05. My Queen

「Izer, I love you.」

“……”

Now he didn’t even have the strength to curse. The man quietly got up. While blinking at the sunlight coming through the curtains, the dream that should have faded became clearer.

In the dream, they passionately intertwined their bodies. As he pressed his lips against her ample br*easts and twisted his body, she would hold his manhood, which she couldn’t fully grasp, and urge him to put it in quickly. When he granted that wish, moans of pleasure would whirl through the air.

‘Damn it.’

It would be easiest to call her in, day or night, to satisfy his lust, but every time he had such thoughts, his right hand twitched guiltily. Had his hatred reached such an extreme that he wanted to kill her?

‘There was an even lower point…’

The one he should actually kill, he still hadn’t touched. He was smirking as he changed clothes and was going down the stairs when he met eyes with a woman coming up.

“Good morn–”

Izer passed by without even listening to the end of her greeting. Ignoring both the necklace dangling from her neck and her chest that seemed to have become slightly fuller.

Of course, the will of his member, which had uselessly risen again as soon as they met, was also disregarded.

* * *

Harris fiddled with the hunting rifle he had placed on the desk.

“There are many foreigners at Porchmen Boarding School. There’s no doubt that it has a good educational environment, but its only flaw is that it borders Fairville. Citizens who have been burned by war once don’t want to send their children to the border.”

Porchmen was indeed a good boarding school. It could be trusted since Owen and Dr. Caleb had searched hard to find it. The letters from Beth were also bright and hopeful.

And Harris Chesterfield blatantly flaunted the fact that he knew Beth’s current address in front of Celian.

“So, Beth is doing well at Porchmen, I hear?”

“…Yes.”

Even if she had been sent somewhere other than Porchmen, she wouldn’t have been able to escape the eyes of the Duke of Chesterfield. Celian tried to think positively.

The man put down the finished hunting rifle with a thud.

“Two weeks left.”

The main point was starting to come out. Celian bit her lip.

It had been over a month since Izer stopped seeking her out. She saw his face once or twice a day, but that was all. He neither entered her room nor called her to his room.

The problem was that two months had already passed out of the three months Harris had given her. In the remaining two weeks, she had to fully buy and then discard Izer’s heart.

“I thought Izer would fall for you more easily with Ophelia around. It’s a pity it wasn’t helpful.”

It was as if he had told Lord Montes to bring his daughter back to the country just for her sake. Her voice trembled as she answered.

“I’m sorry.”

“I wonder what the problem was…”

Harris looked at the woman standing in front of him.

Celian’s complexion had noticeably improved. Her cheeks were fuller with vitality, and her eyes sparkled. She had become much more beautiful than when she first came to the mansion.

Harris’s acquaintances who occasionally visited the mansion drooled over his youngest son’s tutor. Whenever they subtly asked if he would hand her over, Harris refused, saying it was difficult at the moment.

“Why does that bastard seem to ignore you?”

“…I don’t know.”

It wasn’t that Celian hadn’t tried to seduce Izer. She had lingered in the second-floor corridor, tightened her corset as much as possible to accentuate her body’s lines, and even altered her clothes stylishly with her honed sewing skills.

Using the hot summer as an excuse, she slightly revealed her neck below which hung a silver cross necklace. It was positioned where it wouldn’t be visible unless she undressed.

Once a week, on days when she went out, she invariably encountered Izer near the mansion. Each time, Owen was by her side. Despite Celian’s protests, Owen casually escorted her back to the duke’s mansion, and yesterday, he even had the leisure to exchange greetings with Izer.

Ophelia frequented the mansion quite often. On days when she visited, Izer’s mood was terrible, and he invariably sought alcohol.

Once, she encountered a drunk Izer in the second-floor corridor. That day, he kissed Celian in the middle of the corridor. Celian, seeing Izer that drunk for the first time, was inwardly nervous, but he only kissed her and returned to his room.

Harris stroked the fully cleaned hunting rifle as if he had some lingering attachment to it.

“Celian, even if you fail to complete this task, I lose nothing.”

That was obvious. From the start, this was a strategy for his amus*ment. People don’t fall apart just because they lack interesting things to do.

“But it’s different for you, Celian.”

“……”

“Did I mention it? William bought a villa in Porchmen. A good property came up, so I recommended it. William was quite pleased with it, I hear.”

“……”

“So I really hope you succeed, Celian.”

Celian didn’t respond. She still had enough morality left to not say with her own mouth that she hoped for her own success.

Harris stood up to hang the hunting rifle on the wall. Lately, the wrinkles on his face had noticeably increased.

“I’ll give you an extra week. That bastard hasn’t been home much these days… Who knows where he’s wandering off to.”

“……”

“That’s fair, don’t you think?”

It was so ridiculous to talk about fairness in this situation. That’s why she didn’t have the strength to express that she didn’t even want such fairness.

* * *

The man raised his left hand to cover his eyes. For a cheap inn room, the sun sure comes in well. The best room given by the innkeeper, who had guessed the guest’s status and offered it as a consideration, was something Izer had never wanted.

‘The duke must be throwing quite a fit.’

One way or another, the fact that Izer was a ‘Chesterfield’ helped him to some extent in opposing his adoptive father. While wandering around the country with his hood pulled low, he had even made some friends.

They were loyal to Izer in every way. Thanks to them, he even got something that could be considered evidence for the matter he was investigating.

The hairy man, who claimed to be the sole survivor after all his comrades had died, was drunk and talking enthusiastically in front of Izer, whose face was hidden by a deeply pulled hood.

‘He said he’d ride in the carriage, so we should just kill the coachman. I thought it was strange from the moment I heard that.’

‘……’

‘When I was about to end the coachman’s life, he told me to wait a moment? That’s when I realized. Our client had followed along because he had something urgent to say to the coachman before he died.’

‘……’

‘I didn’t understand everything. It sounded like a woman’s name, Renée… Yes, it was Renée. I think that name came up many times. I thought it might be some love affair between high-ranking people.’

‘Do you remember the client’s face?’

‘Of course. He seemed to think we were ignorant fools stuck in the countryside, but there’s probably no one in Treven who wouldn’t recognize that face.’

‘…Who was it?’

‘Harris Chesterfield.’

The house of the man who told him the truth burned down and disappeared. Izer stood in front of the ashes and thought.

Father was killed by Harris Chesterfield.

He needed the certainty of that one sentence. He had come all the way to this remote countryside to obtain a reason to destroy his adoptive father without any guilt.

Harris Chesterfield killed Father to possess Mother.

It was a disaster created by dirty desires. The jealousy surrounding the three people who were once said to be friends killed one man, led one woman to hell, and caused the remaining man to reveal his bottomless nature.

While shuddering at how truly ugly it was, he self-deprecatingly thought,

‘When it comes to dirty desires, I’m in no position to blame others.’

The man wearing a black hat looked up at the sky.

It was truly a clear day, as he had expected when the sunlight woke him up early. The rainbow stretching across the clouds visible in the distance meant that it had rained or would rain, but at least the land he was standing on seemed like it would be clear all day.

As soon as Izer stepped outside, a short man came running out hurriedly. It was the innkeeper who had given him the best horse.

“Uh, my lord, I think this letter might be for you…”

The innkeeper’s hands trembled as he looked at the red eyes visible under the hat. The letter from a high-ranking lord in the capital — said to be the son of Count Schwenn — which was meant to be delivered to a black-haired man with red eyes, passed into noble hands.