Chapter 56. I’ll Find My Own Way Out

2023.11.25.

Someone who could create things incomparable to the , also researching for him so he could finally escape being labeled as inferior to his predecessor.

During the time when Yuan was absent, Gerret Pelliese had felt it deep in his bones.

‘Yuan must be mine. Ideally, I’d put a leash on her and lock her in a side room. Turn her into a fool who can’t even dream of happiness without me.’

To do that, first he had to separate Yuan from the monster imprisoned in the Black Mansion.

From that monster, who could either steal his treasure and waste her abilities, or simply kill her—those were the only two options!

Why had the Crown Prince sent the bride price so late?

It meant he fully accepted Yuan as his wife and acknowledged the Pelliese Count family as his in-laws!

‘Such a thing must never happen. Who does he think he is, calling this place his in-laws’ home? I will never accept this marriage. Yuan, that wretched girl, is forever Pelliese property—my property!’

Leaving behind Priscilla, who was happily counting the gold bars sent by the Crown Prince, Gerret Pelliese walked out of the parlor and headed up to his laboratory.

The secret agent Kiyotel had already slipped in through the back door.

“Did you find anything?”

“There is a family cemetery within the Marquis Rev territory, sir. The Crown Princess visited a few weeks ago, and again this week. The gravedigger said he was told from above to take good care of her, as she would be visiting roughly twice a month.”

“So Louise buried it there, I see.”

“What?”

“Prepare yourself. We’re leaving there immediately.”

***

The Count Pelliese hastily packed his travel bag. The moment he burst out of the laboratory door, he came face to face with Regina, who had been lingering right in front of it.

Regina was draped from head to toe in luxurious jewelry and dresses, far more extravagant than before. Once, she had thought she needed such finery to marry into a decent family, but now, strangely, she felt a deep knot in her gut.

“Regina.”

“Yes, Father.”

She answered meekly, having watched from outside as a suspicious man slipped into the laboratory, followed shortly by her father, who stayed inside for a long time before emerging.

The suspicious man followed her father out through the open door. When their eyes met, she flinched and pretended not to see him.

The Count scrutinized his daughter with dull eyes and sternly warned her.

“Don’t go stirring up trouble. Behave yourself.”

“What?”

“Bollonico, the First Prince.”

His tone clearly said not to expect anything foolish. Regina’s eyes instantly sharpened.

“We’re already lovers.”

“Nonsense!”

“I didn’t throw myself at him! You know that! You saw it yourself! He was the one who sent me letters first—”

“Dreykub Treloni sent you several letters again today. Right there, with your name clearly written. In my opinion, he’s more than enough for you. He’s the most realistic marriage prospect. I’d prefer a better family, but don’t get involved with Prince Bollonico. A subtle rumor here and there is fine—it’ll raise your value. But don’t openly carry on a romance with a prince.”

Regina glared at her father with eyes brimming with injustice.

If there were no hope at all, maybe she could accept it. But right now, she was deep in the sweet dream of Bollonico.

Yes, Bollonico did many things that turned people’s lives upside down, but he had beauty far beyond that horse-faced Dreykub—and above all, he was the prince of this nation.

The Emperor’s firstborn son.

To Regina, her father Gerret Pelliese seemed like a coward, obsessed with pointless worries and ready to throw away the opportunity right before his eyes.

If he wanted to ruin his own chances, fine—but why drag down his own child too?

The Count Pelliese ignored Regina’s resentful gaze and whispered,

“If Marquis Companni is just a snake, then the prince is a cobra with deadly venom. Beautiful, treacherous poison itself.”

“In what way?”

Leaving only those words behind, the Count Pelliese walked past Regina, waddling with the strange man trailing behind.

“Where are you going?!”

The Count did not answer his daughter’s question.

Regina stared at the jingling laboratory key hanging from her father’s belt, then immediately dashed toward the pigeon loft.

“To Marquis Rev’s territory… family cemetery… visits twice a month… take good care…”

Straining to recall every word she’d overheard through the crack in the laboratory door, Regina quickly sent a letter to Bollonico.

“There’s nothing I can do, Father. I’ll find my own way out.”

Regina glared at the carrier pigeon flying off with the note tied to its leg.

Now that she had glimpsed the hope named Bollonico, there was no way she could ever be satisfied with Dreykub Treloni—the horse-faced fool.

***

If you asked the people of Roxenhardt what topic interested them most lately, a hundred out of a hundred would answer the same:

“The Cleaning Potion.”

It started when the Marquis Rev household recruited dozens of locals through an urgent hiring notice. Now, nearly three hundred residents were mobilized, scouring the White Forest for herbs, extracting juice, drying, and grinding them.

Moreover, artisans who had previously struggled to make ends meet, unable to use their expertise, began receiving new work.

Workshops producing pretty glass bottles for the potion, paper labels to wrap them, gift boxes, and printing houses producing wrapping paper—all were busy day and night.

