent documents demanding a bride price for the marriage. It’s customary to exchange such things, so it’s a reasonable request.”

“Though we didn’t receive anything ourselves, of course.”

Eddie, who had silently watched his father’s tears from a distance, abruptly interjected.

In Eddie Rev’s sharp eyes flickered deep suspicion toward Gerret Pelliese, the current Count of Pelliese.

The marriage had been nearly equivalent to selling the bride to secure favor with Crown Prince Bollonico, so the Pelliese side might feel somewhat aggrieved. Still, the groom’s family, the Rev Marquisate, was far from pleased.

This had nothing to do with whether Yuan Pelliese was a suitable wife.

It was about family and family.

Especially since this union involved the imperial house, certain procedures couldn’t simply be overlooked. Yet the Pelliese family had openly taken Yuan Pelliese—valuable as part of their household—and now demanded money, using word choices so blatantly mercantile that they couldn’t possibly hide their crassness.

The letter from Count Pelliese regarding the bride price now fell into Clade’s hands.

With languid, half-lidded eyes, Clade read through it, then immediately scrawled his signature, approving every demand without hesitation.

“Give her whatever she wants to shut up anyone who dares say they want her back.”

“There’s room for negotiation. You didn’t have to sign so quickly.”

“Give them everything. I don’t care. Doesn’t matter how much the bride price is.”

“This list was likely written with negotiation in mind, so we could counter with some terms and even request a dowry. Of course, that’s separate from how well Your Highness is already being treated. Appropriately asserting dominance to prevent the Pelliese family from presuming to dictate terms to a member of the Euphris imperial line—”

“What for?”

“…”

“They sent the bride. We gave nothing in return. This is only fair. Let’s not argue over a few pounds of gold—just give them whatever they ask.”

Eddie clenched his jaw tightly, his face rigid. After several silent twitches of his lips, he finally sighed deeply, took the documents, and left the office.

Clade, having finished speaking, seemed frustrated and flung the window wide open.

As his gaze shifted toward the garden and beyond, Clade slightly turned his head toward Marquis Rev, who was quietly admiring the picturesque scene.

The sunlight caught Clade’s golden hair, making it shimmer transparently as it gently brushed over Marquis Rev’s pupils.

“Let’s take a walk for once, Uncle.”

Side by side, they stepped into the garden.

Clade’s footsteps naturally led toward the western wing, and Marquis Rev quietly followed behind.

The small western wing, once covered in black ash, now gleamed, having shed its soot to reveal its original red brick.

In Marquis Rev’s eyes, the estate’s mistress, busy overseeing the final touches, came into view.

The pale girl, who had once trembled with wide, dark eyes full of fear, now had a slightly flushed face in the sunlight. Her lips, murmuring instructions to a maid beside her, bloomed with the vibrant color of spring flowers.

It was a transformation like a dark storm cloud turning into a rainbow.

Her eyes, shining like obsidian, curved pleasingly, and her upturned lips looked both prim and lovely.

Wearing a tattered but endearing apron and holding a brush, the former Empress looked like an anonymous painter coloring the black-and-white world with red.

Marquis Rev stood still, gazing at Clade’s broad back as he stared ahead.

He wondered whether Clade was looking at the red bricks that stirred old memories, or at the woman’s clear, radiant smile—the kind that made you smile back even when she was messy.

“Igor Euphris only cares about how to further ruin the country, whose head to sever and display, or which noblewoman’s skirt to lift.”

“…”

“But here, no one even dares bring up such matters. You just need to be happy. Like everyone else.”

Like everyone else.

Clade rolled the unspoken sentences around in his mind.

Those words, once filled only with resentment, now felt different when they came from her.

In the blink of an eye, everything was changing.

The endless pain was gradually fading. The person who had seen his weakest, most pitiful state hadn’t run away, but instead said she liked being close to him.

It was an utterly surreal reality.

“Spring has truly arrived now, Clade.”

His uncle spoke gently, standing beside him, gazing at the same spot.

Through the still-chilly breeze passing by, the warm fragrance of spring drifted in.

Clade traced with his eyes the garden, now fresh and green like childhood springs, and the seedlings Yuan had planted around the western wing.

Among the budding spring flowers, just beginning to bloom, he saw the woman’s face faintly smiling, basking in the sunlight.

As if mirroring her smile, Clade subtly lifted the corners of his lips.

It was awkward, even slightly melancholic—but it was a beautiful smile, as if painted.