Chapter 3

Since becoming the head of the Remaxion Marquisate at eighteen, her achievements had been remarkable, but Alis had never once considered herself anything special. Most of her business successes came from paying close attention to those very wives whom these men thought did nothing but spend money and gossip all day. What they liked, where their interests lay—these were matters of great importance.

The reason Alis dragged her uncomfortable body to these unbearably tedious balls and made sure to keep her seat was for exactly that. It was to glean, even if just in passing, what the noble ladies cared about or what policies the Empire was considering. But today, there was something even more entertaining to watch.

“So, Marquis, if you would just take a little interest in our business…”

Barely listening to those around her, Alis’s gaze was fixed on the little lovers’ quarrel happening a short distance away.

‘How adorable!’

So green, so fresh. They really were at the prettiest age. She herself had once been that young, but she’d spent her youth working so hard, she barely remembered it passing by. Sometimes she regretted it, but even if Alis could go back to that time, she would have made the same choices. Maybe things would have been different if she’d had strong parents and a good family, like those children.

Shaking off such pointless thoughts, Alis refocused on the love triangle unfolding near the terrace.

On the terrace, Prince Karl was looking at Iana Marseille with eyes full of contempt. Alis clicked her tongue.

‘Oh dear, she’s only acting that way because she likes you, Your Highness. Couldn’t you look at her a little more kindly?’

Alis had to admit she was partial to that proud-looking girl with black hair and violet eyes. The way Princess Vivienne of the Toulouse Kingdom clung to Prince Karl with her frail body seemed repulsive, and it made Iana Marseille look all the more pitiable.

When Iana Marseille bit her lip and glared at Princess Vivienne, Prince Karl stepped forward as if to shield Vivienne, hiding her behind his own body. Alis shook her head, clicking her tongue.

“Honestly, what a brat who doesn’t know how to judge people.”

People nearby, never imagining she was talking about a Prince of the Empire, stared at her in confusion. Alis didn’t care and wet her lips with champagne. The wine, which should have tasted sweet tonight, was bitter. It wasn’t the melodrama unfolding before her that soured her mood, but the wine itself. Alis turned away from Prince Karl and frowned.

“What’s wrong with this?”

She raised her glass and held it up to the light. In the clear yellow liquid, not only bubbles but also some unknown white powder were floating. With a sinking feeling, Alis looked for Mellen, the one who had handed her this glass. He’d been here just a moment ago, but now there was no trace of him.

“Where did that brat run off to this time?”

Alis ground her teeth. Since she had never married, there was no heir to the Marquisate. When she first became Marquis, the family was nearly ruined, so no one cared, but after she founded the merchant guild and expanded her power, the Remaxion Marquisate was now widely regarded as one of the Empire’s pillars. As a result, relatives she’d never seen before popped up constantly, all claiming to be her blood kin.

At first, Alis had laughed them off, but after forty years of endless noise, she finally gave in.

“Just pick one of the Remaxion-named brats who seems decent enough.”

That was how Mellen became her heir. On the surface, he seemed fine—good looks, diligent, and apparently without any bad habits like drinking, smoking, gambling, or drugs. But to Alis, he seemed too greedy for his abilities, and his relationships with women were complicated.

Still, in a society where it was normal for noblemen to have one or two lovers, and now that he was officially the heir to the Remaxion Marquisate, his ambition didn’t seem excessive. Alis sometimes told herself her worries were just the result of growing suspicious in old age.

‘Getting old just makes you paranoid.’

Indeed, except for Alis, even the Marquisate’s retainers praised Mellen as a worthy successor, so Alis usually pretended not to notice his occasional unsettling behavior.

But when she saw mysterious powder floating in her wineglass—especially one Mellen had handed her so carefully—she couldn’t just ignore it anymore.

Alis shot up and looked around. Or at least, she tried to. If not for the sudden pain in her chest, she would have called for someone to find Mellen and had the suspicious drink analyzed by a trustworthy source.