Merchants who had stayed within nearby territories to acquire the Cleaning Potion now flocked to Central Roxenhardt, making the commercial district lively overnight.

All this had happened within just one month.

“This is why specialty products matter.”

Hire Hatarun puffed up his chest proudly, having changed out of his tattered clothes into decent attire that gleamed slightly.

“Ever since my lady mentioned the idea for this potion, I’ve seen gold floating in my mind.”

“Hey, Four-eyes. The credit goes to Yuan, so why are you boasting?”

“Your Highness, if a businessman has no desire for gold, his work remains mere art—something pretty to display at home and nothing more.”

“Just leave the painkillers here.”

“Ah. This time, my lady made all of them herself. You don’t need painkillers as often anymore, and I’ve been running around everywhere lately, so…”

“Go.”

Clearly thinking, ‘You talk too much,’ the gaze passed over Hire and landed on the office door.

Once Hire left with a sullen expression, the ecstatic Marquis Rev, who had been holding back his cheers, gasped for breath.

“Her Highness is truly a blessing.”

“Flattery.”

All products hastily made and sold in the past month had completely sold out.

The profits, after paying fair wages to the locals, still left a massive amount of gold—even after lighting up the dark streets of Central Roxenhardt with gas lamps every night.

“Why don’t you tell her yourself? She’d be happy.”

“Speaking of which, where is the real boss? Not that scrawny trouser-legged shopkeeper.”

To Marquis Rev’s exaggerated question, Clade fell briefly into thought.

His long, thick-fingered hand slowly brushed over the bundle of painkillers Hire had left behind.

“She’s probably locked in her study. Even though she’s busy, she still follows the water-carrying procession every time without fail. When she returns, she shuts herself in and reads something.”

“I heard she visits the family cemetery often. Maybe she enjoys getting fresh air?”

“Is that so.”

Clade’s voice was low and calm, but not particularly cheerful.

Yet Marquis Rev ignored his mood and continued praising Yuan enthusiastically.

“How clever and dignified she is.”

“Dignified? She runs around making all sorts of noise—more like a yapping little dog—”

“She treats the servants so kindly, and most importantly, she’s the one who got Your Highness to leave the bedroom.”

“I came out not because of her, but of my own will—”

“That’s why I want to give her a little gift this time. I’ve made preparations.”

Clade’s excuses fell completely flat on the excited Marquis.

The Marquis leaned solemnly toward Clade, who was buried in paperwork.

“Her Highness is just the right age for a debutante ball, isn’t she?”

“A debutante ball? For a married woman?”

“I plan to host a grand debutante ball at the Marquisate for the daughters of vassals under my territory. And this time, I’ll make it even bigger.”

“…So?”

“I’d like to invite Her Highness, so she can at least enjoy the atmosphere of such an event—naturally.”

A barely noticeable crease formed between Clade’s brows.

“She probably wouldn’t enjoy noisy events like that—”

“Have you even asked? Even if someone is shy by nature, women her age still dream of a debutante ball. Especially if a handsome man like you is her partner—she’d be the envy of everyone.”

The Marquis pulled a small hand mirror from his pocket—why do these nobles, like Lancelot, always carry hand mirrors?—and held it up to Clade.

In the tiny mirror, a disheveled blond man stared back with slightly disgruntled eyes.

“Is being escorted by a ‘deposed’ prince part of that dream too?”

At Clade’s self-mocking remark, the Marquis withdrew the mirror, a secretive smile spreading across his lips.

“Once you become the true master of Roxenhardt, Your Highness.”

Seeing Clade’s face harden instantly, the Marquis pressed on with renewed vigor.

“Whatever the circumstances. Officially, publicly, you are the Crown Prince who voluntarily stepped down. The documents and newspapers all say you handed the throne to your great-uncle, Grand Duke Igor, of your own will.”

“…”

“This title and land were inherited by my father, the late Marquis Rev, from Empress Eleonore. All you need to do is sign the prepared documents, and the inheritance will proceed without issue. It’s already long overdue.”

“…”

“If it troubles you to escort Her Highness as a deposed prince, then become the Count of Roxenhardt. Take the title, step fully into the world, and live proudly. Wouldn’t Her Highness be happier living openly rather than locked away in that mansion forever?”

“A debutante ball.”

Clade fell into thought.

“A debutante ball…”

The Marquis steadied his breath and nodded firmly.

He would invite Her Highness to the Marquisate, filling it only with beautiful, sparkling things—sweetening his words like honey—for the sake of the Her Highness who had been disappointed during the last territory inspection.

“That’s just how normal people live.”

Clade murmured quietly, as if sighing.

“If my uncle arranges such an event, I won’t stop Yuan from attending.”

“Then—”

“But if I, as the Count of Roxenhardt, have to escort the Countess of Roxenhardt, I’ll need to think it over.”