“Ugh!”

As Alis clutched her chest and collapsed, chaos erupted around her.

“Your Lordship! Please, Your Lordship, get a hold of yourself!”

Someone nearby supported her as she fell. The glass slipped from her weakening hand, rolled away, and was crushed under the feet of the gathering crowd. Alis struggled to lift her head and scan the faces around her. At the very back, she saw Mellen watching her. When she glared at him with bloodshot eyes, Mellen faltered and stepped back.

Alis tried to raise her arm and point at him.

“That… that brat!”

But her words were swallowed up by the noise. A pain like her heart being ripped out seized her, and blood began to trickle from her lips. Gasping, Alis turned her head. She saw a healer rushing through the crowd. No, not just one—two? Even in this moment, her damnable curiosity shone through, and as she lost consciousness, Alis looked to see where the other healer was running.

‘Wait, is that…?’

Alis’s eyes narrowed. Iana Marseille was collapsed on the floor. She seemed to have already lost consciousness, her eyes closed. Alis glanced back and forth between Prince Karl and Princess Vivienne. Princess Vivienne was looking at Iana with tearful, worried eyes.

That was the last of Alis’s memory. The healer quickly began emergency treatment, but it didn’t look promising. Her lips were turning blue. The healer poured medicine into her mouth and massaged various spots, but after a while, with a gloomy expression, he said,

“Her Lordship has passed away.”

Regretful sighs rose here and there, and someone began to cry. The lively ball instantly turned somber.

The indomitable Alis Remaxion, who had lived a tumultuous life, passed away at the age of eighty-seven.

* * *

A sweet scent lingered at the tip of her nose. Alis, eyes still closed, sniffed but couldn’t guess its source. The maids must have done something to her room again.

‘All ladies have a bottle or two of perfume, or if you’re as wealthy as you, Your Lordship, dozens of bottles at least.’

Whenever Alis wrinkled her nose and scolded them for such nonsense, the maids would grumble, looking wronged. 

Now, even you should enjoy a little luxury like this, Your Lordship. 

They’d mutter and mumble, never tiring. The noisy voices seemed to ring in her ears, and Alis smiled gently, eyes still closed.

‘How adorable they are.’

Even the blanket hugging her skin was much softer than usual, obviously replaced without her knowing. How long had she been lying here?

Clicking her tongue, Alis opened her eyes.

The moment she opened them, she saw a splendid ceiling mural. Rolling her eyes, she saw the white, elegant molding surrounding the mural and the seamlessly connected white wallpaper, all of it dazzlingly ornate. The wallpaper was etched with delicate, small grooves, with images carved like sculptures in the same theme as the mural above.

“What madness is this!”

How much had this cost? Who did this to my room? 

Alis knew all too well how expensive these uselessly beautiful decorations were—after all, she’d developed them herself and sold them by special order to only the highest-ranking nobles. She herself used the cheapest, most plentiful cosmetics, so why would she waste such extravagance on a room she only used for a few hours at night after a day’s work? And she never even had time to look at such paintings while she slept.

If her room was like this, what about the rest of the house? The thought alone made her head throb. Whether it was because she’d just woken up from illness, or because of the state of this luxurious room, Alis felt her body, which had seemed fine just a moment ago, rapidly deteriorating.

“These little brats…!”

However, Alis, burning with anger, simply could not remain lying down. How could she let the money she had earned through such hard work be wasted on nothing but paint on a ceiling? She flailed her arms and roughly grabbed the bell cord within reach. Soon, hurried footsteps approached, and the door opened as someone entered.

“Miss, are you awake?”

A timid, almost mosquito-like voice murmured nervously. Alis’s eyebrows shot down vertically. There was no way such a timid maid could survive in her household. 

Who on earth had hired such a girl? 

Alis glared at the maid with fierce eyes.

“Eek!”

Lou involuntarily gasped and made a strange sound. The picky young lady’s gaze grew even more displeased.